#he drops me as a friend but keeps the friends who say sexist shit and leave him physically abandoned cuz they’d rather get fucked up

[snittygoop]

I think it’s funny how he pointed out my red flag, which is fair, I’ve got abandonment issues and didn’t trust that he’d get back to me ever so I reached out too soon. I’ll admit, yes I am at fault there, I got scared and reacted. But then he proceeds to show me an even bigger red flag by letting his anger get to him, getting aggressive and lashing out at me. Chose to purposefully be cruel to me

[pretty-boys-book-club]

Let your heart be light – Part 2

A Spencer Reid Holidate!AU

Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader, Spencer Reid x Female!Reader, Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Fake Dating, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, ANGST, tw: implied sex, tw: alcohol consumption, tw: food, sexist mother

Word Count: 15.4k

Prompt: Fed up with being single on holidays, Spencer and Reader agree to be each other’s platonic plus-ones all year long, only to catch real feelings along the way.

Author's Note: Please don't hate me for taking so ridiculously long to finish this piece. I wanted to do its justice and couldn't do that while I was still battling writer's block and my own anxieties. Hope you have as much fun reading this as I did when I was writing it!

· · ─────── · ♡ · ─────── · ·

FEBRUARY 15TH

No matter who provides the poison (or what that poison was), it seems to be a tradition that you're going to be hungover the day after Valentine's Day, and this time it’s no different.

Thanks to your drinking, you wake up feeling like shit. Your back hurts. Your neck hurts. Everything hurts. Just another reminder that you're not as young as you once were. A headache is doing its best to kill you and your legs have never felt so heavy before. All you want is to sleep in a little longer.

You feel really warm and safe with the bed covers clinging to your body, pulling you down with a sleepy sigh and... Bed covers aren’t able to do that. You stir in your sleep for another second, already dreading the idea of having to get up, when a hand hits the side of your face. Wait a second, a hand?

Your eyes trail up towards the man's arm, to his shoulder, then to his face… Spencer?

Keep reading or read it on AO3

“Oh, shit.” escapes your lips. What exactly did you do last night? How did you end up sleeping in Spencer's bed? You try to push yourself up but you feel dizzy. You slowly lift the covers and peek inside, looking down at yourself and breathing a sigh of relief that you're dressed. Except… Those aren't your clothes. And you're pretty sure you're wearing boxers.

Thankfully, Spencer seems to be wearing underwear as well. But you can't help but notice he's not wearing much more than that. You look away for a moment, feeling embarrassed, but then you begin to realize he looks pretty damn fine. You definitely don't notice the cute freckles that adorn his skin, or take note of how his chest rises and falls with each breath. No, you'd never look at your best friend in such an adoring way. Not you. You're only thinking of your own embarrassment.

Spencer grunts and turns, nestling his face deeper into his pillow, curls dropping gently on his skin, framing his cheek and the lashes of his closed eyes. His hand stubbornly finds your waist, pulling you closer to him. You freeze, not knowing what is the protocol in a situation like this. Do you move? Do you wake him up? Do you stay still? How can his pretty face look so damn peaceful while you're freaking the fuck out?

To a profiler, a position like this says a lot about your relationship: the fact that Spencer is comfortable enough to wrap his arm around you in his sleep means he feels very safe and secure in your arms. Of course he does, you've shared a room many times before during cases, you've been through thick and thin, you've helped each other in crime scenes, in hostage situations, you're even pretending to be each other's fake romantic partner, for goodness sake.

Maybe you should consider moving or waking him up.

“Y/N?” his soft voice says, tinged with more than a little concern. “What's going on?"

"Nothing," you lie, glancing down at your clothes. "I'm just gonna…get up."

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Spencer pulls up the sheet self-consciously, visibly becoming more worried as he realizes he's wearing nothing but his underwear. Flashbacks to him without the sheet come to your mind. He looks almost as shocked as you. "What are you doing in my bed?” Spencer is beginning to put two and two together, you can hear it in his voice and see it on the blush that appears on his cheeks. Oh lord, knowing him, he’s going to freak out over this, and then where will you be? You’ve messed up, haven’t you?

He sits up, pushing his hair from his face. It falls back immediately, revealing that his forehead is covered in sweat. Maybe you should have woken him up after all. You search his face for any sign of what to do and you realize his eyes are staring back into yours, waiting for an answer.

But your head is whirling and all this confusion and panic is making your stomach churn, and the alcohol from last night is not helping in the slightest. "I… Don't know." You say shakily. “This is bad. This is my fault. I shouldn't have had so much to drink last night. I have no idea what we did last night, but I'm pretty sure it must have been something stupid. Really stupid." This fake relationship was supposed to be a cut and dry situation, not so complicated.

Spencer blinks, obviously confused by your words.

You ignore him. "Listen, Spencer, let's agree to pretend that this never happened and never speak of it again. Besides, it's not like it matters anyway, right?” You propose, running a hand through your hair. "I should just go…" Heart beating frantically, eyes to the floor, you try to make a mad dash for the door.

"Don't." Spencer is faster than you. Damn tall people and their long legs. He slams his bedroom door before you can even reach it. “We need to have this conversation.”

"No, we don't." You argue weakly. "We should keep it as a secret. A big fat one that we'll never talk about it again."

His expression hardens. "We are not keeping anything from each other, Y/N."

"It’s already gotten so out of hand. Can we please just drop it?” You ask.

"Will you just look at me?" He urges. Your face burns, but he’s right, of course. Biting your lip, you look up at him. Less shocked now, he swallows. “You're my best friend. I don't… I don't want you to freak out and run away and not talk to me for weeks or so…”

"What do you want, then?" You snap at him. "What the hell do you expect me to do? Just be okay with it? It's not like this has ever happened to me before!"

He scoffs. "We're FBI agents, right? Let's do what we do best and try to deduce what might have happened. I'm sure that if we walk through the events of last night, we'll find something that might jog your memory. Plus, it'll give us a chance to discuss what we're feeling."

"Feelings?" You scoff. "Is that what you think this is? Feelings?" Rather than say anything, you walk over to the bed and sit down gingerly. You cross your arms in front of your chest, and Spencer raises an eyebrow at your gesture. "Wait a minute... Something that might jog my memory? You don't remember it either? Not even with your eidetic memory?"

The way Spencer flinches makes you feel awful. Why would you say such things? "I just meant-"

"You didn't mean anything bad by it, I know." Spencer cuts you off. "And when I get that drunk my memory is not that different from a regular person. Alcohol inhibits aspects of the function of regions in the hippocampus that govern short term and long term memory, so in that sense-”

“Answer me, Reid.” You demand, crossing your arms. You have the suspicion Spencer remembers more than he's letting on.

“Hm…” He swallows, looking a bit guilty. Spencer puts his hands on his eyes, as if closing them will help his brain work a bit better. You’ve never seen Spencer get stumped trying to recall something. “I don't remember all of it. Just some bits."

You furrow your brow, wondering how he could not remember everything.

"Do you remember going to the club with me?" He asks carefully.

"Yeah, of course."

"And drinking something called body shots” Despite the pounding in your temple and sloshing in your stomach, some whisper of sense makes it through.

“Yes, that's right. We went to a club downtown and drank those.” You say, remembering that much.

"How many did you have?" Spencer presses, his voice a little sharper than normal.

"Um, I don't know." You frown, looking around the room. "Anything else?"

“I remember us singing that song you like at karaoke, about the ballerina from Los Angeles, what is it called?”

"Umm..." You hesitate. "Tiny Dancer?”

"Right, Tiny Dancer." Spencer nods. "You were very particular about having to sing that for me and we danced. And then we took some pictures in the booth." He stops, looks at you, nervous about his next choice of words. "Then I… Uh. I remember exactly how you were laughing when I was falling over drunk. And then I...I remember kissing you, I guess you could technically call it making out, on a couch. But the rest of it, I don't really remember."

You're so shocked, you can barely breathe. "What?!" You gasp.

Spencer sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I guess at some point Penelope thought it would be a good idea to call us a car home. I don’t remember what I said or the exact facial expressions of the Uber driver, but I wasn't exactly paying attention to him.” Flashes of you and Spencer shamelessly making out in the backseat of a car and then in the elevator come to your mind.

"Oh my God," You groan. "This is so embarrassing."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you don't remember." Spencer says. "I'm sorry I kissed you."

"No, no! Don't apologize. That's not what I meant."

"How did I end up on your bed?"

"You took off your clothes because you wanted to feel more comfortable, so I gave you my shirt to sleep in." He tells you. "I thought you looked cold, so I put a blanket over you. And then I fell asleep."

You feel embarrassed at the thought of having been naked in front of him. Spencer keeps his face downwards, as if he’s ashamed. His hair is a mess, you note. And you’re pretty sure there’s a hickey on his neck.

"Did we…?" You tentatively ask.

"We didn't do anything else." Spencer says quickly. You are a bit unconvinced, looking at your best friend's bare chest.

"C'mon, Spence, I'm wearing your underwear."

"Yes, but…" He looks like he wants to say something, but then he stops, quickly reconsidering whatever he was about to say. "For starters, there’s no forensic evidence. Nothing’s dried on my leg. There’s no wrapper on the floor, if that’s what you’re wondering."

"Forensic evidence?" You ask, confused.

"There's none, I’m telling you. We didn’t do it. But that's a good thing, right? Well, not good because I don’t want to. N-Not that I want to! I mean, if you asked and-” He stops for a second to catch his breath. “I just mean, it's good… because I was very drunk.”

You give him a sympathetic look. "You shouldn't feel bad about this. This isn't your fault. I’m sorry for making out with you, I shouldn’t have."

He gives you a weak smile. "Don't feel sorry. It was thoroughly enjoyable.” Immediately, Spencer cringes at his choice of words and judging by the way your eyebrows raise, you are just as surprised by them. "It was. Trust me, I wouldn't lie about that."

Your cheeks flush red. “Thoroughly enjoyable?” You tease him.

“Yeah,” his reply is short, but his voice is more confident than it had been a moment prior. He quickly turns the subject away from your drunk shenanigans. “Is your head feeling alright? You were pretty hammered, after all."

You nod, still staring at Spencer's toned chest. "Yeah, my head is killing me. Remember me not to drink ever again. I swear I used to be able to hold my liquor better.”

"Well, let's get you up and moving. I'll walk you to the bathroom." Spencer says, standing up. He offers his hand and helps you stand, which makes your heart skip a beat once again. "While you're there, I’ll see if I find us some Tylenol, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You nod, and Spencer gives you a tiny smile in return.

When you leave the bathroom, you're feeling much better. Your headache has subsided a lot and your stomach seems to be doing fine. You decide to take advantage of the extra time to look for your clothes, but thankfully, once you return to the bedroom, Spencer’s waiting for you with the rest of your outfit neatly folded on his bed, that’s been nicely made as well. Only his presence can distract you from how shitty you feel right now. You wordlessly thank him and start dressing. You notice from the corner of your eye how he seems to be in trance observing you.

"What?" You ask, putting on your bra.

"Nothing." He says quickly, averting his eyes and acting like he hadn't even noticed your gaze. Spencer clears his throat, breaking out of the spell and offering you a glass of water and some ibuprofen, “This will help with your headache.”

You take it without saying a word, knowing you won't get anywhere with him if you ask any questions. he water is cold and you take a large gulp of it, realizing how thirsty you actually are.

"What time is it?" you ask.

"A little before eleven." He answers, looking at the clock on his phone. "I'm brewing some coffee and I'm pretty sure there's enough eggs in the fridge to make an omelette, if you want.”

"I should really get home and get some rest. But thanks, Spence." You say, looking at Spencer as the words came out of your mouth. You consider staying for a moment, but the possible implications of that make your mind worry once again. You know you would regret it later. So, you simply say 'thanks' and a straightforward, as-fast-as-possible “bye!” followed by a casual sprint out of his apartment.

As soon as you enter your own building, you do the logical thing and stop to assess your feelings. Thinking back to your training at the Academy, you focus on your breath. Just 5 to 10 minutes is enough time to get a quick roundup of what’s brewing inside your mind.

Closing your eyes, and putting aside the fact that you’re still very hungover, stressing too much over the situation will only make things worse, the two of you are best friends and best friends understand each other. But, you’re not just best friends, are you? You’re also in this confusing fake relationship and, fake or not, romantic relationships are complicated.

So, you tell yourself, it's all fine. You have nothing to be afraid of, besides your own doubts and fears. It doesn't take long for your thoughts to float off to a handful of brown hair curled at the nape of a neck, to plump pink lips, sharp bones and a warm hazel gaze.

Spencer. Your best friend. The person you’ve slept with. The person you kissed. The person you’re - you’re not sure if real or not - dating. Spencer.

After a few moments of deep breathing, you open your eyes. You don't think it's necessary to call him and talk to him about anything. You've done that many times before and you know it's only going to make things harder.

You stop to think of all of the signs. For the last few months you haven’t even thought about those other fish in the sea, gone are the days of swiping right on dating apps or meeting other potential partners. And you can’t seem to stop thinking about Spencer, far beyond what’s acceptable between friends. You think back to him sleeping next to you, his chest bare and his eyes closed and it makes you feel… It makes you feel something you’re not willing to admit aloud.

Are you in love?

You shake your head to clear the thought. No, you aren't. You're not. You can't be. Can you? How would you even know? If you ask any of your friends, they will respond with "you’ll know when you know," "it's hard to describe," or something equally vague, all of which, needless to say, is incredibly unhelpful. Not to mention it would expose your fake relationship to them. And that’s one of the few rules you and Spencer have set up. Even if you’ve already broken some of them, you can’t brush all of them aside so easily.

Okay, maybe you don’t know if you're in love, but you do know how you feel. You feel happy, comfortable, safe, and yes, you feel loved. But love isn't just being in love. Right?

· · ─────── · ♡ · ─────── · ·

EASTER

St. Patrick’s Day passes by in a blur, as the BAU is way too busy with another murder case across the country to participate in the annual tradition of throwing on your best green attire, painting your faces with four-leaf clovers and drinking inappropriate amounts of Guinness. Normally, you would be sad to miss out on the celebrations, but now you’re glad to avoid being in the same room as Spencer and a bottle of alcohol after what happened on Valentine's Day.

In fact, you’ve been doing this awkward dance of being anywhere but near him, getting out to the field more often than ever before, even if you end up with a few cuts and bruises. It hasn't been easy, but it has worked. At least for a couple of weeks.

You've decided to stuff those emotions, deep, deep down in a dark tunnel that no one can find. You start working more and more hours to avoid your emotions. And in the meantime, you keep telling yourself that you're just good friends. You take twice as usual to work on your case files. So much so, that Hotch, who is usually the last one to go home and, under normal circumstances, would be the only one at the office late at night, has to order you to go home and rest.

When you can’t be physically away, on the shared jet rides or long drives, you fall asleep to avoid having to talk to Spencer. You're so afraid of what you feel whenever you simply look at him, that you're scared you might end up confessing something and ruining everything.

You find something to fill out your free time. Yoga classes, lunch with college friends you haven’t seen in years, you even sign up for acupuncturist appointments. You make up excuses. Because you need to make sure that you are truly in love with him, and not in love with the idea of him.

And, guess what? The feelings are still there. They don’t go anywhere.

Of course, Spencer notices your odd behavior and you know better than to think he’d be oblivious to your behavior. But he’s not the only one.

Derek, who is arguably the most hands-on of your team, becomes a bit suspicious of your behavior, but he knows how it feels to be struggling with feelings, so he lets it slide for a while. Even Rossi can sense you're not acting as your usual self, and he corners into the kitchen asking how you and Spencer would feel about a dinner at his place. You make up some silly excuse, claiming that you're taking some foreign language lessons late at night. Emily asks you a couple of times if you’re doing okay, and you tell her that you’re completely fine. A lie. One you manage to tell with a straight face.

These are the people closest to you, the ones you call first when something important happens, whose best and worst sides you know through and through. And you’re lying to them. You know it's wrong. You know you should deal with this, but your fear of losing that friendship—your precious friendship—is greater than the fear of telling them the truth.

Still, lying takes its toll on you and you can’t feel at ease when you are hiding things from the people that are so close to you. Feelings don't just "go away" if you ignore them - they come out in other, usually destructive ways.

And when negative things come your way, Spencer is usually the only one who can actually comfort you. He is your safe space and the shoulder where you leave all your tears. But there's no way you could talk to him about this.

It's during Easter that JJ, who knows better than to ignore one of her teammates presenting signs of being under stress, manages to get you to speak up. You are, once again, in Rossi's backyard, and the kids (that is, Jack and Henry) are running around hunting for eggs when she notices you hanging alone by the table while everyone else is happily enjoying the food and the company. She stops by, sits next to you and asks you about your weird behavior.

She sees right through you. “Okay, Y/N, I think we should talk about what’s going on between you and Spencer.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, your tone regrettably biting. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Don’t do that, I’ve known you for years, Y/N." JJ scolds, cutting you off. "You two are usually inseparable but you’ve been avoiding him like the plague for the past few weeks. So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Your head hangs low and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

JJ looks at you with concern written all over her face. "Y/N?"

"I'm sorry, JJ. This is so hard to say,” You swallow. “But I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

"What do you mean?" She asks, her brow furrowed. "You... you want to break up with him?"JJ concludes before you say anything, the surprise evident in her voice. She sounds very confused. “But…Why? I thought things were going great with you two.”

"I know," you sigh. "But, I think I have very strong feelings for him."

"How exactly is that a problem?"

"I just don’t think that he feels the same way about me. And I have no idea how to tell him without messing up what we have.” You confess, doing your best to hide that your relationship is fake.

"Well, maybe he doesn’t know either, Y/N." JJ suggests. "Maybe you should try talking to him about this, see where it leads you. It might turn out that he feels the same way you do, and then you won't have to worry about anything."

"No, JJ, you don't understand. What I feel for him is exactly the thing I should be worried about."

JJ is silent. She tilts her head to the side, letting out an audible sigh. "Are you sure you need to break up? Maybe you just haven't found the right time to tell him yet."

"What?"

"Look, Y/N, if I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much. I think it’s plain to all of us that Spencer is in love with you too."

"Oh my god." You gasp. Now that JJ says it, you realize what might have been blatantly obvious for years. Love. The word you’re unable to say, hell, even think about. A word that brings mixed emotions that well up inside you. Before you can say anything, she continues. "The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. The way he lights up whenever you walk into a room. You two are made for each other."

You're still frozen, not knowing how to react.

"Spence's a good guy, but he's never been very good with expressing his feelings, that's why he's probably struggling to tell you how exactly he feels. You look like you might throw up, though.” She gives you a sympathetic rub on the back.

This whole thing is pretend. Make-believe. Fake. Maybe, this entire thing is a mistake. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t have gotten yourself in this situation in the first place. But why do you feel like no matter what happens next, you both are going to get hurt? "Why is this so hard?" you think aloud.

JJ takes a deep breath. "Well, it's always hard saying those three little words. I know I was super nervous about saying them to Will. But one day you’ll wake up and realize that you simply cannot keep it to yourself any longer, and you‘ll want him to know how you feel.” JJ advises you. "But don't doubt for a second that boy is anything other than head over heels for you.”

"Thanks, JJ.” You look at your friend and do your best to smile so she knows you're feeling a bit better after talking about what's bothering you.

JJ nods. "Good luck, okay? I hope everything works out for the best. But I mean every single thing I've said. You should talk to Spence, it's breaking my heart seeing the two of you avoid each other."

"Thank you, JJ." You hug her tight before walking away.

"I will. I just need a little time." You admit. "And maybe some chocolate or something.”

She laughs. "Okay, I'll bring you some later.” She walks towards where Henry and Will are picking up some of the cute little hand painted eggs around Rossi's lawn. That’s when you notice Spencer looking in your direction. Your eyes meet and you wave at him. You feel the sudden shift in the air. It’s as if the temperature increases and drops at the same time, sending a chill down your spine. Spencer smiles at you, unaware of what you had just talked about with JJ, and says something to Will that you can’t quite make out from the distance before he walks up to you.

"Y/N." He greets you with a warm smile.

You can hardly stand to look at him. Not because of how close you are standing to him, but because you can sense the way his body is reacting. There's a warmth radiating off of him that makes your cheeks flush. "Hey, Spencer."

"Is everything okay?"

"Why do you ask?"

“You looked upset while you were talking with JJ. And you’ve been avoiding me.” It’s not a question, but a statement. “Is this about Valentine’s Day? We’ve already agreed to pretend like nothing happened, but if it's bothering you, then maybe we should discuss what that means for us…”

You notice his choice of words, but shake your head no. ‘’It’s not about that.’’

"Then what is it? I can’t know what’s going on if you just avoid me.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “I just…" You start, not finding the right words. "Never mind, it’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. Not you.” He pleads.

“Sorry, I’m not good at this stuff.”

“At what, talking?”

“Yeah, talking. Communicating. Relationship stuff. It's just... This is... If we were in a relationship,I'd become a weird, scary version of myself, and… After a couple months, my throat starts to constrict, the walls start throbbing. Like an emotional peanut allergy.”

He looks at you with concern. "Do you think I'm hurting you?"

"No," you say quickly. "I don't think that. Why would you? I don't think that. It's something I heard in a movie." You both laugh. A moment of silence passes and you feel yourself relax.

"Tell me what's bothering you." He pleads.

Your voice is barely above a whisper. "What if I mess up this whole scenario? What if everyone finds out and you end up hating me?"

"That won't happen." He assures you. "We aren't just pretending here, Y/N."

"What?"

"I know this seems like a game. But it's not. We're best friends, and we're going to go through this together." His eyes search yours for clues. You know you should tell him how you feel, and soon, because the longer you wait the more likely it is that telling him your feelings means things between you two are over. It’s going to be awkward as hell, and he might end it as soon as you tell him, but you know it’s the right thing to do and if you don’t, it will just be hanging over your head the whole time.

But you don’t.

You make up the first excuse that comes to your mind: “I’ve told my mother we were dating, and she's visiting D.C. in a few weeks, so now she wants to have lunch with you on Mother’s Day.”

Spencer is confused by your response, but doesn’t press you further. Instead he reaches his hand out for you to take, and you do. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” He asks, incredulous. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know. I was nervous because I didn’t want to put you on the spot and force you to go to an event you didn't want to.”

"Well, the pressure is off. I'll enjoy it either way." Spencer smiles, relieved. "I'll get to spend time with my best friend, after all. And isn't he point of this holidate thing that we get to have someone for all of the holidays? Big or small."

"I guess…"

"Besides, I'd love to meet your mom."

"Really?" You turn around to face him.

"I've never met anyone's parents before." He says, looking down at the ground.

You clear your throat nervously.

"It's a date then!" you say jokingly, hoping to hide all the feelings that rush through you. You'll tell him later. It’s not like you make a decision not to tell him. You’re just… delaying it. It’s an uncomfortable conversation and it will likely mean that you end up losing the best relationship - can you call it that? - you’ve had for the longest time and your best friend at the same time. You’ll find the right time to do the right thing. Just. Not yet.

· · ─────── · ♡ · ─────── · ·

MOTHER'S DAY

Surprisingly, all the energy you had been wasting worrying about what is going on with you and your best friend has been shifted to worrying about the idea of Spencer meeting your mom. Well, it's not that surprising if you consider how your mother usually acts around new people. Of course, you want things to go well and for everyone to like one another, but you have the nagging suspicion that your mother won’t make that easy.

You're cringing at the thought of all of the questions she's going to have for him. Still, something inside you tells you that somehow Spencer will be able to handle all of them. He's your best friend, after all, he knows you better than everyone else. You know it's perfectly natural to expect that the meeting will be awkward or that someone will say something that totally embarrasses you. But still, you really wish you didn’t have to subject your best friend to this. Why did you have to come up with this? You’re almost wishing you had just broken up with him instead.

You stop thinking about that when you remember that you got your hair done yesterday and you have to look your best. Your mother always comments on your looks and you don't want her to have the opportunity to mention anything bad.

When you and Spencer finally arrive at the restaurant where you two will meet your mother, you have to sit him down and give him some essential background information about her personality. If there’s one thing Spencer has to know before getting tangled up in this mess, it’s the fact that, as opposed to Diana, who gushes over her brilliant son at every given chance (and who can blame her, really?), your mother is not as affectionate. It’s been like that ever since you can remember, so you’re used to it, but Spencer might find it strange, so you have to warn him.

"Before she arrives, I need to warn you: my mother can be a lot, don't let her charms fool you. She will, for sure, complain about what I’m wearing or about what I order to eat.” You look down at your dress, smoothing out one of the folds of the fabric. "Oh, and she hates the fact that I work for the FBI.”

“What? Why?” He sounds profoundly confused.

"Because she thinks it’s not a feminine job or whatever. Since I was born, she thinks I should get married and become a stay at home mom just like she was at my age.”

"Wow, that's… That's pretty fucked up."

"Yeah. She’s been pressuring me to bring someone home ever since I graduated from college.” You sigh. "I don't think she likes the idea of me being single, even though I'm not trying to be."

He gives you a look that can only be described as pity. “It’s fine, really. But that means she can’t doubt for a single second that we’re together. As far as she’s concerned, we are perfectly, completely in love with one another.”

“Well, seeing as we interview serial killers for a living, I’m sure I’ll manage to survive a lunch with your mother.”

“Don’t be so sure, you haven’t met her yet.”

Your phone rings and when you check the screen, you see your mother's name flashing across the display. You put the phone away without answering it.

"She wants to make sure we're here." You let out. Your palms are sweating, you attempt to dry them of your dress. "She does that a lot."

Spencer's eyes narrow as he takes in your appearance.

"You look great," He says as reassuringly as possible. "And don't worry. We're a team. I’ll be by your side the whole time.” Spencer promises gently. “And, if you ever want to leave just tell me and we’ll go.”

"Thanks." You smile at him, feeling reassured. “Just be your most charming, respectful self.”

"I'll do my best."

Even though you feel more confident now, you still get nervous when the hostess leads your mother towards your table. Her eyes quickly glance around the room, surely inspecting if this restaurant is a respectable establishment, another subtle reminder that she doesn't trust your judgment whatsoever. You stand up to greet her, not because you want to, but because you know she'll complain if you don't.

"Mom." You acknowledge her.

Her eyes are narrowed, inspecting your from head to toe. You've known this woman for your whole life and she still manages to intimidate you sometimes. Even though she's almost sixty, you have to admit that she has an elegant presence. It's hard not to notice her as soon as she enters the room.

“Well, look at you, honey.” Your mother’s voice rings sharply. “And my future son-in-law. You look quite dashing together.”

You take a moment to register just exactly what your mother says. "S-son in law?"

"Of course. Don't you know what a son in law is?”

You open your mouth to retort, but you freeze when you hear Spencer clearing his throat. She finally turns to face him. “Dr. Spencer Reid. It’s so nice to finally meet you. It’s a shame my daughter didn’t introduce us sooner.” Your mother adds, giving you her signature look of disapproval.

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Spencer bows.

"And I'm sorry for the delay. I wanted to make sure you got here on time. I’ve heard so much about you.” She smiles politely, but she doesn't miss the way Spencer's eyes linger on her.

“Oh,” he says, just a touch awkwardly. “Only good things, I hope." He shots you a questioning glance, but you just smile innocently at him. Your mother notices how he doesn’t offer a hand up to her.

“Spencer doesn’t like to do handshakes.” You explain, but your mother looks offended. She takes a moment to recollect herself, before continuing.

“Oh, I suppose that’s okay, long as you don’t call me ma��am. It makes me feel old. Now. Let's order some food. I'm starving.” She fixes her gaze on the menu.

“What do you want to eat?” You ask, trying to act as normal as possible.

“I don't care, dear. I'm going to go ahead and pick for myself." Of course, she always puts her needs above anyone else's. When the waiter arrives, she orders the same thing Spencer ordered. You follow suit.

Soon enough, lunch is served, the food is amazing and you feel yourself relax a bit as your mom surprisingly manages to have a pleasant meal with you and Spencer. You attribute that to the fact that she’s too busy talking about the food. Spencer puts his hand on your tight under the table and you feel your body relax. It's when the meal is over and you're sipping some tea that the questioning begins.

After the waiter leaves, your mother turns her attention back to you. "So, tell me, Spencer, you must be quite exceptional for my daughter to be so smitten with you. I've never seen her talk about anyone the way she talks about you. I was almost giving up on her finding someone.”

"Thank you." Spencer nods appreciatively.

“It’s Mother’s Day, remind me again why we’re talking about my personal life?” You protest.

"Darling, I'm your mother. I have a right to know what my child is doing with her life.”

“You have two other children.” You remind her.

“But you’re the one I worry about.” She says, before facing Spencer directly. She stirs her tea before taking a sip. “So, Dr. Reid, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

You can't help but feel embarrassed by the question, even though it's one you've been dying to ask as well. “What?” Spencer stammers.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” your mother repeats. “Do you want to marry her? Hm? Date her? Or are you just 'fuck buddies', like the kids say?”

You begin to sputter and choke as you set down your cup. “Mom” you manage to croak.

“I will accept all three options.” She replies, as if she's reading off a script.

"No, Mom!" You cry out. "Spencer and I aren't…we haven't-" The words die in your mouth when you see Spencer's jaw clench.

Your mom ignores you. “You’re a handsome man. You’ll make a good husband for my daughter.” She tells Spencer.

“We’re not engaged.” You tell her, voice flat.

Your mother chuckles. “Not now, but you will be. Give it time. In a year, there could be a baby on the way. Now, I’ll ask again, Spencer, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

You turn to face him. “You don’t need to answer that.”

Spencer frowns. "I think I do."

"Please, I'm begging you. Don't." You plead.

Spencer looks away from you, then back at your mother. “Me and your daughter,” Spencer starts nervously. “To be honest, I don’t really know what I’d do without her. She’s such a great person. She’s been through a lot and seen the worst of humanity and she’s still such a kind person. To everyone, to me, to our coworkers, to the families of every single murder victim. You should be proud of her. I know I am.” After a pause, he continues. “She’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’d be happy to stay with her as long as she’ll have me.” He concludes thoughtfully, looking over at you.

“That's very nice to hear.” Your mother says, nodding.

"And," Spencer adds, "if she wants to get married or whatever. I'd love to do that." Does this boy know what he does to you? That every single smile he gives you makes him burrow himself deeper into your heart? Does he know that you can no longer picture a future without him in it? Most of all, does he actually feel the same? Or is he that good of an actor that he has managed to fool you too? You feel sick to your stomach.

Your mother beams up at him, smiling more brightly now. "I will not lie, I was rather wary at the thought of you at first. But... I trust my daughter’s judgment. You found yourself a good one. Maybe keep him around.”

“Maybe.” You say, your guts twisting at the thought of confessing how much you want to keep him around for real.

“Maybe.” he echoes.

After the meal, you and Spencer give your mom a ride to the airport. Surprisingly, she doesn't make any comment about your job at the FBI this time. You also manage to stay on your best behavior, maybe because whenever your mother opened up her mouth, Spencer squeezed your leg. It's so weird how you two can communicate with just a touch.

When your mother leaves, you two drive to your apartment, in silence. When you pull the door open, you say. "Seems like the evening wasn't so bad, after all, huh?” You say, as you close the door to your car. He gets out too, probably choosing to walk to his place. You notice he seems deep in thought. “Hey, Spence, come on. I was just teasing.” Mostly. When his serious expression doesn't fade, you continue. “Hey. Talk to me. What are you thinking?”

He sighs, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m- I’m all in, a hundred percent, you know I am. I just… I want to make sure you’re not…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You assure him.

"I know that. But... are you pretending to be dating me because you're scared?”

“What?!” You bark. “No! I just…" Damn those profiling skills.

"You're scared."

You nod.

"You?" He surprises you with a laugh. “Since when have you been afraid of anything?”

“Scared, not afraid.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows in clear disbelief, but his expressions softens. "But… Why?”

"Because I'm clearly terrible at dating!”

"No, you're not."

"Spence, don't. After so many attempts at failed relationships, it gets tiring. I mean, it’s not like I care, after so many bad dates, vapor trails, and men who are just emotionally available enough to keep me around but won’t let anything progress, I’ve learned to accept it. It just hurts to know that love is not in the cards for me. If it wasn't for our fake relationship I would be alone."

"I wouldn't have guessed that." Spencer muses, reaching out and grabbing your hand. You look down at your palm, seeing the outline of his fingers pressed against yours. "I don't think you're incapable of finding someone to love."

"But I'm incapable of letting myself love them."

“Of course you aren't. You're strong, independent, and beautiful. People like you are hard to find." He says.

"Thanks, I guess?" You laugh in self-deprecation.

"You're welcome. But I mean it, I would hate to feel like you've agreed to be in this fake relationship with me because you're scared of what the real world could offer you."

"Well, I am kinda scared. But I'm happy to be your fake girlfriend."

His laughter is music to your ears. "Good. I'm happy to be your fake boyfriend too. But, now, fake lover, I should probably go home and call my mom. Still haven't wished her a happy mother's day. She might kill me if I forget again."

“I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Sure." He says, smiling one last time before leaving.

· · ─────── · ♡ · ─────── · ·

FOURTH OF JULY

Every year you look forward to the annual Fourth of July FBI barbecue. The food, the fireworks, the water fights, and most importantly, the FBI family gathering. It's tradition. It's so nice to get a chance to meet all the wives and husbands from your co-workers, and even their kids. Actually, you usually end up partying more with the kids than the adults anyway. It's where all the fun happens. It feels so good to see all your co-workers have a relaxing afternoon for once. That's what makes the summer so great.

Once again, Rossi offers his house as the venue, he's probably one of the few agents rich enough to have a yard large enough to hold the celebrations. You are more than happy to take the opportunity to kick back and relax. All you really needed was a cold beer and some grilled meat.

This time, you and Spencer agree to meet up at the party. By the time you arrive, he's already there, doing some magic tricks to entertain a bunch of the kids. They look hypnotized. Spencer's really good, you bet he could have a side gig as a magician if he wanted to. You were about to head over to him when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Agent Y/L/N!" You turn around to find Special Agent Thomas standing behind you, smiling widely and waving. "It's so nice to see you again! How's the BAU been treating you?" He used to be your boss years ago, when you first started working at the FBI. Now, he's married to another agent, and they have a baby girl.

"The BAU has been great. A lot of job, but I'm glad to be working with such amazing people." You say, giving him a hug.

"I'm glad to hear that. Rossi also mentioned that you and Dr. Reid are together now."

You freeze for a second before breaking out into a huge grin. "Yeah, we are!"

"Congratulations! I hope you enjoy being an FBI couple as much as I do." He jokes.

"Oh, I'm sure we will." You laugh.

"So, how does it feel, finally having someone you can share these long hours with?" He asks.

"We've only had a few months so far, but it's been great."

"Good to hear. Now, excuse me, I think my wife is looking for me." Thomas says with a smile as he leaves you. You decide that a burger sounds pretty damn good. You need to fuel up for whatever shenanigans the kids will be getting into later.

As you wait for your food, you notice Spencer talking to one of the other FBI agents. He looks happy and relaxed, something you haven't seen very often. You decide to join him.

"Hey, Spence," You say as you sit next to him on the patio bench.

He turns towards you, smiling slightly. "Hey. You seem awfully chipper today."

"I am, actually. It's nice to see everyone so relaxed. So many of us are married now, or have kids, and it's just so great to see them all." You reply.

Spencer nods. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I also saw you practically charm those kids back there. Do you ever get tired of using your magic tricks to entertain people?" You ask.

"No, never. I think it's really important to keep practicing new things, especially after you've built yourself a reputation. Also, it's so much fun to watch the reactions of people." He laughs.

"What kind of trick did you use to put them under?" You ask curiously.

"Oh, it was just a simple disappearing card trick. It's easy enough for anyone to pick up." He replies.

"I guess I don't understand why you'd want to learn tricks like that when you're an actual genius. It seems redundant." You joke. He laughs.

Jack, Hotch's son, approaches you with a water gun on his hand. "Want to play?" He asks. You nod eagerly.

"Sure, kiddo. We can shoot each other!" You say cheerfully.

"Awesome!" Jack exclaims, taking aim at your head. You duck to avoid the stream of water.

"That was close." You chuckle. Then, suddenly, Henry also appears, giggling. You shoot him in the face too.

"Ow!" He cries, rubbing his cheek.

You laugh. "Sorry." You apologize.

"Don't worry about it, it was kinda funny actually." He says. That's when you notice their plan is to team up against you. You look over to Spencer, but he seems distracted by a conversation happening at the grill. Jack and Henry approach you from either side, laughing.

"Hey, boys, now, no need to let me soaked, okay? We can play this game together instead." You warn them. You notice Spencer watching you from afar. He smiles at you, before quickly returning his attention to the grill. You lose attention for a second until both of the kids start to spray you with water.

"Ahh!" You scream, jumping away from them.

"Ha ha, gotcha!" Jack laughs. You play along, running from them. The two boys chase you, trying to get you wet. You hide behind a picnic table, hoping they'll give up soon. Unfortunately, they find you easily enough. You continue running around the yard, a few other kids joining them in your pursuit. You suppose it must look silly to other adults to see a grown up woman playing with them, but the kids mean no harm. They're just having fun.

Henry and Jack grab onto your arms, pulling you down to the grass. You fall on top of them, laughing.

"Alright, that's enough!" You holler. "Now, who wants to get into the pool?" You suggest. Both boys nod eagerly. You help them out of the grass, and into the pool. It's warm and refreshing, and you wish you could stay here forever. You kick off your shoes and wade into the water. Soon enough, some of the other adults and more kids are also in the water. You go underwater and come back up with a big splash. The kids all shriek.

The rest of the day passes too fast, and you're exhausted by the time everyone starts to set up the fireworks. Spencer and some of the other men go around the house preparing the fireworks. Some of them clap whenever something explodes. Penelope and Emily find you.

"What is it about men and explosives?" asks Penelope.

"I guess they just love blowing shit up." You laugh.

Emily rolls her eyes. "Are you sure that's what it is?" She teases. You giggle.

"What do you mean?"

"Cmon, it's like jacking off." Emily says.

"What?"

"If they’re not fucking, they’re dreaming about fucking, or blowing stuff up." She explains.

You blush. "So, they’re all down there right now thinking about…?" Penelope asks, almost giggling.

"Let's just say I don't think we should be surprised if they start shooting off fireworks at any minute." Emily says. The three of you laugh.

Suddenly, you hear a loud explosion. "What the hell was that?!" You gasp.

"Shit, Spencer must have missed one." Emily sighs. "It's fine though. He'll figure it out."

"Yeah, good thing he's got a magic wand." Penelope jokes.

"Pen-" You start to reprimand her, but soon enough someone rushes in your direction.

"Hey, do any of you know if we have a first aid kit by chance? Maybe Band-Aids." He asks.

You look at him. "Um... Why?" You ask

"It's Spencer, he – he just blew off his finger, a little bit." He says, nervously.

"Is he okay?" You ask, looking to the others.

"Well, he's going to be fine. It's not bad." Emily says, trying to reassure you. You rush in Spencer's direction. Hotch has already stepped into dad mode and is trying to calm Spencer. The rest of the adults stand nearby, watching with curious expressions. "Rossi, go get some ice and a baggie. JJ, find something to make a tourniquet. Do we have the finger?"

Spencer looks up, not noticing you. You see there's a lot of blood near his hand. Hotch turns to you: "He’s in shock. Get him to the hospital."

"What?! No! It's fine!" Spencer protests.

Hotch holds Spencer's head in his hands. "Spencer, you're going to the hospital whether you want to or not. Y/N, have you got your car?"

You look around. "No, I'm sorry."

"Then get him to my car," Hotch orders, handing you the keys. "We're going to take him to the hospital."

Spencer nods, and you carry him to Hotch's car. You get him situated in the front seat, and get in the driver's seat. Hotch tells you the directions to the nearest hospital and you drive as fast as it's legally possible.

"Does it hurt really bad?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "It just stings a bit."

"Really?"

"No, not really! My finger is in a fucking Ziploc bag!"

You burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry." You say, calming down.

"I'm fine!" Spencer reassures you. "Just keep driving!"

When you arrive at the emergency room, you park and walk over to the entrance. Spencer doesn't even complain when you pull him into the emergency room. You wait for a few minutes before an orderly comes over. He takes Spencer's information. "The doctor will be with you shortly. He’s reattaching a toe."

"What?"

"Oh, no. That's a joke, it's a prosthetic." The orderly explains.

"Oh. Thank God." You exhale. 

A doctor soon approaches you. "So... Sparkler got away from you, did it?

"Uh, It was an M-80, actually."

"That’s gonna hurt. Skin’s a little damaged but it looks like the bone didn’t shatter." He says.

"What does that mean?" You ask.

The doctor looks at you. "Well, I can't be sure until the stitches are removed, but it should heal without much issue. We’ll get you prepped for surgery, okay?"

"Okay." Spencer nods. You spend the next hour waiting while Spencer gets checked out. You've never felt so worried before. It hits you how badly it would hurt if something more serious had happened. You can't picture a world without Spencer Reid in it.

Soon enough, the doctor returns. "Everything went smoothly. We have a couple of weeks of recovery ahead of us, but he'll be fine."

You exhale. "Can I see him?"

"Of course," the doctor says, leading you back to the room. Spencer's bandaged hand is propped up on a pillow. He looks exhausted. "How are you feeling?" you ask.

"They said I'll be alright."

"Good." You say. "You scared me half to death!"

He smiles weakly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Now, I think I should get you home before I return Hotch's car. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great." Spencer agrees. You help him out of the bed, and then he awkwardly stands. You help him get into the car, and he sits down in the passenger seat. The doctor gave you some painkillers, so Spencer takes one. You buckle him in and drive him home.

He seems a little drowsy. When you pull up to Spencer's house, Spencer gets out of the car and walks towards his door. You help him with it.

"Thanks." He says. Then he lets himself inside and collapses on the couch.

"So, I got your prescriptions right here."

"Thank you."

"And Penelope will be delivering your soup."

"Awesome." Spencer says, closing his eyes. You sit down beside him, looking at him. "And... I called your mom."

"Really? What–What did she say?"

"She didn’t answer. I just left a message. Told her you had a little accident and she should probably give you a call."

Spencer sighs. "Yeah, I guess she will."

You rest your head on his shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I think I’m good. Look, I– I think I’m fine. I’m really tired."

You nod. "Okay." You kiss his cheek. "Get some sleep. Happy Fourth of July."

"Happy Fourth of July." Spencer murmurs.

You leave Spencer's house, feeling a little better about everything. You go home, take a shower, and crawl into bed. Once you drift off to sleep, you dream about Spencer.

· · ─────── · ♡ · ─────── · ·

HALLOWEEN 

Between July and October, you feel like there's been some serious shift. Things between you and Spencer aren't...platonic anymore. You’re in trouble. You can feel it.

It starts with you and Spencer sitting in the breakroom together. You're eating lunch and chatting. It's casual. It feels normal. So then why do you start thinking about kissing him? Why do you start feeling butterflies in your stomach?

Then, during a particularly tough case, Spencer leans forward and kisses you. You're completely surprised by the suddenness of it all, and you instinctively turn into him. His lips are soft against yours, warm, and you melt.

After that, you begin to notice other things. Like the way he keeps looking at you. Or the way he touches your face. Those are both subtle, but they're there. While Spencer does not seem to care whether or not something changed between you, you do your best to go about your life, pretending nothing is going on.

But then, Halloween rolls around, and Spencer asks you to a party. You agree, simply because you know it's his favorite holiday. Plus, it's not like you could say no.

"Any ideas for a Halloween costume?" you ask him.

"Already on it." Spencer grins. "Should be a lot of fun. Don't worry, you'll like what I have planned."

"Okay," you say, knowing he always has a plan. You want to focus on more important things during the month of October. (Like what Halloween candy you are buying and which Halloween movie you are watching, to name a few.) A few of your colleagues are also going to this party.

When the night arrives, you greet Spencer at his apartment, as he has both of your costumes ready for you to get changed. He hands you a bag with yours, and you excuse yourself to go change. It's a pirate costume, but it is a bit more risqué than you would have imagined.

As soon as you put it on, you feel very self-conscious. You don't usually wear anything too revealing. But you have to admit, it does make your boobs look amazing. And since you're wearing a corset, that means your butt also looks incredible.

Once you're dressed, you come out into the living room. Spencer's also wearing a pirate costume, albeit with more clothing than you have on, and his signature Converse. He looks you over.

"You look amazing," Spencer says. "I told you I'd make sure you looked good."

"Uh, thanks." You blush. "It's a bit more revealing than I would normally go for, but... I'm glad you picked it."

"Me too." Spencer grins. You spot him looking at your chest, and even though you'd normally feel a bit self-conscious, you can't help but notice how nice Spencer's eyes look on you.

"Okay, okay, enough looking at my boobs." You tease.

Spencer laughs. "Oh, I wasn't."

"If you say so." You roll your eyes. "Why the pirate idea, Spence?"

Spencer smirks. "That was the first thing I thought up. Figured it might get a laugh or two."

"Well, you were right."

You two go to the party, and while you and Spencer do find it funny, it doesn't garner much attention from others. "Alright, I think almost everyone is already here." He tells you. "I think I'm going to go find Derek and Emily."

"Go ahead, I'm going to get some candy." you tell him.

"Mmm..." Spencer hums. "I'll catch you later."

You watch him walk away. You decide to go look for the candy bowl, and once you find it, you see that it is full of Hershey bars. Your favorite.

"Hey!" You call out. "There's no Reese's Peanut Butter Cups."

A woman nearby laughs. "What are you talking about?" she asks. You really it's JJ.

"JJ! I didn't know you were coming!" You yell.

"Well, I wasn't, but Garcia made a very convincing argument." She replies.

"What did you have to do?" You ask.

"Nothing too bad. Just convinced me to come." JJ laughs.

"Really?" You grin.

JJ shrugs.

"Where's Will?"

"Oh, he stayed at home with Henry. But, still, I am so excited. This is my first adult party since becoming a mom." JJ says.

"Aw, that's sweet," you reply.

JJ gives you a wink. "Maybe I should bring Henry next year."

You giggle. "He'd love it."

"I don't know, he might get scared. I saw some truly frightening costumes" She suddenly steps back to give you a once over. "Seems like some people have decided to go from dressing up like a princess to a sexy...? Pirate, is it?"

"That's right." You smile.

"You look good in that costume, by the way." She comments.

"Thanks," you blush. "Spencer picked it for me. I figured it would be a little different than the usual witch or vampire."

"Yeah, well, I have to admit, I'm not sure I would have gone for something like that. But you look great!"

"Hey, the angel wings match you. And it suits you." You say.

"Thank you." JJ smiles.

You both go through the candy bowl. "Y/N, you’re gonna be sick if you keep eating that much chocolate." JJ's mother instincts come in.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna eat all of it." You say.

"True." JJ agrees.

"Come on, let's get some drinks. I'm parched."

JJ follows you to the bar, the party is pretty big, and the whole club is filled with Halloween decorations. Once you reach the bar, you spot Emily and Derek standing there, talking. They don't notice you yet, though.

JJ hands the bartender her glass of water. "Two waters please."

As soon as your drinks arrive, she hands you a glass. "Water?" you ask.

"I'm drinking this one." She replies. "But you should take this one. Oh, and take one of these." She hands you a pill. "It is a preemptive antacid. Just pretend it’s candy."

"Thanks." You pop the pill into your mouth and down the glass of water. "Now, I would like to try one of the themed cocktails. What can you recommend?"

"I think I'll go with a Blood Orange Margarita." The bartender suggests.

"That sounds good." You agree. Emily and Derek join you.

"Damn, girl, you look fire. Reid sure is a lucky boy." Derek tells you.

"Oh, stop it." You laugh.

Emily nods in agreement. "You might make a few heads turn tonight, that's for sure. Although I don't think they will be turning because of how cute you look." She laughs.

"Well, this is what I get for leaving Spencer in charge of costumes. By the way, he was looking for you, I think."

"Oh, yeah, he said he wanted to go find JJ, but I told him we were going to get our drinks." Emily laughs. "Seems like we beat him to it."

"So, what are you supposed to be?" You ask them.

Derek is the first to reply: "Morpheus, from The Matrix, of course."

"It's a bit obvious, isn't it?" Emily laughs.

"What? It's not like I thought it was hard to figure out." Derek scoffs.

"I'm Morticia Addams." Emily tells you. "But a more modern version." Her makeup is amazing and a black dress hugs her body perfectly. It fits perfectly with her personality. "And, of course, JJ is dressed as an angel." She remarks.

JJ giggles. "Hey, I'm a mom, it's not that easy to come up with last minute costumes..." She trails off.

Spencer finally finds you. "Ahoy, mateys!" He shouts.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," you reply.

"Oh, a couples costume?" JJ asks you, noticing you and Spencer are matching.

"Yeah, I've never done something like that. But then again, when have I ever had a chance to attend a party like this?"

JJ laughs. "True." Penelope finally arrives, dressed as Sailor Moon. You wave hello to her.

"Hey, how's my favorite couple doing?" She hugs you and Spencer with both of her arms. "These outfits are awesome."

"Thank you!" You both exclaim.

Penelope takes a seat at the table. "I'm getting so many compliments on my costume. And I even got some guys number." She shows you a napkin with some number on it.

"Oh, is that where you'd run off to, baby girl?" Derek questions.

"Yes, it is, but it is none of your business. So drinks?"

"Immediately." You all say. Penelope comes back with a tray of drinks.

"Trick or treat, party people!" Penelope yells. Everyone cheers and claps, you all take a drink. The night goes on, chatting with new people, dancing with old ones. You dance with Spencer, JJ, Emily, and Derek. You can see how happy everyone looks. Suddenly, your stomach rumbles. "Excuse me," you mumble.

You grab Spencer hand, pulling him to the side of the dance floor. "I don’t feel well." You say.

"Let's get you some water." Spencer says.

"No, no, I really don’t feel well. I’ve had about 50 mini-size candy bars, and a bucket of candy corn." You tell him. "I think I need to vomit." JJ arrives by your side.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asks you.

"She's not feeling very well." Spencer tells her, as he starts to rub your back.

"Oh, sweetie, here have another antacid." JJ hands you a pill.

"You're such a good friend, JJ. But it's so weird, I think it's like the fourth of these I take and they don't seem to help with heartburn." You notice how JJ's face gets pale all of a sudden. "What is it?" You ask.

"Shit. Y/N, this is not an antacid. This is a laxative, I've been taking them since I had Henry, I must have accidentally swapped them." JJ tells you as you start to panic.

"Oh, god. This is so embarrassing." You say, as you feel your intestines clench.

"Y/N, hold on, I'll get you home in no time." Spencer takes you by the arms and walks you away from the crowd. He drives fast, speeding down the road. You gasp in pain, clutching onto the side of the car.

"My tummy hurts." You tell Spencer.

"Sorry, y/n." Spencer apologizes. When you arrive at your building, you rush towards the elevator, desperate to reach a bathroom. Your stomach feels like it's trying to turn itself inside out. It makes a really loud noise. Oh, no.

"Spence, I need you to help me undress." You demand.

"What?" Spencer asks.

"I... I need you to help me undress." You repeat, panting. "Just don’t question! Untie my corset."

"Y/N, what-" Spencer asks, confused. He tries to untie your corset, but his hands shake, and he can't do it.

"The laces! Hurry!" You yell.

"I’m trying, okay? I’m trying! You’re locked up like Houdini in this!" Spencer complains.

"Oh, please, don’t let this happen to me. Fuck! Don’t let me be the girl who shits her pants." you plead to whatever higher power there is. You push yourself forward, pushing your ass against Spencer's chest.

"I'm sorry, almost there! I’m almost there." Spencer moans, as he unties the last of your laces. He carefully pulls it off you, as your stomach spasms uncontrollably. The elevator dings, and you rush to your apartment's door, no time for anything else. You run to the bathroom before it's too late. You sit on the toilet, and your bowels release all its contents.

"Goodbye, cruel world." You mumble.

Through the door, you hear Spencer yelling. "Did you make it?"

"Yeah..." You answer, weakly.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Go away! Just leave me alone until I stop shitting myself." You order, as you wipe yourself clean. You rinse your mouth out, and you crawl into bed.

Spencer sits by the edge of the bed. "Here's some tea. Peppermint, to be precise, did you know that peppermint actually helps with stomach pains?" Spencer hands you a cup of warm, minty liquid.

"Thanks." You take a sip. It does help your stomach.

"Don’t worry, okay? I’m not gonna tell anyone. I promise. And if you ever need anything, I mean, I'm here for you." Spencer says, as you sip more of your tea.

"Thank you. I just hate getting sick." You reply.

"So, I think I'll head home..." Spencer announces.

"You could stay with me. I'm not going anywhere." You tell him. You try to make it obvious how much you'd like someone to comfort you at the moment.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to burden you." Spencer insists.

"You're not being a burden. C'mon, Reid, there's space for both of us on this bed. Besides, I'm not gonna eat or drink anything tonight. I don't want to risk it. So, why don't we just sleep together, until I feel better." You suggest. "I mean, if you want. Don’t feel obligated to stay." You add.

"Obligated?"

"Yeah, Halloween’s over, right? So your obligations as a holidate are officially over until Thanksgiving." you explain.

"Right. I think I'll stay just to make sure you're okay." He crawls under the covers, maintaining some distance from you. Having him so close makes it hard to relax. You try to fall asleep, but Spencer lying by your side makes your stomach flutter. After a while, you turn to him, only to find already looking at you.

"Sorry." Spencer says, a little embarrassed.

"It's okay. I understand. I couldn't get any sleep anyway." You reassure him.

"Is it still hurting?"

"Not really."

"Good, that's good." He says. You notice how he's very close to you. So close you can almost feel his breath on your skin. You wonder if he's thinking about kissing you. He must be. His eyes never stray away from yours. You can see the desire in them. You move closer to him.

"You don't have to do this, Y/N." Spencer warns, his voice barely audible. "There's no one around."

"But I want to." You whisper back.

Spencer takes a deep breath as he moves towards you, hesitantly. His hands grab your waist, pulling you onto his chest. He doesn't let go of you as he gently kisses you. You moan softly, as you lean into him. You pull him closer, and his lips meet yours again. It's like a dam breaks. You kiss him harder, and he responds by kissing you even more passionately. You pull him tighter against you, and you grind your hips into his groin. He groans into your mouth, as you kiss him hungrily.

Soon enough, the little clothing you had on starts to slip off. Your shirt leaves your body, and Spencer's hands start playing with your breasts. Things heat up, the room is filled with nothing but your heavy breathing, mixed with Spencer's grunts as your bodies move together. You're surprised to find out how well you fit together. It feels like you've been made for each other. It's so much better than you expected. You end up doing it multiple times, until you both are too spent to continue.

The next morning, it takes you a moment to realize what you two have done. It's not the physical act that bothers you, no, that was mind-blowing amazing, but rather what that means for your relationship.

After a while, you get up, heading towards the kitchen. Spencer is already dressed, making some coffee.

"Good morning", you tell him.

"Morning." He answers coldly.

You sit down at the table, sipping from your mug. You find his change in behavior odd. He seems distant.

"Are you okay?" You ask, trying to sound casual.

"Listen, Y/N, I've been thinking... I think we should stop." Spencer says, bluntly.

"Stop what?" You ask, confused. "Do you want to stop being friends?”

“No, no, definitely not that.” He clarifies as he finally turns to look at you. ‘’This whole pretend thing,’’ he continues, voice wavering slightly, ‘’I don’t want to do it anymore, it’s not working.’’

Something flickers across Spencer’s face for a fleeting moment – confusion, maybe even hurt – but he tries to hide it in a blank stare. You feel a pang in your chest.

“Why?” is all you ask. “Is it because we had sex?”

Spencer sighs. “No.” He takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Yes. It’s just… I can’t pretend anymore.” Spencer awkwardly paces around your kitchen. “See, the thing is, there is a reason why I've been alone all this time. I'm comfortable that way. I agreed to this fake relationship because I thought it would be fun and uncomplicated, and now it’s neither. I know this might seem selfish, but can't want to be your fake boyfriend, or whatever this is. This isn't me. I can't fake my feelings."

"What? Where's this coming from?"

"I've been thinking about this for a long time. I just didn't want to say anything because I wanted you to enjoy yourself." Spencer explains, stumbling over his words. "But I can't keep doing this. Not when I'm starting to feel something for you."

You're in shock. What he said makes no sense.

"What does that mean?" You panic.

"I don't know." He admits. "I want you to be happy, you deserve to be with someone who loves you with every beat of their heart. Someone who will always be there for you, and who will love every part of you, especially your flaws. But above all, you deserve to be with someone you love back. You deserved to be completely bewitched by someone, you deserve butterflies in your stomach…I could go on and on. I know you’re definitely going to meet someone else who you’re utterly crazy about. And they’re going to be a very lucky man. But, please, Y/N, don’t you stay with me just because you’re scared about putting yourself out there. You shouldn’t have to settle for a fake relationship.”

“Is that right? Because right now this doesn't feel fake to me.” You say, trying to get him to realize that’s not how things should go. Tears stream down your face.

Spencer looks at you sadly. He reaches out, taking one of your hands in his. "Stop acting like we are actually in love."

"What..? I am not acting." You stammer.

He shakes his head. "That's what I'm saying. You're pretending. You know you are. Please, don't do it." He begs.

Your eyes widen. You're having a hard time believing what he's telling you.

"We both know this is not real. I've been trying to ignore my feelings, but I can't anymore. I'm sorry, but I think we should stop this."

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. You said 'we?' What about me? Am I not allowed to speak?"

"We agreed on the rules. No one else can know. No falling in love with each other. I've broken that rule. Actually, I've been waiting forever to tell you how I feel about you."

"How long?"

"Like years."

Your eyes widen as you look into his. "Years? Like since I first met you?"

"Yeah." He admits. You don't know what to say.

"So, you've had feelings for me this entire time?" You ask.

"Since the day we met. I've never told you though, because I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

"So why did you agree to the rules?" You wonder.

"Because I wanted to be with you." Spencer says. "I knew if I said anything, it would change everything. But now it's too late. I'm afraid that's going to happen anyway. I can't control my feelings anymore. So, I figured this was the best decision, at least for now."

You feel a knot in your stomach. This can't be happening. It's too messy. "I... We can't..."

"I know." He cuts you off, looking away. "It hurts me too. But I have to be honest with myself. I can't keep on deceiving myself, and the only way to do that is to let you go." You’ve never heard him sound so... sad. "Unless you feel the same."

Your head feels fuzzy as if it’s working in slow motion. You watch your best friend’s heart shatter on his face when you stay quiet. You watch those brown eyes search yours, as though looking for an answer.

Your mind is completely blank. There’s a horrible pause where you just stand there, too stunned, shocked and heartbroken to say anything.

"I-I..." You try to hold back your tears. What does all of that mean? Have you been so oblivious to his feelings this whole time?

“Look, I’ll… I’ll stop bothering you. See you on Monday.”

You don’t react to Spencer leaving until it’s too late for you to run after him - still, you try to catch up, but as expected, he’s already driven off. You curse under your breath and run your hands through your hair. You wish you’d known, this is where things would end.

You wish you’d known so you’d never done anything to begin with.

At least now it’s done. You tell yourself it's better this way. That you’ll somehow find a way to stay friends after this.

Right?

· · ─────── · ♡ · ─────── · ·

THANKSGIVING 

It's been nearly a month since you two last spoke. Of course, you're still working together but the awkwardness is definitely there. At least, that's how it seems. You don't know what to think, or what to do. All of your team members notice it, but they don't comment on it. They don't need to. You know exactly what everyone is thinking and feeling behind closed doors. They probably figured out that you two broke up and, well, they're not wrong.

It takes you this whole time to understand what you're feeling. For a fake relationship, the heartbreak feels very realistic. As much as you'd like to move on, it's hard to do. The longer you're apart from him, the more you miss him. You wish you could turn back time, but you can't.

The first week after Halloween, you were in denial. You refused to believe that Spencer had feelings for you. You couldn't have possibly imagined that things could ever turn out like this. Now that you have, suddenly, all the small gestures over the years seemed like his way of telling you he loves you.

Then, two weeks ago you finally accepted it. Now you realize you should have seen it coming. After all, he'd actually given you hints before. You just missed them. You had no idea how deep his feelings went. But, thinking about it, you start to come to terms that maybe the reason why you were single for so long is because, subconsciously, you never really looked for someone. Because you had the best thing right in front of you.

Now, here you are, unable to function properly without him around. It's pathetic, even embarrassing. You've been avoiding Spencer since then, feeling stupid for not having said anything when he confessed his feelings to you back at your house.

That leads us to today. Thanksgiving. You've spent the past two days pretending to be okay. You weren't able to deal with Spencer's presence yet. You needed some space. But, you have to see him today, whether you like it or not. You two have this tradition of working together at a local soup kitchen during the holiday, serving food to the less fortunate.

Everyone that has ever cooked for Thanksgiving Day knows it takes time to prepare. So the night before you meet some other volunteers to get a head start. You arrive at four in the morning and help me heat everything up and loads plates of food onto trays. It's good to say busy, because it helps you avoid talking to Spencer.

When you finally finish putting the last plate of food into a basket, you decide to take a break. The place is empty except for you and a few others who've come early to set everything up. Volunteers also helped gather donated coats, warm pants and blankets. A lot of people in need will be coming here in the next couple hours. You sit down for a short time and end up falling asleep.

When you wake up, the whole place is buzzing. You stand up, feeling groggy, and walk toward the front door. You look out and see a line forming outside. People are starting to show up, eager to eat a hot meal. You glance at the clock: 8:30am. You see Spencer. He's standing outside, talking to one of the other volunteers. He doesn't seem to notice you walk up to him.

You smile awkwardly as you approach him. "Hey."

Spencer looks surprised. "Oh, hey. I didn't expect you to come."

"I couldn't miss on our yearly tradition. Besides, I'm sure the other guys would kill me if I did." Your joke falls flat.

He chuckles. "No, they wouldn't. They're always happy to have some helping hands."

"Oh, that reminds me, how can I help?" You ask, not taking your eyes off of him.

"There's nothing much for you to do out here," Spencer replies. "Maybe you could help someone at the serving table."

You nod, relieved that he isn't going to make this harder than it has to be. You'll deal with any awkwardness later. Right now you want to focus on the job you came to do.

"Okay." You reply and head towards the serving line where you'll help serve the meals. As more and more people are fed with turkey, fixing and some pie, the more you forget about your troubles. Part of the reason why you became an FBI agent was to help others, so you enjoy doing this each year. It feeds your soul.

You finish in an couple of hours. You help clear everything up and clean up the area. Then, you head back to your car. You're almost there when you see Spencer approach you.

He stops in front of you, hands in his pockets. "How was it? Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah, it was fun. How about you?"

"Same." He nods. "It's always nice to help others."

You smile. "I agree. What's your favorite part of volunteering?"

"Probably seeing the smiles on their faces." He grins.

"That's good."

"Look, I know we haven't spoken so much lately, but... I miss talking with you. Is that okay to say?"

You exhale, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Spencer is talking to you again! "Yeah, that's fine. Of course."

"Good. I was actually wondering if you might like to grab something to eat after all this. Maybe go to my place and watch a movie."

You stare at him, dumbfounded. "Really?"

"Yeah. I feel like we haven't talked enough lately. And well, I don't think I should keep avoiding you. Not to mention, I really missed having you around."

Your heart starts beating faster. "Are you sure you're gonna be fine with that?"

"Of course. I just want to spend some time with you."

You grin and nod. "All right. I'd love to. I mean, I was planning on staying home and watching movies anyway. Think we could grab some Chinese food on the way there?"

"Ugh, as long as you ask for spoons. You know I don't know how to use chopsticks."

"Oh, that's right, the only thing the genius can't do. Just kidding." You chuckle.

The drive to Spencer's apartment feels like it's taking forever. You're both smiling, lost in conversation. It's so refreshing to feel like you're able to talk to him without having to worry about anything else. When you pull up to his building, you realize the streets are almost empty. It's already past nine in the evening.

"Wow, this place is dead."

"Well, of course, most people are with their families." Spencer replies as he walks in front of the car. He begins to recite some random historical fact about Thanksgiving: "Actually, the reason why Americans celebrate Thanksgiving in the first place is because of the pilgrims. In 1621, they were, supposedly, celebrating a successful harvest from the year before. It was then that the Native American tribes joined them. Of course, modern historians argue that it's all made up, but it's still celebrated today."

Spencer opens the door for you as you walk inside. You and him go up to your floor, taking off your coats and shoes.

"So, what movie do you wanna watch tonight?" Spencer asks as he heads over to the couch.

You sit next to him, looking around the room. "Hmm, I don't know. I was thinking something set during the holiday. Maybe You've Got Mail, have you seen it?"

"I don't think so. Should I?"

You shrug, "It's pretty cute. Meg Ryan's character is trying to start her own business, while Tom Hanks' character is trying to save his bookstore. It's a classic. You really haven't seen it? I thought you were into movies."

"Well, I am. But I'm also busy reading books." He sighs.

"Of course, you are." You two fall silent as the movie begins. The movie plays out as usual: Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks exchanging witty remarks and falling in love. It's funny to watch, but it makes you hyper aware of Spencer sitting next to you. His presence is comforting, his arm brushing against yours every now and then. Each time he does it, you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You shift in your seat, getting uncomfortable. He is completely absorbed in the movie, not paying any attention to you. You glance over at him, noticing he's staring at the screen. That makes you blush even more. You and him go forth and back with the chinese takeout, and the movie ends.

"What did you think of the movie?"

"I enjoyed it." He tells you with a genuine smile. "Have you ever thought about owning your own business?"

You shake your head. "Nope. I'm happy with being an agent."

"I have... I actually think I'd enjoy being like Tom Hanks' character. Own a bookshop. Read all day long, and get paid for it. That would be great."

You giggle at that. "I bet you'd be really good at it as well, you seem to know everything about literature."

"Yeah, I guess." He laughs. "What about you? If you could be anything other than an FBI agent, what would it be?"

You pause, thinking back. "Well, I have no idea. I've never thought about it before. I always wanted to be a teacher when I was little, but I don't think I'd enjoy that anymore."

He nods. "Well, I'm glad you decided to become an agent. You're a great addition to the BAU."

"Plus, I'm the only one that gets your coffee order right." You chuckle.

"I'll make sure to thank my lucky stars for that every night." He teases you. You laugh. You know exactly what's coming next.

"What about inside the FBI? Have you ever thought of transferring to a different unit?"

You look up at him, surprised by the question. "Why? Are you thinking about doing that?"

"Maybe."

You furrow your brow, confused. "Why? I mean, I'd be sad if you left the BAU, but you've always seemed to like it."

"I've been reconsidering a lot of my life choices recently. Ever since we...you know." He looks away.

You reach over, placing your hand on top of his. He turns to face you, looking down at your hand. "I'm sorry, Spence, for how I acted."

"Hey," he tries to smile. "It's okay. I understand where you were coming from. And I know it wasn't easy for you either."

"Thanks for understanding me. But I wasn't completely honest with you. There's something else I've been considering lately."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "And what might that be?"

"That you were right. I do have feelings for you. And I messed it up because I was scared. Letting you go has been one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Because, as much as I might have tried to deny it, I… I'm in love with you." You say it so softly, you almost don't believe it yourself.

His eyes widen, and he looks at you with surprise. ​​“Is this some sort of practical joke?“

"No!" You laugh. "I'm serious. I meant what I said. I’m in love with you, dumbass!“ you say, emphasizing your words with your hands. You look at him and see him in shock, as if he’s not capable of computing what you’ve just said. You’re in love with your best friend and, apparently, that doesn’t sound plausible to him. “You still don’t believe me.” You sigh.

"But..." he pauses, rubbing his face. "I don't know if I should believe you."

You scoff, "Are you kidding me?"

“It’s easy to confuse feelings for something they aren’t. In fact, research suggests that projection of romantic and sexual desire within opposite-sex friendships is so common that-“

“Don't talk to me about research!” You interrupt, feeling exasperated with his lecture.

“I'm sorry.” Spencer apologizes.

“Will you just listen to me, Spencer! I already know that, I also took the profiling classes, if you don't remember. For goodness sake. I’m sure about what I’m feeling. And it’s more than friendship. I’m in love with you!” You are exasperated at having to point this out so clearly to him. He still doesn’t look so convinced.

"I don't know." He admits, "We've been through a lot together, and I know you feel bad about what happened. But you didn't say anything when I confessed my feelings to you. And I guess I've been going through my own stuff, too." He waits a moment, his mind probably running over what he wants to say next. You can almost hear the gears turning in his brain.

Finally, he speaks. "You love me?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Yes." You answer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“But why didn't you say anything then?"

"I don't know. Maybe I was scared. Scared I wouldn't be able to keep these feelings to myself. Or maybe because..." You pause, hesitating again. You're not sure how to continue. "You didn’t give me the chance to reply. You didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt!” you say, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says, still looking down.

"It's fine." You take a deep breath. "I forgive you." You reach out, taking his hand in yours. He takes it, but he doesn't look completely convinced yet.

"Since when?"

You grin. "I'm not quite sure yet."

"I don't get it." He frowns. "How do you know you're in love, then?"

You shrug. "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out." He looks up at you, a little surprised. You continue: "Because you make me feel like I’ve never felt before. Because you’re always there for me, no matter what. Because even when I'm in a room full of people, I still manage to immediately recognise your ramblings. Because you care enough to be angry, and then help me deal with my anger. because the way that you look at me makes me feel so special that I still get butterflies in my stomach, something I was completely convinced didn’t exist. You look at me like I am the only person in the world and suddenly all the romantic comedies and love songs make sense. I still don’t know exactly how it happened, but I love you, Spencer Reid. So much. And don’t you dare ever doubt that fact.”

He stares at you for a long time, finally breaking into a huge grin. He starts laughing. You feel offended. “Are you making fun of me?”

"I'm not! I swear I'm not, it's just… I'm such an idiot. I've loved you ever since I laid eyes on you. I was just convinced you'd never love me back." The look of relief and adoration in his eyes melts your heart. Your mind can’t even catch up with your body because before you know it, you surge forward. Your arms wrap around Spencer’s neck as your lips pressed against his. He’s frozen in shock for a moment, before his lips begin to move in tandem with yours. You could kiss him for the rest of your life, but your lungs burning in your chest are a reminder that you need air.

"Wait a second..."Spencer pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. "What exactly does this mean?"

“For someone with an IQ of 187, you’re quite dense.” You say, leaning in for another kiss but quickly stop on your tracks when Spencer pushes you away, gently. “It means I love you and I want to be with you too, moron." You punch him lightly in the arm.

"Okay, well then I'll assume it's okay for us to... date?" Spencer asks, grinning at you. You giggle, nodding your head.

"Yes, definitely!"

"Well then, we have a lot of catching up to do." Spencer takes your hand, leading you to your bedroom. You sit down on the bed, pulling him onto your lap.

"I'm sorry for taking so long to say it. I love you."

"I love you." He answers, with a crooked grin.

You smile at him, and without further ado, promptly grab him by the collar and pull him down into another kiss, more gentle this time. He pulls away, the biggest smile you've ever seen on his face. His breath fanning across your lips brings you back to Earth, meeting his eyes. You feel a laugh bubble up inside you.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.” You reply, trying to suppress your laughter.

"Again." He says, smirking.

"I love you." You say again, giggling.

"I love you too." He replies, kissing you softly. 

· · ─────── · ♡ · ─────── · ·

[tartrazeen]

waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait

So I'm rewatching the show (again), and I'm just jumping around episode 11 "Dragon's Fury." There's a part where Angus and Deirdre find a bunch of Temrans fiddling with the plants that are driving Pyre nuts, and they're like, "Hey get out of Kells."

The Temrans reply to this by saying, "We don't take orders from women or thieves."

At first, I was gonna be like, "Well, at least Angus being a dick about girls doing anything isn't just him. He's the worst about it among our main cast, and it's one of his biggest flaws (even at the time), which is the point, but at least they're showing us that others in this world have the same sexist opinions about women. Whether or not it's historically accurate gets kinda nixed by how there's a fucking dragon, but it's good world-building." Y'know, my ususal cope for when Angus goes, "hahaha you're a girl lol."

(also he follows it this time by calling Deirdre a 'lady' so i think that's pretty cute uwu)

But then I thought about it for a second.

And it's like...

... Angus is nothing. 🤨

In a "Ummmmm, what's the world-building behind this, exactly" way.

Deirdre's a girl. You look at her and you can tell. The Temrans don't need any outside information for that. They also obviously picked at her weak point, because she's wearing a crown, and they don't say, "You're just a princess" or anything. It's targeted and it's clear.

With Angus, same thing: they call him a thief 'cause that's his weak point. He hates it. It's totally true and he still steals shit all the time lol but he absolutely loathes being called that. So it makes sense they'd throw that at him here.

But how the hell do they know?! He's not dressed any differently from other non-royals, and we've seen his old friend-thieves, who are dressed differently enough from him to not imply some kinda Thieves Dress Code. He's nothing. He's nobody worth knowing about, he's got nothing that gives it away, but the Temrans can take one look at him at clock whatever-it-is about him that says it?

I tried to guess, "Well, maybe they just know who he is because he's a Mystic Knight, so his reputation's gotten around." Because fine - totally fair... except in the sixth episode of the whole show, the Temrans are already calling him a thief! Torc brings it up to Maeve! Why would TORC know, when he has such a high rank that he doesn't need to have those details?! It doesn't change whether or not they kidnap him or where they put him after, because he goes into a regular dungeon cell either way.

But it does get me thinking :3

The first thing I'd do if I kidnapped a Mystic Knight is find out how hard Kells is gonna fight to get him back. Deirdre's the princess, so they obviously wouldn't drop it if she'd been kidnapped instead. Ivar's royal too, so maybe there's something to worry about there from his kingdom. Rohan's not revealed as Draganta yet, so he and Angus are on basically the same level of importance.

But that importance is, "We're the magical warriors keeping Kells alive." It's almost definitely why King Conchobar says they can't send a bunch of soldiers 'even for Angus' (with a pinch possibly because Deirdre's already being like 🥺 and he doesn't want to disappoint her further): Angus matters to Kells' survival enough that they can't casually lose him, which would be enough to warrant some attempt to get him back. Just being a thief doesn't change the Mystic Knighthood. Only being a thief might be worth discussing, because - again - it puts him on Rohan's level, not Ivar's. But it's useless trivia at that point.

Torc would say it to be a dick either way, but for how he'd know in the first place, he most likely heard it from the other Temran soldiers as they were bringing Angus in and was just happy to enough to mock him for it.

But then why do the Temran soldiers know? 🤔

I could see it being one of two main things:

1. Angus, hilariously, is tormenting the Temran soldiers off-screen, and they have first-hand experience with his shenanigans. I love that so, so much, but I'm also a little iffy on it 'cause he gets caught by the Kells' guards in the first episode. We don't know how, exactly, and later on, the guards make a point of showing they have first-hand experience with him, so maybe they were a lot more motivated to hunt him down. But on Temra's turf, it seems way too risky for him to be doing that. Before he was a Mystic Knight, there'd be nothing to gain from capturing him, because he isn't even one of them. He's from Kells (as far as we know ��). And he doesn't seem to be much of a cheat or conman, so I don't think he was hustling soldiers out of their coin 'fair and square'.

2. Angus has SUCH a reputation among Kells that Temra heard about it reeeeeeal quick when they went to look for him. The imposter guards say to Deirdre in that episode, "Have you seen Angus?" So they were going after the guy by name. No description or anything, just a name. And everyone's just supposed to know who that is.

Btw, THEY DID. Rohan points them immediately in the right direction. And do you know how common the name 'Angus' is over there?! Like... uh... very! But Angus + "Who's asking? A bunch of guards" is the ultimate shortcut to being like, "Oh, him." Asking around for who set a bunch of huts on fire for when he gets framed for arson? That needs a description and witnesses and a line up and testimony. But just, "Hey, we're looking for - yeah, him. Cool, thanks"? All you need for that is the right uniform and everyone else will figure it out.

And from there, Temra just kept remembering it lol. Angus is a Mystic Knight, and it's not hard to remember that one of those four happens to be a thief. It's the dark-haired one. The other one from Kells. Bam: that's Angus.

I'm going with Option #2. #1's funny but not likely. Even then, holy helllllll, how much chaos has Angus caused in his life that he's on enough of a first-name basis with Kells' guards to ALSO be known by name among the Temran soldiers?! 😭

[biscuitmd]

i feel lost - rant

there’s no stability in my life and i hate it -i finished everything i need to do with university. i’m only waiting for the government’s processes to pass so i can get my degree. i technically already have a job, and i only say technically because i feel like i shouldn’t be here? i did my internship in this company and they just told me to keep doing what i did, but i’m getting paid this time. don’t get me wrong i’m so happy to have this opportunity, it’s all online, it’s good money, but i can’t help but feel like i don’t deserve it. the company is super small, there’s no exact dates for anything and i’m having a hard time understanding that every month i’ll have a few days to do nothing. it’s during those days where i can’t help but wonder if they’ll never contact me again, i’m not under contract, it’s all freelance work but also not? something in between and it’s fucking me up tbh.  -my relationship is in shambles and i feel like i can’t do anything about that. it feels like i’ve done what i can and am only waiting for her to do her part as well. but also part of me feels like she doesn’t want to do anything. she’s not trying to better her situation whatsoever and the whole mess is dragging me down as well. -i want to do so much. i have so many dreams but i’m scared to just jump and do things. i wish i could care less and just go with the flow but i can’t, if i don’t have a stable plan, i collapse and i hate that. i wasn’t like this. -home life sucks too. i’m still living with my mother, can’t really move out cause the whole job thing is so not stable. we moved out and far from my father’s abuse almost 2 years ago, but my mother has completely spoiled my brother and enabled him so bad that he’s become a copy of my father. they’re the same, their abuse is the same but my brother uses this uwu voice when he says sexist and abusive shit to my mother so she thinks it’s cute or whatever. -on that note, no matter how much i despise my brother for being just like my father, i can’t help but want to help him in everyway i can (???) do i want to help him because truly want to? or do i want to help him because i feel obligated to since he is my younger brother? (and you know, toxic mexican family values) -also why is it that every time i feel lost i start thinking about all decisions i’ve made that changed the course of my life? (my coming out, the accident, my exes, my highschool choice, the time i dropped out of uni, my second uni choice, all the people i friended, the way i chose my courses, everything.) i hate it, but i can’t help it.  -i want a car, but also a bike. i want the freedom that comes with both but it’s so expensive and i also want to travel a bunch so wtf am i going to do with a car if i’m thousands of km away?  -part of me wants to run away and not tell a soul. not my family, not my friends, not my girlfriend, no one. my job is online and they have no way to contact my boss so i can disappear, people might not notice. -why can’t i believe in myself? people speak nicely of me but i feel like they’re lying, like they’re just saying those things to be nice and not hurt my feelings.  -i know my 13 year old self would love who i became but why do i not like myself? why don’t i know how to ask for help? why can’t i ask for help?  -i want to die, but have no desire of doing anything about it or against it. but at the same time i don’t want to put my friends through mourning. also would people really mourn me? am i important enough in their lives to mourn me? would they mourn me, as a person, or the things i could’ve done for them? would they really care if i’m gone?

[trashcan-caliber]

I’m having the most severe anxiety I’ve felt in a long time. I miss her. I miss her so much and nothing I do will ever bring her back.

It’s funny. I’m the one who was always pointing out red flags to her and she never fucking listened, but I fuck up and now she’s suddenly not color blind? It’s bullshit. I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, I’m not saying I should, I’m taking accountability for my actions, but I’m pointing out that the only time she seems to realize that there was a problem was when I pointed it out. She called me a “pathological lier” (spelt exactly like that), a coward, a bitch, etc. funny enough the shit I “liered” about was when I would shove my feelings to the side, or when I was raw dogging my fucking emotions. I would spout out what I felt at that exact moment knowing damn well I wouldn’t feel that way in a few days or maybe even the next morning or hour, but apparently that’s lying. She said I was talking shit about her, but what she walked in on (and eaves dropped, calls me a coward, but she can’t ask me herself about what happened) was me crying in the bathroom to a friend because she took over MY play rehearsal for MY play that I (ME) made. I was upset because I got overwhelmed after a game and she decided that she would, WITHOUT ASKING ME, go over everyone’s costumes for MY play. The one thing I was excited about. So instead of causing a scene, I went to cry in the bathroom and funny how she wasn’t the one who went in and comforted me, but someone else.

Another occurrence that is funny to me was how she admitted to actually talking shit about me to a whole group of guys that I FUCKING HATE. But one of the guys there, was a dude I liked. So imagine me connecting the dots when he stopped talking to me for a while.

You know what? I needed this. I needed to be reminded why I hate you. How you always made my life 10x more difficult than it needed to be and how I have people who have my best interest in mind coming over to my house tomorrow for New Years. So you can keep your ugly, sexist boyfriend who you decided to keep a “secret” from me and even told me was “below your standards”. You yourself have called him hard to look at. I love my friends and I can tell they actually care about me. Have a nice night and fuck you.

P.s. get bent.

[bitches-who-write]

I got some new ideas if ya don’t want somethin repetitive. I’m thinking how the Bowers gang would react to reader pulling out the hard hits in a verbal fight. Like screaming at Henry ‘that’s a lot coming from a boy who gets slapped around by their daddy everynight’. Of course, the insult is so-so deserved because they probably said something sexist or just rude.

Sorry this is so late!

Try Me Bitch

Warnings: Foul language and Sexist terms

You have been next door neighbors with Henry Bowers since you were toddlers.

So you basically grew up with him and his sexist/rude comments.

Now that you’re older the shit he says started to really offended you more and more.

On this particular day you were already in a shitty mood.

Your teacher had called your mom the night before and told her you were failing her class and she should look into getting you a tutor.

You’re not entirely sure how it happened but it happened.

Henry Bowers somehow heard about you failing this particular class.

Just your luck.

As you were walking out of your house to head to the library to meet up with the tutor your mom got, you heard someone yell your name.

“Hey Y/N!”

You sighed already knowing who it was and really not being in the mood to deal with him you decided to just keep walking.

But that didn’t stop him. “I heard about you failing Mrs. Mannion’s class, that's a real shame. It must be hard being female.”

This caused you to stop walking. You turned to look at him and his friends. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean Bowers?”

Henry had a big smirk on his face. “You know, because women have such small brains.”

You dropped your bag and began walking over to them. “I know you did not just say that.”

Patrick chuckled and spoke up “Relax princess. Everyone knows men are smarter than women.”

You glared at Patrick “How’s your brother Patrick? Oh wait you killed him. Nevermind.”

Patrick laughed even more. “Oooh she’s getting mad now guys. That's so cute. Don’t you have some laundry to fold or something?”

You clenched your fist “Go to hell Patrick.”

He had an amused expression on his face “I’ve already been there. It's quite nice actually.”

They guys started laughing when Victor spoke up.

“Hey if you’re going back in the house can you make me a sandwich?”

You turned your attention to Vic. “Hey Victor, what's it like being the btich of the group?”

This caused all the guys except for Vic to start laughing. Vic just looks dumbfounded.

You rolled your eyes and before you could even fit in another word, Belch finally spoke up.

“Don’t you know women should only talk when spoken to?

You started laughing “Oh wow, that's rich coming from the Momma’s boy. I saw you in the store the other day buying feminine products for your mom.”

At this point Henry and Patrick were the only ones left laughing.

You sighed and began walking away. “I’m not fucking with you guys anymore. I’m going to be late.”

Henry being Henry had to get the last word in. “You know I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up with a guy who slaps you around.”

You laughed and picked up your bag “That's funny coming from the guy who gets slapped around by his daddy every night.”

That was the last thing you said before getting in your car and leaving.

You knew you crossed the line with that last comment so you quickly sped off.

[imthebadguyyy]

Temporary Fix

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (fem!F1 driver!reader)

Fandom - F1

Summary - You're the only female F1 driver, and you're damn good at your job. Oh, and you also have a friends with benefits relationship with a certain 7x World Champion.

Warnings - smut, best friends -> lovers, slight exhibitionism

A/N - you have the second merc seat in this, so Valterri isn't here : (( not proof read

Sometimes, you hated yourself for following your passion. Driving a F1 car had been your dream ever since you could remember. The long process from karting to F1 had been a difficult one. When you were seven, you had a go kart track manager that you couldn't race there because you were a girl. That had cemented your will to be the best you could be, and you had done it.

You had made it into a Mercedes F1 seat after spending two years in Williams. It was safe to say that you were one of the best drivers, with killer instinct and an excellent eye for overtakes. The likes of Mika Hakkinen, Niki Lauda, Jacques Villeneuve and others had praised your skills, naming you one of the best talents in the current driver pool.

But the glory, the fame, the praise, sometimes you wished you could just evaporate into thin air. This was one of those times. Press conferences sucked, they really did. Reporters and journalists thought they were entitled to ask you the most sexist of questions, brushing them off by saying it was 'just a simple question'. Sometimes the drivers you were paired up with defended you, like Seb or Pierre or Lewis or even Kimi. Sometimes people didn't want to say anything, or they just laughed it off or answered for you.

This was not one of those times. Charles was supposed to be your partner for the press conference, but he wasn't feeling too great so you were on your own. It had started off fine, with the usual questions like 'how are you feeling about the race?' 'is it gonna be a good weekend for Mercedes?' and then it had gone to 'Do you think you being the only woman here, you should have a special suit?' or 'Are you sure it's a good idea for you to continue another year in F1?' that's what had irked you off.

With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you bit back the cutting response that had sprung to your lips, opting to simply look disapprovingly in silence, speaking more words in the quiet. Eventually, the conference was over, and you made your way out of the hall, deep in thought, so lost in your own world, you didn't notice when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into one of the nearby storage closets.

Your protest of "Hey!-" was cut off by a pair of lips pressing to yours, strong arms wrapping around your torso. "Heard you had a bad day with the press" Lewis mumbled against your lips, brow furrowing when you sighed and let your head drop onto his shoulder. "Yeah they're such fucking jerks" you replied, closing your eyes. "I'm sorry you have to deal with them every time" he continued, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Eh, I mean I'd rather not talk about it" you continued, letting your fingers trace a pattern on his chest.

The silence in the room was disturbed by the ringing of Lewis's phone, making you jump softly. "Bono" he answered, looking down at the screen. "Pick it up"

"Hello?"

"Lewis, we're waiting for the meeting? And is Y/N with you?" Bono's voice rang through the tiny closet, as you turned to look at Lewis with wide eyes. Shit, the debrief. "Yeah, I'm coming! Oh, and I'll see if I can find Y/N" he replied, making you suppress a smile. The moment he put the phone down, the both of you burst into giggles, before he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips. "Well, we should go" he said, biting back a smile when you sighed, and cuddled into his shoulder. "Fine"

"But I'll make it up to you tonight baby" he continued, as a shiver ran down your spine. Oh yeah, you two had a friends with benefits situation going on too. No biggie

Except, well, you know you couldn't tell anyone, and you were definitely in love with each other, but I mean, of course it was better to be stupid and just simply refuse to acknowledge those feelings for each other.

♥︎☾☁︎

It had happened, when Lewis won his championship in Turkey. The team had thrown a (socially distant) party, and you had gotten just a little more drunk than you should have, but the champagne was flowing, tequila shots were being taken, beer was being chugged so you just jumped in and had a few more glasses of wine than you should have, and participated in a few rounds of shots.

Before you had known, a pair of hot lips had crashed onto yours, and your arms had tightly held onto a broad pair of shoulders, as the pair of you had stumbled up to your hotel room, crashing backwards onto the bed. Your drunken mind had been sober enough to recognise the 'Still I Rise' tattoo across his back when he tugged his shirt off.

At the same time, Lewis had recognised your face, heart speeding up ever so slightly because holy shit he was making out with you, and he really, really liked you. Before he knew it, your dress was down to your knees, and his shirt was a rumpled mess on the floor, your friendship gone far beyond repair, but only in the best way possible.

The next morning, you had let out a groan when the sunshine had flashed into your eyes, rolling over to find Lewis lying next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he slept peacefully. Your heart rate had sped up, and you had shot up, scaring the living day light out of Lewis. He had awoken with a start, confusion present in his brown eyes, before realization had sunk in, and he had shot out of bed, wrapping one of the towels around his lower body.

But before the two of you could get awkward, he had strutted over to you, grabbing your face in his hands before pulling you in for a kiss that made you feel weak and light headed.

And then the both of you came to the conclusion that you two wanted something loose and flexible, something fun with no commitment.

But was it what you wanted?

♥︎☾☁︎

Sometimes debriefs could drag on. And on. And on. Eventually, the engineers left the room, leaving only Toto, Lewis, Bono, Angela, James and yourself in the room. Over the years, it had become like a family for you, and you loved them to absolute bits. The mood in the room had changed, as you all joked around for a while.

Watching from the other side of the room, Lewis couldn't help the smile that etched itself onto his face, when he saw you throw your head back with laughter at something Toto said, inhaling sharply when your neck came into clear view, a sudden urge to mark you up settling in on his body.

It was a thrill, to think of how many times you had come undone on his fingers and his tongue, how many nights you begged for him to fill you up with his cock. It was a thrill to think of all the times he had cried your name out in ecstasy while your tongue worked wonders around him. And yet, here you were, acting as if you two were just best friends, not two people who could barely keep their hands off of each other.

Just two nights ago, he had made you scream his name so loud, the person the next room, who just happened to be Daniel, had not let him hear the end of it. Thankfully, the Aussie hadn't realized it was you in his bed. Two nights ago, he had made you see stars, and after that you had rewarded him with the performance of his life to Nights Like This by Kehlani.

Snapping back to reality when a slight poke was applied to his shoulder, Lewis looked over to see Angela looking at him with a slight smirk on her face. He strongly suspected that the woman definitely had some sort of inkling about the both of you. How ? No idea. But she was a crazy smart woman, and was bound to have figured out that he was seeing someone.

It didn't help that atleast half the people on the grid had at some point teased him, telling him the both of you were made for each other. It was like the universe was pushing the both of you to be together, and he kept pushing it away

"So are we feeling confident going into this weekend?" Toto asked, grabbing his attention from the smirking blonde.

"Yup!" Your cheery answer elicited a smile from everyone in the room. "Yeah I think so" he said, watching as you flashed him a quick smile. "Okay, then, I think we're done for now. Any questions?" Bono asked, scanning a data sheet in front of him. "No, i'm good" you replied, reaching over to grab your phone. "Yeah me too" Lewis said, far too concerned with what was going to happen later that night to pay his full attention to Bono.

"Okay then. We'll see you tomorrow"

And with that they departed. Before Lewis could follow you, a hand grabbed his and he turned to see Angela, Toto and Bono looking at him expectantly. "So whose got you all distracted and flustered?" Angela asked, earning a smirk from Toto. "What? No one" he replied, slapping himself mentally for being all day dreamy during a meeting. "Oh really? I'm willing to bet you didn't hear anything I said during the meet except the last bit" Bono said, smiling when his driver got visibly flustered.

"So do we know her?" Angela continued, watching him closely for any giveaway reactions. "How would you know her if I don't like anyone?" Lewis said, hoping to God it didn't come across as awkward as it sounded.

"Never said you liked anyone. I'm saying you're in love with someone" Angela said, watching as her friend's eyes widened in shock, and he shook his head profusely. "Okay are you on something? I'm just gonna head back to the hotel now" he murmured, confused, and somewhat taken aback by her bluntness.

Ignoring the looks on the others faces, he made his way out to the paddock, trying his hardest to make sense of his feelings. Was a casual relationship with you what he wanted? He wanted so much more than that.

Lewis knew, deep down in his heart, that he wanted to hold your hand in public, and kiss you right on the lips in front of everyone when you shared a podium. He wanted to be able to call you his, to not just spend the night with you, but to spend all his days with you. But you didn't want that.

Or so he thought.

♥︎☾☁︎

Back at the hotel, Lewis busied himself with working out, trying to push all his frustrations out via the workout. He knew that you were going to turn up in the night, and he looked so damn forward to seeing you each night, but god, he hated it when you left in the morning. Every morning when your warm body slipped out from under the sheet, his arms would tighten for a moment, before your giggle would bring him back to reality and he'd hastily draw back, smiling at you. His favourite moment was when he came to your hotel room in Spain. In the morning, he had woken up before you, and before leaving, he had pressed a little kiss to your forehead. The most gorgeous smile had curled onto your lips, and his heart had melted into a little puddle when you rested your cheek on his hand

And then in Monaco, when he had taken you to his apartment, you had woken up before him, and he had woken up to the sight of you bringing a tray of pancakes and fruits, followed by a soft kiss to his cheek.

It was those moments he cherished, but it was those same moments that confused him.

His train of thought was broken when a knock echoed in the room, as he walked over to the door, opening it to find : you

"Hey" you greeted him, walking in and shedding your jacket. "Hey" he replied, reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat off of his body. "Wow um, is this a bad time?" You asked, eyes trailing down his abs, watching as his body glistened in the fading sun light. "No its fine, I just finished my workout. You hungry?" He continued, biting back a smirk when he saw your eyes roaming his body.

"W-what? Yeah, i, um, suppose - yeah" you murmured, mind already far down the gutter.

"For food darling, not for sex" he said, making you blush and let out a small gasp. "Lewis!" You chided, shoving him softly. "You know you were thinking it" he mumbled, pushing you up against the wall. "Yeah I was" you whispered back, yanking him forward by his shoulders, slamming your lips against his.

Lifting you up from the waist, he pressed his body further into yours, one of his hands wandering down to your ass, squeezing harshly, earning a moan from your lips. Taking the opportunity, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, groaning when you let your core grind against him.

Leading you towards the bed, he stopped in confusion when you stopped him, maneuvering him towards the balcony. "Want you to fuck me against the window or in the balcony" you gasped out, earning a moan from him.

"Right where anyone could see us, hmm? Didn't know you were into that baby" he growled, grabbing your earlobe in between his teeth, earning an airy gasp from you, as the wetness threatened to seep down your legs.

"Mmhmm" was all you could muster, your mind so clouded with desperation you couldn't form a single coherent thought. The only thing you were aware of was that only Lewis could make you feel the pleasure you wanted to feel, only he would take you to that little piece of heaven, only he would hold your hand and fuck you into oblivion, and he would still be there to clean you down with a sponge softly.

"If you insist"

Grabbing you roughly, he slammed your body against the massive hotel room window, ripping the mercedes team shirt you were wearing off of your quivering form, letting it drop to the floor, before he hooked his fingers into the material of your jeans, tugging the denim down your legs

With a soft groan, you pulled his nike shorts down his legs, moaning when his cock came into view, the throbbing in between your legs making you whimper, arousal and need growing tenfold in your tummy.

"Please" you whispered, meeting his eyes, so he could see the pure desperation in your eyes. "Please what?" He said, a certain roughness you hadn't heard before creeping into his voice

"Please fuck me" you moaned, gasping when he brought his hand up to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly. "Oh trust me doll, i will. But first, i want to have you dripping wet and ready for me. I want to make you cum on my fingers, so you're wet and ready for my cock. Do you want my fingers princess?" he continued, feeling his arousal grow when you whimpered and whined.

"Words baby girl. Or I'll just leave you here with your pathetic fingers. I bet you can't even reach all those spots inside you that make you scream, when your tiny little fingers try to please yourself. I bet you just feel like sinking into yourself, but the thought of my fingers keeps you awake. Do you do that, sweet girl? Do you pretend your fingers are mine when you're touching yourself, hmm?'

When you didn't answer, he delivered a smack to your ass, groaning when you moaned at the pleasurable sting. "Yes" you whispered abashed.

"Don't be shy baby. Its okay. I know you feel so good when I love on you. I can see it when you scream my name" and with that, his pointer finger began circling your clit, rubbing circles around it before shifting so he was rubbing the sensitive bud directly.

Your moans of ecstasy were music to his ear, a smile gracing his features, as he let his middle finger slip into you, thrusting it in and out of you. Your soft cry of "fuck" cracked when he shoved his pointer into you as well, scissoring them in and out of you

"Oh fucking hell Lew-" "Shh my darling, i didn't say you could talk, did I?" He said, fingers working at an indescribably quick pace, as the knot in your tummy tightened and threatened to loosen. "I'm gonna-" "go ahead baby" he murmured, using his pointer and thumb to pinch your clit roughly, as you came around his fingers with a scream

"Good girl. You wanna put that pretty little mouth to use somewhere else?" he asked, watching as you dropped to your knees eagerly, (just like I would do irl) reaching up to rest your hands on his hips.

"Someone's eager to suck my cock hmm? Be a good girl for me, and don't waste time" he ordered, a shudder running down his body when your nails traced the veins on his cock, and then as they reached downwards, your thumb circling his tip, collecting his pre cum on your finger. Then you shoved your thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, before sucking softly on your digit, rolling your eyes back. You were snapped back to reality when Lewis roughly yanked your head up, pure arousal clouding his pupils

"You better use your mouth right now, or i swear i will leave you here alone to pleasure yourself" he threatened, moaning when you took his tip into your mouth at once, sucking softly before swirling your tongue upwards.

The feel of your tongue on him made him buck his hips into your mouth, the unexpected movement pushed him quite far back in your mouth, looking up at him, you hollowed out your cheeks, taking more and more of his cock into your mouth, the sounds he was making above you fuelling you. You took him as far back as you could without gagging, as a strangled moan of "Fuck Y/N!"left his lips. He grabbed your hair, tugging upwards, the tingling on your scalp sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. "Fuck baby, you're gonna have to stop now, I really want to fuck you now" he growled out, pulling you up before pushing you towards to balcony railing

Lining up with your entrance, he watched as you let out a shaky breath, eyes falling shut, as you clenched in anticipation.

"Are you sure you want this Y/N?" he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign that he was being too rough, or that you didn't want what was coming next

"Turning your head around to face him, you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. "I've never been more sure baby" was your affirming reply.

Kissing you back with the same fervour, he slowly pushed into you from behind, the both of you groaning in sync when your walls enveloped him. "fuck you feel so good darling. So fucking tight" lewis moaned, making you moan as well as the pleasure coursed through your veins.

Reaching around you, Lewis rubbed your clit while he continued to snap his hips against yours, making your breasts bounce against your chest, your hands gripping the balcony railing for dear life. Thank god it was dark.

He continued to rub and pinch you clit, before swiping his fingers through your wet folds. Then he shoved his fingers into your mouth, prompting you to suck on them

"Be an angel and suck on my fingers for me" he growled, moaning when your mouth eagerly closed around his fingers, sucking them with fervour.

Snapping his hips into you desperately, his hands encircled your waist, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, swishing his fingers around in your mouth. "Fuck baby thats it, i'm gonna cum" he groaned, capturing your earlobe in between his teeth, moaning when you clenched down on him again

"Oh fucking hell-" with a moan, he came into you, pulling his fingers out of your mouth to rub your clit again, sighing with satisfaction when you came around him with a scream of "Lewis!"

Panting, he dragged you back to the bed, both of you collapsing into the covers.

Your chest rising and falling rapidly, you curled up into his chest, letting your head droop onto his shoulder, as his fingers traced his initials onto your hip.

"Well princess, we seem to have a problem here" he said, as you snapped your head up to look at him in confusion.

"I think i'm in love with you"

♡☾☁︎

A/N - part 2? Also feel free to drop a comment, i'd really appreciate it 🤍 thank you so much for reading 🤍

[luna-rainbow]

You know, after Multiverse of Madness, I never want to see Wanda again. And it's heartbreaking because she used to be my favorite character, but I just feel that she's irredeemable at this point. They did such a shit job explaining how the Darkhold works that it's hard to use that as a strong justification that she'll ever be able to be heroic again. The most they give us is vague "oh it corrupts people" and "it showed me what I want." So it's hard to see how it can be a strong defense for her actions, especially when Agatha had the book for centuries and didn't go nuts and kill everyone.

She's just so vile and monstrous and cruel throughout the whole movie. I can't see any of the heroic characters in the MCU wanting to be anywhere near her ever again; Strange clearly didn't think she was worth saving as he didn't even try to convince her not to drop the fucking mountain on herself.

And, considering how many fans have outright hated her and refused to give her the benefit of the doubt with Westview, I don't see how any of them will forgive her for killing multiple beloved fan favorites.

It makes me almost wonder if I was wrong in my love and defense of Wanda all these years. That maybe she really always was a monstrous villain and I was just too naïve to see it. That everyone who's hated on her and insisted that she's evil was right and I was wrong to ever love her as a character. I just don't know if my interpretation of the character for all these years was wrong, or if Marvel really has resorted to absolute insane levels of gaslighting to destroy a powerful female character.

Idk man, it just sucks to see how despite the constant touting of "look how progressive we are now!" Marvel is still openly using every sexist and ableist trope in the book to tear down characters that don't fit the white, straight, male generic action hero mold.

I feel like Wanda has always been a very divisive character since her introduction. I don’t think it was ever quite clear whether she knew Strucker was Hydra before she signed up? From memory, Strucker was operating as SHIELD in Sokovia, and was encouraging the local rebels (the twins being part of them) to destabilise the country. But I think a lot of fans remember her as choosing to join Hydra.

A lot of fans are also very coloured by their biases. Wanda has faced up against Tony multiple times, as you can imagine a lot of Tony fans dislike her. A lot of people also think she’s let off too easily? Which I tend to disagree with. There’s a saying — “you use a contribution to pay for a mistake”. That’s what Wanda was doing in CACW, she was using her powers to try and help people to make up for the mistakes she made in her youth. At the end of her series she apologised to the town, reversed her spell and put herself into exile. I still see people calling for her head though, so I think there’s no pleasing some people.

I feel like a lot of MCU stans also…refuse to look at the MCU as a story by itself but keep drawing the comics into it, with disregard to what that actually means to character consistency in the MCU. When I pointed out to my friend that it didn’t make sense for Wanda to go that way after her whole series of dealing with her grief, she just shrugged and said “yeah but Wanda is a villain in the comics and she had the House of M story” — I don’t know the accuracy of that but that’s certainly the sort of stuff that gets thrown about a lot on MCU hype sites like screenrant.

I think I’ve grown pretty good at ignoring MCU canon these days. And I think that’s what you have to do. I’ve seen a lot of support for Wanda though, even if it’s along the lines of “she’s hot while murdering people”. It’s sad because I think the series did an amazing job at fleshing out her character and lending credence to her vulnerability. She’s someone orphaned at a young age and grew up with a war, there is a lot of trauma and loss and misguided naïveté guiding her actions. I don’t think Wanda has ever been intentionally selfish or evil, which is why DSMoM is disappointing for her story.

[fcb-mv33]

The dyslexia thing my brother uses it all the time to get out of stuff 💀😂

Also the fact that LH cult keeps forgetting that some of their fans are racist 😂 mates did you not see what some of them was saying about some drivers, also the fact that Calum has said that he was stopped at Abu Dhabi airport and they more or less was commenting abuse at him, yet if Lewis was stopped they would go up the fucking wall over it, I’m sorry but where’s the logic behind it 🥴

Lewis Hamilton while he is a good driver he had a amazing car behind him for 7/8 years while he was winning championships with F1 his first was and ahold of been Massas, he’s friends with some shady people his fans brush that over, he says some things about his nephew they are suddenly blind, he comes of social media and unfollows his dog and everyone and stops talking to media they cheer him on, he allows his fans to abuse other drivers and Redbull staff he enables them, eggs them on yet he don’t get called out by it, I’m sorry but you guys cannot say fucking anything now, other fucking drivers are allowed to stop talking to journalists and media. Max called out his “fans” in Austria I believe and yet Lewis fans shitted on him, max gave a detailed response to the problem Lewis fans twisted it yet Lewis gave a half assed response on it 🤨.

The fact that most of these people sending threats to Max and Redbull are adults grown ass adults who can Drive, Vote, buy a house, Drink Alcohol ect are sending hate,death threats, racist remarks, they need to grow the fuck up and Let the DRIVERS sort themselves out they don’t need people butting in, yes defend your favourite drivers that’s fine but do not send anything to them.

I’ve seen Lewis fans screech because some fans are like come on I want him to DNF in a safe way yet Lewis fans I’ve seen are like I want max to crash in a fiery ball and I’m like are you fucking serious!

Anytime someone is taking the piss outta my spelling I will look them dead in the eye and saw “you do know I’m dyslexic? I’m really insecure about it” and their faces DROP😭😭I love the power lmao.

Like all lh fans preach about mental health, equality, and anti racism YET send racist abuse to Calum, send sexist abuse to Hannah and abuse Max constantly like they are genuinely cunts yet Lewis has never called it out? He gets a pass cause he’s Lewis? Doesn’t call out his fanbase wishing Max death, sending Red Bull staff abuse, sending Maxs family abuse? We never see it cause it’s Red Bull. Lewis doesn’t give a fuck unless it makes him look good🤷🏼‍♀️

The thing that makes me laugh about the abuse being sent to Max is that people genuinely aren’t upset for Checo they just want to hate on Max it’s literally that simple. They just wanted another reason to abuse Max and tbh Checo gave them really more of a reason to send Max abuse.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz brekker x reader In The Rain

A/N: So this is going to be interesting... So because Kaz has some problems with touching people I thought I would make the reader suffer as well... The reader in this story has problems with skin contact as well and was abused as a kid so beware! Also this was also posted on my wattpad account you can find me on wattpad @ kk123huff!

Warnings: Bad writing, CHILDHOOD ABUSE, HARASSMENT, language, HAPHEPHOBIA, SEXUAL ABUSE, THE MENAGERIE, THE READER THINKS OF HERSELF AS NOT GOOD ENOUGH YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL IN EVERY WAY FOLKS! Some angst then some fluff near the end. You have been warned!

Summary: The crows are on a mission (Matthias is alive) and the crows don't know you very well (well expect for Kaz you and him have known each for years and he's technically your boyfriend but the other crows have no idea!!!) It's a dangerous mission (well when is it not hehe.) And Kaz is going to die but you save him! Let's see what will be revealed to the rest of the crows because of this dilemma. The reader also can turn into a creature like; wings come out of her back claws produce and she gets horns and a tail, and Fangs. She has a healing factor, kinda like Spiderman's, and she can touch people and they can die, and she basically has a mix between Alina's powers and the Darklings powers that I call moonlight magic. All her senses are amped up and same with her strength, agility, speed the whole shebang. Cheesy I know. But anyways onward and enjoy!

(All rights go to Leigh Bardugo and You I just own the plot!)

Reader p.o.v.

Running in the rain sucks. Especially when your running from the Blacktips. Especially when there are Blacktips chasing you and another group of people named the Hunters. Especially when those people were hired by Tante Helen. So to start off today I was going on a mission with Kaz and his crow friends, to officially end the Blacktips and whip them out  completely. Then to give the mission a good start none of the crows (besides Kaz) were trusting me at all. And I didn't expect them to but when I mean trust I mean like mission level of trust so they would at least trust my capability or at least trust Kaz. But they absolutely did not!    

Which is fine, because why would they trust a monster? Not that they know I'm one (again besides Kaz.)

So when we went to ambush their leader (the Blacktip's) there was no one there.

Well Kaz's entire plan just about went up in flames in those couple moments.

So we scope the area a bit till this guy jumps me and holds a knife to my throat.

Fantastic. This day is just perfect.

Being held right up against a man that's not Kaz with a history in the menagerie may off set me a tinsy bit. Screw you guy. Then it was fine though because I hit a spot on his neck to make his hand go numb so he drop the dagger and with his knife I killed him. Slit throat of course.

The irony that comes with living.

Then at least 33 men because apparently the Blacktips are sexist come into the abandoned warehouse. Kaz turned to us gave us a nod and we ran. While we're running for our lives these guys (there's about 8 of them) which call themselves the Hunters as they yelled what they wanted at us and came pouncing towards me. And of course they wanted to kill me.

So life is just amazing right now, and running in the rain sucks. Screw the rain saint/god because I'm going to tear their eyeball out if I meant them in death.

I run around a corner with the rest of the crows following because I can run inhumanly fast (well not really just faster then the average human.) Then I run into a weird sort of field thing that was close the the warehouse so we can fight and know where everyone is because their is a lot of people who want to kill me and Kaz. Great.

You could just let your other side out and this could be done in minutes. A voice in my head whispers.

Shut up. I think to myself. Everyone hates a monster. I think as I take a quick glance over to Kaz.

The crows and I gather ourselves together, I look to Kaz; "We could still end this, the Blacktips's leader is here." I nod my head over to the big bulky man with dirty blonde hair and redish pale skin looking for our hiding spot.

Kaz's gaze is on mine unwavering with those topaz eyes with that strike of green in them every now and then. "We could." He says

"But..." Nina says. I glance over to her quickly, but what? So I say exactly what I think.

"But what?" I snap slightly annoyed- we should be getting a move on there's 41 people to take down we have to get going.

"Those guys wanted to kill you Y/n, it's not safe for anyone here it could be potentially fatal to this job."

I shrug my shoulders uncaring, who would care if I died? Kaz might for a while. I sneak a glance at Inej. But he has her, and I know she's 100 times better than I am Kaz just needs to see that.

"Who isn't after to kill me these days? Plus a jobs a job, I die, I die, there's nothing anyone can do about that. If I'm going to die might as well do it fighting, also you don't just stop a job you keep on going regardless. It doesn't matter if I'm a casualty as long as the job got done then it's fine."

Everyone looks at me with a face of shock apparently not expecting that answer.

"So what's the plan." I snap yet again being set of guard by that damn man.

Kaz sighs knowing he can't stop me. "Okay..." He starts talking. "I know how we're going to get out of this."

_________________Mild time skip like 25mins top, and your just about to start the plan____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sorry that was weird, onward!

I take Kaz's hand and squeeze it slightly but let it go just as fast. Just a reminder that I needed - even if he had the gloves. He glances over to me and his face is a mix of emotion;  worry, love, anger, and some more I couldn't identify.

Love? He could never love you. The voice hissed. You will never be enough, you monster! The voice laughed. You must be going insane! I growl slightly. Quiet. Fine suit yourself to your madness you inhuman.

Kaz looks over to me and his mouth quirks up a little bit and he nods at me.

"Come on let's go show them what a murder of crows look like." I grin sadistically.

We come barging out of our hiding spot hitting them at all ends. I pull out my knives and charge towards the Hunters.

I slash my knife onto one of their arms and the man growls in pain, as I place another cut right on his thigh. He nods his head and 7 other men come to back him up. I cock my head to the side and grin.

"Well boys, it looks like it might not be a fair fight for you!" And with that I'm off. I pounce on the one beside the one I already injured and with two knives in each hand like claws coming out of my skin I slash his throat open and he drops to the ground dead.

Then 3 come at me this time while 4 come around to my back. Not a chance kiddos.

I jump really high into the air then with amazing speed come down onto 2 guys killing them on impact. Now the other five are pissed at me for killing 2 guys at once great. They circle around me, it's like their trying to Hunt a predator with their sloppy movements and mindsets mind you.

"We we're sent in here by Tante Helen to bring you to her or to at least kill you." The man smiles.

"It may be easier than we thought." Okay so you can call me whatever you want I don't care but never tell me I can't kill you. It's the only thing I seem to be good at.

I howl out into the open and I can feel the transformation already.

Dark black feathery wings spout from my back like flowers on steroids, I feel my teeth take the shape of some deadly fangs, of brown-red cat like tail comes out from under, horns warp around my head like warping paper, and majestic claws form onto my nails.

The men look at me in fear and a certain blood lust is there that wasn't before.

"You ready boys."

It's a mess of bodies and I think there's only 4 guys left, I jump on one of them tear off his head blood splattering all over me even though it probably didn't matter because there was blood all over my body at this point. I stick my claws into the other chest and he slowly falls to the floor chocking on his own blood.

Then I see it.

It's obviously another man but the difference here is that he has a gun trained on Kaz while he's occupied with the other boy.

And he's pulling the trigger.

Without so much as a second thought my wings lift up and take flight and with a boost of moonlight magic I fly right into Kaz causing him to slip and kill the other man.

Oh and I got shot.

Blood sputters from my chest and I fall to the ground. Kaz whips towards me and yells; "Y/n!"

Or least I think he did everything is a bit hazy right now. I feel myself transform back into my normal human form. And Kaz cradles me in his arms and I realize with a first he doesn't have his gloves on. He commands something to Jesper about killing the last man and something to Nina and Inej about finding healers.

"It's going to be okay Y/n stay with me damn it!" But it sounded slow and hazy - it must be that damn rain. Suddenly I gasp in realization. I could use my moonlight magic to heal myself. In my excitement I accidentally kissed Kaz.

We haven't kissed before think that neither of us we're ready but by the saints, I never wanted to stop.

His lips we're gentle and soft against mine, they shifted with mine as if we were meant to fit together. It was all the stars in the universe coming down on us, it was binding us yet it was destroying everything around. Beautiful destruction.  

Oh and I healed myself while this happened.

We pulled away running out of air and because Kaz thought I was still dying.

"Moonlight magic it helped me heal some of the way, my healing factor will do the rest." I manage to say with Kaz so close to me.  He raises his eyebrow, then Kaz fucking Brekker gives me a full on relived smile.

Then in that moment we realized we had an audience.

Fuck this shit.

Kaz picks me up (what the fuck) but I'm secretly glad because I don't think I could even stand up right now. The crows faces are just priceless I giggle a little and right now it doesn't even matter to me that I showed them the monster, Kaz trusts them so I should take that leap. Plus Kaz and I just toke a big step in our relationship I couldn't be happier.

"Meet my girlfriend."

Their faces transform into surprised and even more shock, but a little bit of pride too. And I smile because for the first time in years the voices in my head are speechless.

So that's that I guess. I honestly suck at writing for Kaz and there may be a part 2! We will see... 🤪

2014 Words

-thedelusionreaderbitch

[redhoodieone]

Fucking Perfect

A/N: Hey, y’all!!! Here’s another fic that was actually a request from @jasontoddslut. I hope you all enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language, violence, and smut!

It wasn’t that late. With a DVD and a large free pepperoni pizza in hand (the pizza was actually a “thank you” from a local pizza owner after Jason saved his life), Jason couldn’t help but keep smiling underneath his red helmet as he drove to his and Danielle’s home. They were supposed to have a night in; no distractions, no interruptions, and no patrolling, for him at least.

But Bruce had called him for help last minute around 9:00 because Joker decided to break out of Arkham Asylum with every other inmate, from Harley Quinn to Scarecrow. To say the mission was bizarre as hell wouldn’t be exaggerating. Jason and Dick laughed their asses off the entire night because it was like a high school reunion for all of Gotham’s villains. Even Bruce couldn’t help but grin a little when he saw the Riddler and Penguin link arms and skip down the street behind Bane, Two Face, Mr. Freeze, and Killer Croc.

It was one hilarious but memorable sight.

But now all Jason could think about was getting back home to Danielle as he speeds down the streets on his bike from Arkham while holding the box of pizza and DVD. Just thinking about a hot shower, cuddling with Danielle on the couch under a fluffy blanket, and just falling asleep in the comfort of their home makes him consider giving up the vigilante life sometimes.

He wondered what his life would be like not being everyone’s hero.

No more subtle or dangerous injuries. Staying in bed the entire night. Having the ability to go here and there and do everything normal like others. Maybe even settling down somewhere in the countryside, where he can finally retain his own property, perhaps build himself his own auto salvage business where he’ll specialize in fixing and rebuilding expensive, fast cars and bikes.

Having something to call his own has always been a secret dream of his. Only Y/N knows all that.

Jason could just see it now: waking up early to see the beautiful sunrise from the safety on the ground, arm wrapped protectively around his wife, who would be pregnant with their child...

He initially tenses up at that particular thought. Jason has never even spoken about his desire to have kids. Hell, he has always boasted about hating kids; often complaining about them being bratty, loud, and just being unbearable little shits.

Jason even pretends to despise Dick and Barbara’s five-year-old son, Tommy, just because he enjoys pissing them off. But in all honesty, Jason loves his nephew and knows damn well that if anything were to happen to Tommy...Jason would fucking kill them in a heartbeat.

Fuck, even Barbara gets on Jason’s ass about when he’s finally going to settle down and have kids of his own. She and Dick make the normal, perfect life look easy. They were brave and strong enough to walk away from the vigilante life, only promising Bruce that they’ll help him every now and then and only for big emergencies.

Jason couldn’t believe it at first. Dick and Barbara just happily moved to a safe, typical suburban but luxurious home far away from Gotham. They made it look so effortless and picture-perfect.

With Dick and Barbara gone, all Jason has is Tim and Damian around. Which isn’t much considering they have their own lives.

And Jason used to have Y/N, his best friend.

Before Jason’s thoughts could consume him more, he pulls up to the private parking garage at his penthouse. After he parks his bike, he climbs off and removes his red helmet; quickly inhaling air after sweating so much. Holding the helmet underneath his left arm, he carries the pizza and DVD and heads to the elevator.

He sighs heavily; his back hurts like fuck after being thrown around a lot from Killer Croc. He wonders if it would be completely sexist or just entirely fucked up if he asks Danielle for a backrub.

We’ve been together for two years. She knows my line of work, and if she really loves me, she’ll give me an all-body massage...and besides...this is the first time I’m asking for one anyways, he thinks to himself.

The elevator dings and opens for him; revealing the private floor that is his, courtesy of Bruce. If it weren’t for Bruce, Jason wouldn’t have the luxury of such a private and quiet place to call home. Bruce owns the entire building, mostly business associates and employees live and stay here anyways.

Jason walks to the door and opens it; is actually quite stunned that it’s unlocked. Mostly because he’s OCD about that, even if this floor and this entire building is private, Jason still likes to take precaution.

The guy fucking grew up on the streets and has seen and done bad things. Really bad. But he’s not like that anymore. Oh, no he’s not. Now, Jason lives by his new principles, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a badass anymore or is violent by nature. He is still Jason Todd.

Stepping inside his penthouse, Jason kicks the front door shut with his heavy boot and sets the pizza and DVD on the entryway table. He puts his helmet back on and quickly pulls a gun from his thigh holster. Jason takes this seriously, just as with any mission or recon.

He quietly goes down the hallway, immediately notices their bedroom door is cracked open and a light is on. He raises his gun and says...

Fuck it. I’m going in with my gun. Hope this all ends well with no blood.

Jason kicks open the bedroom door and has the most fucked up, perfect view of his girlfriend, Danielle, in bed with another man; a man who is on top of her, fucking her underneath the covers, IN THEIR BED!!!!!

Danielle gasps in surprise. “Jason! What-what are you doing home so early?!” she panics. She sits up and pushes the man off of her. Her tits are on display, after the blanket falls from her chest.

The male brunette is shocked at seeing Jason. The naked man uses the sheet to hide his lower body. Jason thinks this guy is a fucking tool. He’s shaking badly, and he’s sputtering like an idiot.

“Oh, oh God! This is Jason? You’re with fucking Red Hood? Oh, my God...OH, MY GOD! This guy is gonna kill me, Dani! He-he has a fucking gun in his hand! I’m gonna fucking die!” the man cries out.

“SHUT YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING MOUTH, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Jason yells from underneath his helmet. The voice changer that’s built into his helmet makes him sound more dark...even demonic. But Jason could care less about anything and everything right now. All he can think about is beating the shit out of this guy. “WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?!”

Danielle runs a hand through her messy long red hair, and sniffles. She’s actually...crying?

“This is Paul-”

“Don’t fucking tell him my name! Jesus Christ! Are you trying to get me killed?!”

Jason aims his gun and shoots near Paul’s head. The loud, piercing sound fills the room. The bullet hits the wall, but nonetheless scares the shit out of Paul.

Paul covers his eyes and cries. “Of fuck...please don’t kill me. Oh God, please don’t...”

Jason removes his helmet in anger and throws it down. His green eyes are already red-rimmed. He won’t admit he’s crying...God no...his allergies must be acting up.

“So, what the fuck, Dani? You’re seriously sleeping with someone else?” Jason asks, rhetorically of course. “In our house...underneath our covers...in our bed?!”

“Jason, please. I-I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Dani says.

“But you wanted me to find out?” Jason snaps, suddenly moves closer to the bed. Paul moves backwards away from him. “You wanted me to find out, but just not this way? JESUS CHRIST, DANI! What the fuck were you thinking?! Why the hell would you do this to me, after everything we’ve fucking been through!”

“Because you weren’t here! You weren’t here tonight!” Dani yells.

“What the hell does that mean? You decided to cheat on me because I WASN’T HERE TONIGHT?!”

Paul slowly stands up with the sheet. “Maybe I should leave...” he mumbles.

“How about I show you the way out, BUDDY?!” Jason spits out. He grabs Paul’s throat and drags him across the bedroom.

“DON’T HURT HIM! PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM, JASON!” Dani cries out.

Jason was seeing red. He couldn’t see or think straight at all. With a huff, Jason slams Paul down to the floor and drops down to beat the fucking shit out of Paul. His fist keeps coming down hard and fast, and he definitely ignores Paul crying, pleading for him to stop. Jason even ignores the sight of a lot of blood and bones cracking underneath his punches.

“STOP IT! JASON, STOP HURTING HIM, PLEASE!” Dani screams in horror, pulling Jason back by grabbing his leather jacket.

When Jason finally stops, he realizes Paul’s face is almost disfigured because of the blood and swelling, but he doesn’t care. At all.

Jason shoves Dani away from him and glares down at Paul. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Paul. You’re not going to open your fucking mouth. You’re not going to tell anyone about my home. You’re not going to tell anyone about me. Your injuries? You’re going to tell everyone you got your pansy, white ass jumped in an alley and that you obviously lost the fight. And you’re going to walk out of here naked. You’re not going to look at Dani, not talk to her, not even think about her, you’re just going leave. NOW.”

“B-but what about my-my clothes?” Paul stutters.

Jason quickly collects all of Paul’s clothes and opens his bedroom window. He pulls out his lighter and lights the clothes on fire. Jason drops them over the railing. “You don’t need them. After fucking my girlfriend in my home and in my bed, you bet your homewrecking sweet ass that you’ll be walking home in nothing but shame and remorse. Now, get the fuck out of my house before I break your legs next.”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir. No one will ever know about this,” Paul rambles on as he struggles to stand up. Once he does, he quickly leaves the bedroom but not before mumbling. “Why couldn’t she date Green Lantern or-or Batman. Wait! Not Batman! Anyone but Batman and Red Hood!”

As the front door slams shut, Jason turns to face his naked girlfriend, Dani. He feels his chest tighten, causing a pain he hasn’t felt since he was a kid and lost his mother and home. He wants to cry in front of her, maybe even scream at her, but all the anger he felt before is gone now. Jason’s only left with a sense of sadness and he doesn’t even know what to do about it.

The silence is killing them. He’s no fool. He can see she’s trying to hold herself together but is failing immensely because she’s looking up at him with those sad, puppy dog eyes.

But a thought quickly crosses his mind: only Y/N’s puppy dog eyes make him give into her. Every time. Y/N’s Y/C/E eyes weakens him, and he always wants to please her when she looks at him.

But Dani’s eyes don’t. There’s no sense of comfort and warmth in them like Y/N’s.

“I’m...I’m so sorry, Jay,” Dani begins.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore,” Jason interrupts angrily. He doesn’t even know why she’s apologizing. He knows he can’t forgive her. He won’t forgive her.

Dani scoffs. “You can’t seriously be pissed off at me. You’ve fucking cheated before. You’ve slept around like Bruce does. You can’t fucking hold this against me! I gave you a chance!”

“You’re forgetting that I used to do that!” Jason yells. He runs a hand through his messy dark hair and growls under his breath. He needs someone to calm him down. He needs someone to tell him everything’s going to be all right. He needs the comfort and warmth only one person has: Y/N. Jason realizes he needs her now more than ever, and that scares him a bit. “I haven’t done any of that shit since we’ve been together. The second I realized that I was in love with you, I changed. I changed because I wanted to be with you! And you bringing up my past to try to justify your actions is fucking wrong, Dani.”

“Cry me a fucking river, Jason,” Dani spits out.

“Nope. Not this time. Get the fuck out of my house.”

Dani doesn’t put up a fight. She gets dressed, packs a bag of her things, and tells Jason she’ll be back for the rest later. She does glance at him one last time before she walks out though.

“The thing is...I needed my boyfriend, not a hero.”

The door slams shut, leaving Jason frozen in place. The silence is deadly; he can feel his thoughts racing and screaming loud in his head.

He needs Y/N.

Jason needs his best friend.

Tears force themselves out his eyes as he calls Y/N.

“Hello?”

Jason pauses, and he wonders if he’s making a mistake. Maybe she won’t come. He hasn’t been a particularly good friend to her lately. “Y/N, I need you. I...need you, please...”

“I’m on my way.”

Jason knew he was in deep shit after he finished off a new bottle of whiskey before Y/N came over. He couldn’t help himself. After he hanged up with her, he ripped off his costume and stripped down to nothing but his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, even after lowering the thermostat to 62 degrees.

Perhaps the end of his real first serious relationship was suffocating him mentally and physically. He’s never lived with a girlfriend before either.

He was about to open a new bottle of whiskey just as the front door opens and closes.

“Jason?” Y/N calls out.

Jason whips around fast and grins. He’s buzzed, but not quite drunk yet. “Y/N!”

Y/N is stunned to see Jason in nothing but his underwear as he runs to her and embraces her hard. She stumbles back a bit, but he captures her easily to steady her and holds her tightly to his chest.

“You’re soaked...and cold,”

“It’s raining outside like it always does,” Y/N giggles and gently pushes Jason back a bit. “Let me take off my coat and get warmed up.”

Jason allows her, watches intently when Y/N takes off her raincoat. She’s wearing her black and red plaid pajama pants and a Metallica t-shirt he’s positive she stole from him. She kicks off her booties and displays her light blue fuzzy socks he adores.

Jason knew Y/N had to have been in bed when he called, but she came anyway. She always comes to him because she’s always there for him.

She’s always been here for me, hasn’t she? Why haven’t I seen it before? He thinks to himself.

Y/N smiles softly and reaches a hand out to Jason. He takes it, almost hypnotized by how he does anything she wants. She leads them to the couch, but not before she sees the pizza box and DVD on the entryway table. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“That...was my failed attempt at romance tonight,” Jason admits sheepishly.

Y/N shakes her head, but still smiles. “It doesn’t have to go to waste. We can eat the pizza and watch the movie, right? I mean...only if you want to, of course,” she says.

“Only with you, sweetheart.”

Y/N releases his hand and quickly grabs the pizza and movie. She meets him in the living room where Jason’s already sitting down. She smiles and puts the DVD on. But before she sits beside him, she heads over to the kitchen. She returns with two cans of soda and napkins.

Jason looks down when her soft, small hand reaches out to him...only to take away the unopened bottle of whiskey. “No more tonight...please.”

He can’t help but nod his head. She’s right, he’s had enough to drink. He can’t numb his feelings and thoughts anymore. That’s why when Jason starts crying, he doesn’t feel embarrassment or anything. Y/N’s seen him at his best and worst; and she’s still here no matter what.

The movie is playing, but they’re not watching it. Jason can’t even hear it. When he looks up to see why, he can only see Y/N looking at him.

She doesn’t ask why he’s crying. Jason knows Y/N’s caring nature is all about comfort and understanding. That’s why he doesn’t move or say anything when she scoots closer to hug him. The second she wraps her arms around his neck, he cries freely. He embraces her; allows her scent of cinnamon and sandalwood calm him down.

Jesus Christ...has she always smelled so good? Fuck...this perfume is making me hard right now. Jason shamelessly thinks to himself.

“It’s okay, Jay. What you’re feeling right now, it’s not forever. You won’t feel like this again anytime soon. I promise,” Y/N whispers. She runs her hand through his hair. “I’ll always be here for you. Always and forever.”

Jason opens his eyes and pulls back to see Y/N. Clarity finally hits him. His heart beats faster when he looks down to her soft lips and back up to those puppy dog eyes, that he loves so much. She looks back at him with the same intensity, he wonders if she recognizes what he’s just realized.

“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” Jason whispers.

Y/N smiles as she runs both her hands up and down Jason’s chest. “It took you long enough to see it,” she answers.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he says, nodding his head in agreement.

“No, no you just made a mistake and now you’re going to give me what we both deserve,” Y/N says softly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jason finally kisses Y/N. He wanted to slam his lips against hers, but he knew she deserved better than that. He takes his time and allows their mouths to move together, so they can really feel each other. But the second Y/N opens her mouth for more, Jason can’t say no and deny her that.

He tastes her as thoroughly as he can, but he wants more. He pulls away and asks her with his eyes. When she nods her head, he gently pushes her back onto the couch and climbs on top of her so their pelvis’ touch appropriately.

“I would take you to my bed, but I have to burn it because it’s seriously fucked up, doll,” Jason says in between his kisses. “Another man’s cum is stained all over my blankets...in case that’s not clear enough, Dani cheated on me.”

Y/N caresses Jason’s cheek and gently smiles at him. He was expecting her to cuss about Dani or get uncomfortable about talking about what happened, but Y/N did neither of those things. Her eyes said it all.

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispers. She leans up a bit to kiss him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jason closes his eyes and sighs. Y/N was here, and she’s not going anywhere. And that’s all his heart needs to move forward.

When he opens his eyes, Y/N sits up a bit to take off her t-shirt. She’s braless. Jason’s sharp intake of breath is evident when he can’t take his emerald, green eyes off her perfect tits. Jason helps her remove her pajama pants, along with her panties and socks.

His cock is painfully hard in his underwear. Seeing Y/N’s naked body underneath his is giving him all sorts of naughty ideas, but he knows what he really needs right now.

Y/N knows, too. She bites her bottom lip and pushes down Jason’s underwear, revealing his hard cock. She briefly takes in how thick his dick is and how delicious the precum is smeared across the head.

“I promise I’ll take my time learning what you taste like and what makes you cum. I just...I just need to feel...” Jason struggles out, but when Y/N touches his chest, he inhales deeply. “I need to feel warm. I need to feel...you.”

Y/N nods and looks deep into Jason’s eyes. “Feel me, Jay. I want you to feel all of me.”

Jason bravely pushes his cock inside Y/N’s pussy. He closes his eyes and breathes hard. She was everything he was hoping for. He loved the way her walls were tight, warm, and wet. He lowers his forehead to hers and he bathes in the way she moans. Jason pulls back a bit to look down at her; he smiles at the way she bites her bottom lip and throws her head back.

“Fuck...Jay move, please,” Y/N moans.

He’s more than thrilled to do her request, especially when she moans out his nickname only she can call him.

Jason moves his hips. His cock shifts in and out of her steadily before he thrusts deeper. Y/N wraps her arms around him and meets his thrusts so his cock can hit her g-spot. Jason was proud at that moment for having a cock shaped well enough to hit Y/N’s g-spot; he desperately wants to make her cum so hard.

“Oh, fuck...you feel so good, princess. Do you like taking my cock like this?” Jason moans out.

Y/N moans and wraps her legs around Jason’s waist. “Y-yes! Your cock is so big. Please go harder. I-I want to cum!” Y/N cries out.

“Fuck yeah, I’ll fuck you harder! I want you to cum with me! I want to feel you cum on this big cock!” he’s panting, he’s giving her everything she wants.

Jason fucks her harder, slams his hips against Y/N’s body. He’s already on the verge of cumming, but he can’t help it. Y/N’s moans are affecting him. Her tight heat is hitting him harder than ever. He knows this’ll be over any second, but he promised her he’ll take his time when they do it again...maybe for round two tonight.

He lowers a hand to rub her engorged clit as he thrusts faster. He’s so close. He’s so close to a hot release and he wants her to cum with him.

“Cum with me, princess. I want to feel you cum so hard,” Jason pants out, his thrusts are crazy and uneven.

Y/N raises her hips so Jason thrusts five times to make her orgasm. She cries out his name. She cums hard and all over his cock. Her walls tighten around him, and she’s sure her body goes into shock. When Y/N looks up with lustful, hazy eyes, she sees Jason’s face contorted in amazement at her.

More than satisfied, Y/N pinches her own nipples and bites her bottom lip. She wants Jason to cum now.

“Cum in me, Jay. Fill me up with your hot, delicious cum. Mmm...I can’t wait to taste it. I want to suck your big, hard cock next,” Y/N says seductively.

Jason’s face adorably scrunches up as his release hits him. He thrusts a few more times, cumming hard like she did, spurting every drop of his cum inside her. His moans drive her wild. He breathes heavily and continues to ride out his orgasm until he has nothing left to spill inside.

He pulls out and drops beside her, but quickly holds her so she doesn’t fall off the couch.

Because just imagine getting a concussion after having an orgasm.

Y/N hums in the afterglow of sex with Jason. She rests her head on his chest as he rubs her back. He kisses her forehead softly. He feels more than okay now but knows there will be plenty to talk about after the sexy haze fades.

Thoughts of living in the countryside flash into his mind. Watching that sunrise, with Y/N’s in his arms, and she’s carrying their child in her womb.

That perfect life appears real now. His dream doesn’t seem impossible to achieve. With Y/N there, everything seems possible.

“Are you okay now?” Y/N asks softly.

Jason grins and looks down at her. He doesn’t quite know what to say but figures he should try.

“With you in my arms, I’m fucking perfect, princess.”

[extravaguk]

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m 

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 

But apparently, you did. 

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 

"Let me take you on a date." 

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 

"N-no!" 

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: fuckin' angst, arguing, alcohol.

Word count: 3,3K

2

“This is just where I draw the line, you know?”, you said to Bucky over your fifth drink. He was still sipping from that goddamn bottle of beer, as if one more drink would make him talk more. You appreciated his silence, but sometimes he was just unnecessarily quiet. You needed a friend to bitch about your in-laws and he kept staring, and staring, and —fucking staring like a mannequin. If he wouldn’t stare so much, you would even say he was shy. “I can’t believe they actually will reject me over not being a good companion for the King because I wouldn’t carry his child. Do you understand how obscenely sexist and, just… plain gross, that is?”.

“He is a prince, after all”.

“They just don’t like me. They raised Loki making him think he’ll be King, then they stripped it away, and now they did just the same and blame it on a stupid reason like I wouldn’t want to have kids. It’s idiotic, right? Besides, I’ll live much less than him. He could just be with me a while, then I die and then he gets someone else who would want his kids. It’s not that hard”.

“Damn”, he muttered. “You do have a lot to say about them, don’t you?”.

“You’re supposed to be my friend here”.

“I thought Tony Stark played that role for you”, he chuckled. “He’s all about playing roles, isn’t he? The hero, the playboy, the genius… I wonder what of them all he really is”.

“Oh, so you do have opinions”.

“Fuck you”.

“No thanks, I don’t like me that much”.

He laughed loudly. In comparison to every laugh and chuckle you’ve managed to pull out of him so far, this one was the loudest. You laughed with him. He had a very contagious smile.

“A kid is… too much. When you’re fucked up, you fuck up the kid too. When you don’t want one and have one anyway, the kid senses it. They’re sponges, you know?”, he said, asking the bartender for another round with a hand gesture.

“To be friends with Steve ‘Language’ Rogers, you curse a lot”, you chuckled, and he downed the drink in a few gulps, trying to catch up with your drunken state. “But yes, exactly. It’s not only that I think I’m fucked up, because that’s not the only thing that would stop me. I would have kids and work through not being a shit parent, if I wanted to”.

“But you don’t want to. That’s the point”.

“Yeah. And I’m not sure Loki doesn’t want one either. He joins kids that play in the park and lets them toy with his many different animal forms. He loves playing with babies, most of all. He is an innate dad, and I’m… not. And I feel like I’m depriving him of too much. The throne, the kids… He… he deserves better”, your eyes started watering, and Bucky frowned, awkwardly placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey… sometimes things just aren’t meant to be. It’s not that you’re a bad partner. You’re great, for what we all see”, he tried to help you feel better. “It’s just that maybe you’re not meant to be with him. Maybe you need someone who wants the same things that you want”.

“I don’t want anyone other than Loki”, you assured him. He nodded, his eyes still fixed on you as if taking them off would lose your interest. “I’m the problem, I’ll always be”.

“No, you are not”, said the knowingly deep voice that pulled you off your insecurities and brought immediate light to your eyes.

“My Loki!”, you greeted him, cheeks hotter and your hair—so sticky, was it always this sticky?

“My love”, he smiled fondly.

“My fucking God”, Bucky rolled his eyes. Loki didn’t pay any mind to him.

“Come on, little darling. Let’s get you some rest”, he said, placing a hand in the nape of your neck, caressing your skin softly. You got up, and just then realized how drunk you were. All the blood from your body went straight to your head, and grabbed him to not fall down. “How much did they drink?”, he asked Bucky.

Bucky raised his shoulders and pressed his lips in a line.

“A bunch”.

Loki sighed and thanked him for keeping you safe. You walked together from the bar to the parking lot. The lights of the city brimmed over the wet pavement —it had just rained. Shame you were so focused on getting drunk, you would’ve loved to stay under the fat drops.

“How long have you been listening?”, you asked as he clicked your seatbelt on. He sighed and curved his lips in a smile you knew he only used when he lied.

“Not more than the last few words”.

He had obviously listened to it all.

“I’m sorry I keep bitching about it. You really do deserve better”.

“Nonsense. If I wanted kids I would be with someone who wanted them”, he lied again. Was it love, this constant lie? Love sometimes was about keeping your thoughts for yourself. In this case, you weren’t so sure it was. Love wasn’t keeping him from the throne, from kids, from a future he wanted to have. “The only thing I want…”, he started, knowing you would finish the answer.

“...is me, right”, you chuckled. “Can I drive?”.

“Definitely not”.

“Yeah, probably for the best”.

You chuckled, your cheeks reddening at everything and anything. You felt your whole body warm, and wanted more than anything for Loki to place one of his long hands on your thigh —that hot thing he did where he drove with one hand, eyes on the road and half a smirk to your side. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink.

“The thing is, Loki”, you kept talking and he sighed. He didn’t want to listen to you like this. He knew you’d say things you didn’t want him to hear. You never were the kind of drunk that slurred on their words and couldn’t walk straight. You just lacked filters. And you had so, so many filters when sober, that Loki felt like an invasion to listen to you like this. “I know you enough, and I’m afraid you’ll…”.

“Look, love”, he interrupted you, pointing somewhere through the windshield. “That’s your favourite iced yogurt shop, is it not? I’ll get you some, you just wait here in the car, alright?”.

You smiled, looking down to your feet. He got out of the car and in a matter of minutes came back with a package. He drove in silence back home and you didn’t say anything else, understanding the motives behind the iced yogurt stop.

Love was somewhere around listening and not listening. You were too drunk to even think about it now.

You could see it in him. That lit off glitter in his eyes —he could have all of that sweet power he always longed for in the tip of his fingers and he got it stripped away. You could see the grief—no, the anger, the insomnia. Whatever his mother told him, it fucked him up for a whole week, if not more. Maybe he just learnt to hide it better after seven days.

You’d cuddle him to sleep, and when you woke up in the middle of the night because your feet were cold, or your mouth was dry, or your bed felt lonely, he wasn’t there. He left in the middle of the night to be somewhere else, and you couldn’t bring yourself to even ask.

You wandered around the apartment after the first three nights. Looking for him to find it emptier than ever. He wasn’t in any other part of the compound. Not in the common kitchen, the common room, the common anything. Not in his brother’s room, and you didn’t even have to check, but he certainly wasn’t in any other room. He wouldn’t, right?

You went back to bed with a feeling of unease. You didn’t call anyone, didn’t say anyone your lover wasn’t there, because you hoped he’d be there in the morning.

You couldn’t close your eyes until the door opened slowly and Loki sneaked his way back to bed, not realizing you were awake. You pretended to be still asleep, without a clue of his night trip to God knows where. He got undressed. He unfolded the sheets and blankets and wrapped himself around you, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder. His body was cold —so much colder than usual. Externally cold, as if he would’ve been somewhere not even his Jötun skin could keep up with. You sighed in relief, but not so much.

You needed to know if he was wounded. You pretended to turn around in your sleep and passed your hands through his bare chest, as if you were greeting him half asleep. He didn’t seem to realize you were wide awake.

No wounds. Good.

Still cold.

You couldn’t figure it out, and groaned. Loki gasped ever so slightly, and then sighed.

“Awake?”.

You opened your eyes, defeated. His eyes didn’t show guilt. They reflected an emptiness, a treasure that he seemed to have found and lost at the very same hour. Whatever kept him up at night, he went looking for it and now it was gone—and he was disappointed in himself for that. He looked disappointed.

“Where do you go when you leave?”, you whispered. You weren’t accusing him, and he knew. You wanted to know. Not demanding, just asking. If he didn’t want to tell you, you would’ve accepted it. Should you? You would. You felt powerless in these situations, now that he had given everything up for you. You shouldn’t.

He rolled off the bed and sat on his feet, looking down. Only the blue shine of the moon illuminated his features, his body, his sore muscles from all the fighting he has gotten involved into lately —missions, more and more training, verbal fights with everyone and himself included, except you—you were always his exception. Was that a good thing, now? It was. You were sure it was.

“Jötunheim”, he said. The word weighed on his tongue, and he clenched his jaw right after saying it. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I might have ruined everything”.

“What do you mean?”.

“I… I really hope nobody notices. I really hope… Heimdall keeps it to himself. I’ve been rejected, and now the war is all against me. I hope only me”, he muttered, his gaze drifting off everywhere and anywhere. “I hope only me. If I brought you too into this… oh, no”.

“What do you mean, love?”, you asked quietly, firm eye contact on him, grabbing both his arms with so little space left between you. Such a nice comparison with the arm-length grab that still resonated on his shoulders. “What happened?”.

What happened? you asked him, and he thought that’s such a pure and raw form you showed his love to him. You weren’t asking what have you done even if he left all hints that he did wrong. You wouldn’t accuse him of wronging anything or anyone unless he himself would hand you the hard evidence proving that he was wrong. Was that love? Or blindness?

No, you weren’t blind. You understood he was wronging something. You noticed every quirk of his lips and eyebrows when he lied—and you ignored it. You acknowledged every bad he ever did to anyone—and also acknowledged his apologies. You weren’t blind, you didn’t see past it. You saw so much through it, that you understood his motives. And, for you, his motives were always enough.

That, right there, was love, Loki thought.

He was exhausted. All he had to do in there, did it hiding from Heimdall’s eye. And that form of magic left him drained as ever. He was tired from the fights and the bargains, from hiding, from showing himself too much, from having to do so many things and getting none done. He laid on bed and put his head over your abdomen. You caressed a few strands of his almost frozen raven locks, wet with melted snow. His hand trembled ever so slightly.

“Let us sleep and I'll tell you in the morning, alright?”.

When you woke up that next morning, the bed was empty again. But your heart relaxed as soon as you heard the kettle boiling on the small kitchen, a knife hitting against a plate —the sound of the fruit being cut, the bread getting toasted flying over the fire of the stovetop.

You got on your feet and walked there, lingering in the way in. He was barely dressed—a black boxer, that one with the grey lines that made his ass look amazing, a cotton sweater with a lit off tone of blue that made his eyes glow. His hair in a messy low bun that hardly got the curled hairs that fell shamelessly over his face.

He moved his hand and the toasts flew to a plate, right by the fruit. He served the water carefully on the teapot and just as he left it over the countertop again, you reached for his waist and planted a kiss on the nape of his neck.

“Morning, dear”.

“Morning, sweet”.

And there it was—that silence again. It lasted all breakfast, except for the innocuous what will you do today and his voice reading the papers out loud. He didn’t say what he did in Jötunheim but he seemed to remember it vividly. That emptiness in his eyes was now filled with terror. You remember him being terrified at the mention of one name, and one name only. And you were afraid the Mad Titan had something to do with it —once again.

He closed the paper over the table and looked at you fondly. Smiled softly, and grabbed your hands, drawing small circles with his thumbs. A halo of green lights surrounded you two, and you understood he was now hiding from Heimdall, again. He took in a gulp of air and got ready.

“I went to Jötunheim to claim my throne”.

You nodded, unable to hide surprise in your expressions. With raised eyebrows, your lips parted to form a,

“Oh?”.

“I had to take the chance. I messed up”.

“Why?”.

“I got rejected”.

That didn’t seem like it. He never got rejected in these things. He got defeated. He bargained with words and threats and what not more, with all the things he knew how to bargain in these situations, sharp as a knife, sharp as only he could be. He was terrified, of what? What stopped him in place? What froze the frost giant?

“What are you scared of?”, you asked in a whisper.

“They might take something or someone away”.

Freedom. He was scared of getting locked up again. He was scared of getting you away from him. He was scared of a million other things that seemed irrelevant in the face of those two options.

“They can’t lock you up, my love, you’ve done nothing wrong”.

“It’s treason to the crown”.

“Oh”, you nodded. “How would they find out? How are you hiding it?”.

“I spared my share of threats, enough for Laufey’s predecessors to not say a word”, he said lamely, “if they were wiser than they are. They’re a sack of oafs”.

“Alright”, you said, looking out the window. “Seems like there’s not much else for you to do, other than worry”. He sighed and came back to drawing circles in the back of your hands. “Join me on a mission, take your head off these matters”.

He smiled, and kissed your knuckles.

"We'll see".

“You’re being so stubborn”, you sighed, sitting on the couch. “We’ve talked about this over, and over, and over”.

“We talked about things over and over and not even once you have been completely honest”, he said, with that composed facade of him. “Not in this, not in anything”.

“I’m the one not being honest here, now?”, you inquired, looking up at him. He was standing in front of you. He frowned.

“What does that even mean? I’m always honest with you”.

“You’re either dishonest with me or with yourself. But we both know very well that you have no intention of…”.

“Oh, Norns. Again with that”.

“You brought it up”.

“I’m listening, then. Will you finally tell me what you actually think of it? Or will you melt your desires and adjust them until they solidify around whatever you think might please me?”, he spat with sarcasm.

“What are you even complaining about with that?”.

“I want you to be true to yourself, not some… Not some…”, he gestured with his hands, and you furrowed your brows.

“Not some what?”.

“Not some idiotic worshipper of some kind. You sound like a teen with a crush, rather than an adult partner building something here”, he said, and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. You got up from the couch.

“That’s what you truly think of me?”, you tried to keep your voice down. Anyone could hear you from the hallway. You tried —but you weren’t very successful. “I’m ready to give everything up for you and you think of it as a desperate attempt to worship you? You really think I think of yourself as a God who casually decided to be with me?”.

“No, that’s not…”, he rolled his eyes, but you kept talking.

“We worked so well together because we knew exactly what the other wanted and tried to get there without crushing the other one. And now…”.

“Worked?”, he scoffed. “We work. We might argue some time, but we work, my love. And that’s the point. We just have to find a way out of this mess, that wouldn’t get us even deeper in this disaster”.

You looked at him, looking for any trace of a lie. He wasn’t. He was truly calm, even though he had gotten on your nerves so well. He could have the same calmness to tell you how much he loved you and to tell you you were crushing his dreams with your thumb.

“I get what you say. I really do. But, is it really important to do whatever you’re thinking of doing to solve this? Or is this just your general… power thirsty blindness guiding you through?”.

He scoffed.

“Power thirsty blindness”, he repeated, incredulous. “I thought you understood every motive behind my actions”.

“I do. But you can’t deny half of the motives are wanting to rule the realms”.

“Half of the motives are you”, he raised his voice.

“That’s not true”, you matched his tone. “You’re playing a weird limbo where you say you’re giving up every dream you’ve ever had for me, letting the guilt eat me alive, and then just… going off somewhere to still try and get what you want. That’s not a relationship-guided motive. And it’d be okay if you could just come to terms with it. And then, and only then, we’d be able to talk through it better and find a better way to make it work. But so far, you haven’t been honest at all about it”.

“Why the need of being honest if you can apparently read me like a children's book?”, he said sarcastically. “Oh, and don’t even get me started with honesty, because…”.

“Because what?”.

He took a deep breath and composed himself back again, denying with his head, eyes closed as he figured out the right words or the right actions. He sat on the couch and asked you to sit by his side with a hand gesture.

“You know what? I think we’re really, really tired. This argument is getting nowhere and we’ll just feel bad afterwards. Can we talk about this in a more civilized way after we get some rest?”.

You sighed and sat by his side, still tense.

“Yes. Alright”.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove)

[xxsmokeyy]

Levi x Drug Dealer! Reader (F) The Lunatic And Her Dog

genre: smut, canonverse — Levi’s early recruitment

summary: being a former thug, the new soldier is given a task to ingratiate himself, finding an old associate from his past along the way.

tw: vices (drugs, cigarettes), rough sex

wc: 12,039 holy fuck (smut is only latter half)

“Coderoin. A strong, sweet, and highly addictive drug that’s been circulating in Stohess District for about four years or so,” the Commander says, voice gruff as he explains the content of the unwrapped paper filled with azure tablets.

Coderoin. Levi thinks he’s heard of that thing not long before. He just can’t quite put his finger on it.

“The Military Police Brigade failed to capture the primary smuggler of this substance multiple times, and it’s only recently come to their notice that it’s gotten reformulated to a liquid solution,” he continues, pinching one of them in his fingers, rolling it back and forth to study its appearance.

Levi can only stand back in ennui, the lack of interest reverberating from his aura. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that information?

Erwin places the tablet back to the paper, propping his palms on the tabletop, and stares deep into Levi’s unamused eyes.

“You’ll have to hunt this drug dealer down.” The curt order comes. Levi cocks a brow in confusion, wondering why the blond would make him do such thing.

“That’s the MP’s job. I thought I joined here to kill those filthy titans, what are you going on about?” he quizzes in confusion.

Erwin sighs, lids shutting close before he massages his temples. “The higher-ups are still not exactly in favor of your recruitment in the army, and as much as you hate buttering people up, you’ll have to deal with this case to secure your postion,” he makes intelligible, getting into the details so to clarify things out.

The raven haired man before him listens intently with a permanent scowl on his face, arms crossed over each other. He’s most definitely not liking the idea of seeking those damn swines’ goodwill. Just when he decided to trust the guy.

“You’ll earn Darius Zackly’s approval once you catch the little felon,” Erwin speaks truthfully. Of course, the Supreme Commander who so hates him, of all people. “It’s just this once. Trust me, you’ll have no more problems with your stay if you solve this case,” he even adds to convince the man. Not that there’s any way around this matter. Levi has to do this to prevent further threats in his position and to clear his reputation as well, by hook or by crook.

“You basically want me to suck up their asses,” he concludes, not a question, more of a full decisive statement. The Commander grunts his affirmative response, still getting used of his soldier’s sharp tongue.

“Tch. To hell with that.”

—

The afternoon later, he’s walking on the stony pavements of Stohess District, left with no choice but to follow the Commander’s orders.

Ever since the death of his last friends, Farlan and Isabel, just a few weeks back, things have gotten ridiculously out of hand regarding his enlistment. It almost arrived to a point where he’s wanted in court for seniors to debate whether he can stay up top or should be sent back to the Underground, considering his heavy crimes.

Holding a poster in hand, he studies the illustration keenly. It says the words WANTED: Notorious Drug Lord in big, thick, and bold letters. In the sketched picture is a person wearing a hood. From what he’s told, the wanted criminal has been in the hide for years now, but never once left the district.

“That man never shows himself. That portrait is from a witness in a pub near a shanty town. Some say he often appears wearing a cloak.” That’s what a Military Police officer said to him when he asked for the dealer’s whereabouts.

A man? He squints a little to see the image better.

It’s a bit difficult to determine since it’s only a roughly sketched side profile with a hood worn, blocking the hair, but he’s sure as hell those are certainly not eyes of a man, looking ultimately feminine and provocative. He doesn’t know, but those eyes are somewhat achingly familiar. And those plump lips that held a suggestive smile? He’s fully convinced that it’s a woman.

“A woman? That’s in no way a fair lady. Women here in Stohess stay at home and polish their husbands’ boots.” That’s what the Military Police officer said as well when he told it’s a woman.

Fucking sexists. Not that he cares, though.

Levi stops by the said pub, pushing on the saloon doors before walking to a table of three men, boisterously laughing like crazy. It’s dark and warm inside, the trademark ambience of local bars eating up the whole place. “Any of you seen this guy?” he lazily asks, showing the piece of paper to their faces.

Their eyes dart on the illustration before all of them fall silent, throwing looks at each other, and Levi can swear he could hear the rusty gears in their pea sized brain turn.

When they keep quiet, he almost surmises they turned mute upon seeing him and is about to leave them alone, finding them completely useless. He just wants to finish this task, and quick.

“Heard ya were a nasty criminal in the Underground,” the guy on his left comments and drinks the beer at hand, briefly pausing, “ya can’t seriously be turnin’ y’er back on that kinda past,” he smugly continues.

Levi’s brows twitch in irritation. How is that relevant to what he asked?

“Just answer the damn question,” he orders assertively and slams the paper onto their tabletop. The guys exchange gazes once again like it’s some sort of stupid inside code.

“What makes ya think ya can fool us? We know you’ll arrest us off the bat if we answer, young’un,” the man continues, his company still speechless. What, is he the leader of their pack or something?

The way they stare him down with the most condescending eyes is ticking him off to ridiculous measures, he could’ve knocked them out cold one by one already if not for the fact that they obviously know something, and nobody else is in the pub other than them and the staff.

“I don’t give two shits about your work. I’m not asking for you, I’m looking for this guy right here,” he jabs a finger into the poster, causing every one of them to look at it once more.

“I ain’t convinced—”

Levi has had enough of their refusal and decides to pull out his knife, kick the very chair the garrulous man is sitting on to drop him on the ground, beer spilling everywhere, before using the dirty sole of his boot to shove the man’s cheeks against the wooden floor.

He kneels down on his right knee, his other foot still stepping on the man’s face, and points the tip of his freshly sharpened knife just a few centimeters from his eyeball, which earns him a whimper of surprise.

“Gonna stop yakking any minute now?” Levi asks. It’s a bit surprising to him that the bartender of the pub didn’t meddle the whole time for pressing on his customers, oddly similar to the lukewarm nature of his hometown.

The two men freeze in fear, afraid that if they do anything to counter the soldier’s menace, their good friend might suffer and go blind. How worthless.

After a couple more seconds, the old geezer eventually gives in and speaks. “That’s our dealer,” he admits, voice weak and shaky. Levi cocks a brow and listens, finally getting the information he‘s aiming for.

“Guy’s been selling drugs that originated from the Underground,” he adds.

“Coderoin?”

“Yeah. He never shows up to us buyers, only sends brokers to deliver.”

“That’s not a man,” Levi corrects again, slowly getting convinced it’s someone he knows from way back. The descriptions about the wanted dealer and the way she arranges things precisely match, not to mention the poster looking exactly like her.

“I told you I won’t end up in brothels, Levi. I created something, and it’s doing great,” she says with a proud smile painted on her colored lips.

“What is it?”

“Coderoin.”

But the soldier only sounds out of his tree in the listeners’ ears, and they immediately speak to nullify his scarcely credible conspiracy theory. “There’s no way. Women here in Stohess—”

Yeah, he gets it. If they don’t believe it then let it be. See, this is why they haven’t caught the culprit for the past years, because they’re looking for a damn male.

“Where was she last seen?” Levi asks, completely dismissing their words, but the guy tries to oppose the small detail once again. “That’s a man—“

“Where was she last seen?” he repeats, cutting off his hostage’s words while he flattens with his boot the man’s cheeks in such a way as to crush his skull, emphasizing what really is important here and what he’s actually asking for. Levi ignores how the poor guy yelps in pain, waiting for intel he can benefit from.

“I don’t know!” he truthfully says, face already deforming from the forceful contact, having difficulty breathing.

“She lives at the skid row,” the bartender chimes in as he wipes on a glass, turning Levi’s head his way. Someone who knows her real identity, huh?

“How do you know?” he keeps his foot down and quizzes, looking for the authenticity in his words. The runt might be fooling him for all he knows, a trap to lure him in.

“I live there,” he simply says. “I don’t have business with her so it won’t be bad if I rat out on her,” he shrugs and turns his back to return to working. The guys listen, puzzled about what they’re talking about.

The ravenhead thinks for a moment, then rising to this heels, kicking away the head he was previously pulverizing before heading out the bar to make off.

In the end, none of them was substantial but the barkeep. And in Levi’s humblest opinion, the guy whom he mostly talked to should drop his so-called friends who didn’t even have the guts to drag their pal out of his plight, being one who gets rid of ineffective people himself.

He looks up at the gloomy afternoon skies once he exits, the clouds moving as he thinks about a variety of stuffs from his past. Envisioning and etching into his brain the familiar silky locks, rose red lips, and a pair of sultry eyes, he then starts walking.

Now, to find you.

—

With the help of the villagers’ directions, he’s arrived at the said skid row by foot. It surprises Levi a lot, having not expected to see a number of resemblances between the Underground and the surface. The visible corruption is no different from down there, with certain rundown areas openly exposed, just a couple blocks away from extravagant neighborhoods. That just goes to show that people’s amoral natures don’t change wherever they go.

He scans his eyes around, studying the dark and uninviting alleyways, the narrow paths, and the compressed townhouses. It’s almost as if the sun refuses to shine here.

This place isn’t any less than a junkyard, he thinks, coming from someone who has just escaped from one.

He takes a step forward to head to the flat where you apparently reside, only to get stopped by a bunch of gangsters, another guy putting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. An animal touching him with filthy fingers, something he hates the most.

“Where do you think you’re going, kid?” the insect says as he looks down on the soldier’s short stature, showing not a droplet of respect. “What’s a scout soldier doing here? There ain’t no titans here, boy!” There’s nothing they love to ridicule more than suicidal people under the disguise of a uniform.

He immediately uses his clean hands that would unfortunately be dirtied as he removes the assaulter’s arm away from him, squeezing it with great force before twisting the whole limb around with full intentions to dislocate it.

The man screeching in pain, Levi gives him a good kick in the face, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious. Of course, there’s three more left standing. Even if they’re rendered speechless and horrified, he still can’t let bothersome runts on the loose.

One of the delinquents attempts to swing a fist at him, a sorry excuse for a punch by the way, only to get hit right in the guts, disgusting spit flying everywhere. The other tries to slash a knife, which he only snatches away with nimble fingers before hitting a nerve on the neck to knock the guy out cold.

The last one, hairline already receding and looking grey, tries to hit him with a bat. It’s a pitiful sight to look at, really, how they all think they could give him a good beating when they approached him. He crouches down to dodge the weapon, dragging his dominant leg on the floor to kick sweep the old fart off of his toes, head falling against the solid concrete.

Dusting his hands to rid himself of the muck he gained from fighting them, Levi stands upright in vexation and observes as they either squirm or doze off on their own. A flock of vagrants that has got to learn how to keep their hands to themselves.

The thing is, he has had enough of drunkards trying to get on his way. He just wants to get his job done, bring you to those impotent MP’s and get this reputation Erwin kept saying to secure his position for a lifetime.

When finally sets foot on your alleged doorstep, he tries for three knocks, waiting for a response. As much as he wants to finish this task, he doesn’t want to barge in your suite, if possible, because he’d also hate it if it’s done to him. He tries again, focusing to catch with his ears any faint sound.

Minutes pass by and he turns the knob open to find out it’s unlocked the whole time, all his deliberations of keeping still and going down the drain.

It’s quiet and empty.

Levi freely enters, keeping an eye out for attackers, if there are. It’s small, but enough for one person.

He goes with the assumption that you live alone, and maybe don’t have any flings. He still remembers how you latch onto different guys back in the day to have them arrange deals for you. Yeah, you had a way with your words, especially towards men. The epitome of a social butterfly.

But maybe it’s not like that anymore, now that you’re in a city like this with rich people out and about.

How did you wind up here in the first place?

He keenly observes as he goes further in. To your credit, the place is relatively clean. No scattered trash, no messy clothing, and the furniture are well organized. Well, that’d be essential to make an innocent front and hide your junk evidence. But still, impressive.

Nothing really seems malicious at first glance. So far, no one’s coming out, and there are no drugs to be found.

He stumbles upon two more closed doors. He finds that one of them is a bathroom, and the other your bedroom. Aside from those, there’s nowhere else to go. He enters your personal space, looking for something peculiar.

Your bed is fixed, sheets folded nicely. You had a study desk, and a bookshelf. Based from the covers’ titles, they’re all about science. Tch. It’s a dead giveaway. No matter how much you tried to make an oh-so normal living space, those books would be a suspicious lead.

Now what? You’re nowhere to be seen.

Is she home?

He looks around the room looking for an ashtray or even a fire because somehow, it reeks of burning cigarettes, like it’s being consumed at the moment.

Something finally clicks inside of him. Of course, you’re a damn drug lord. An infamous one, at that. You’ll need someplace to hide once all hell breaks loose, and someplace to hide your stuff.

Levi uses his boot to lift the carpet he’s currently stepping on, and finds, just what he expects, a trapdoor. Clever, but not too much.

He then vigorously kicks the door open, which nearly bursts it off of its hinges, if not already. It swings down loosely, losing its assistive joints. He ignores the wooden ladder provided and instead jumps down, dropping on his knees.

“Now you gotta fix that,” says a soft and seductive voice that is definitely no stranger the young man.

Levi raises his gaze and finally finds you, sitting on a chair in the opposite end of a long presidential table, smoking a mint cigarette, and the stench reaches his nostrils. That’s where the ashy pong was coming from.

The secret chambers appear almost pit black from the lack of natural light if not for the candle sconces built on the walls all around, and the lone lantern situated on the table.

He scrutinizes you for a moment, meeting your luscious, glowing eyes. Your hair is styled just the way he remembers, luxuriant, untied, and flowing in sync with your movements. Your plump lips shaded red, fierce like how you want it. Your figure voluptuous by your feminine puff sleeved dress, black front laced corset over top hugging at your curves. For a dress so dainty, you ultimately still looked provocative.

Actually, he kind of understands how it’s unbelievable for such a lady to be a criminal of ill repute. Although nothing much has changed with you external-wise, your youthful attributes have only matured beautifully, and you’ve indeed grown up to be an enchanting woman.

“It’s me. You’ve found me,” you claim, feeling his strong stare burning into your skin. What, does he not recognize you now?

It’s totally the other way round. Every single one of your physical features under the warm candlelight’s reflection keeps rekindling memories inside his head, some just flat out inappropriate.

“So you are the goddamn drug dealer,” he states, not any less than a confirmation.

“Drug dealer is a bit brusque, don’t you think?” you comment with a smile. Anything but to be called a drug dealer. How cheap.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I prefer to go with narco hustler, rolls off the tongue just right,” you suggest. It sounds plain dumb to Levi’s ears, you had zero taste. “Okay, maybe it doesn’t,” you take back upon seeing his seriously bored expression. He has always been one so hard to read, but now he just looks evidently repulsed.

Levi stays standing across of you, resting his arm on top of the other, and leans back against the ladder. Maintaining respective distance, he decides to linger for a bit, intrigued by what stories you must got.

“Rumor has it you’re one of them now. Guess it’s true,” you posite as you observe his physique, wearing a uniform jacket with the wings of “freedom”. Couldn’t he have joined the MP’s out of the three? Lame.

The young man watches back as you lift your wrist up and bring the stick to your delicate lips, inhaling a lungful before blowing the smoke upwards, and he could easily feel how you held yourself up with superiority. Nothing new with the headstrong woman that you are.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” he inquires right away, genuinely curious of your sudden disappearance years ago. He knew full well you weren’t dead, but he never got his hands on news about you.

“Huh? What the fuck are you doing up here, too? You surely downgraded from being a crime boss to a pongo’s dog. Seriously?” you retort cheekily. Last time you checked, he was doing well with his gang, couldn’t he have stayed that way?

He massages the temples of his forehead with closed eyes. Your words are making him think back to his decisions, but not too deeply. He reluctantly contemplates if it’s alright telling you things, but chooses to do so. You had a spot in his life, too, no matter how small. And he’s going to arrest you anyway.

“Lot of complications. It was all supposed to be a job to kill the Section Commander then we’d get granted citizenship…” he trails off, unsure of whether to go on or stop there, “but things took a turn.”

“Hmm?” you hum, waiting for his continuation.

He stays silent and refuses to say a word.

“Alright then. Well what about… who was it? Farlan and Isabel?” you ask cluelessly, thinking if you got their names right.

He sighs. It was exactly what he was trying to avoid. “They’re in the Survey Corps now as well?” you quiz, partially interested. You already know the answer. Who would leave their beloved boss? You just know for sure it won’t be them.

“They’re gone,” he averts his gaze, expertly hiding his emotions away with thick pride.

Your eyes largen a little in realization. “Oh. Sorry.” He catches you put out your cigarette by prodding its cherry into the glass ashtray. There’s still about half left but you paid no extra mind, and it says a lot about your well heeled state.

Enough about him. “What exactly happened to you?” Levi questions, and you prop your elbows on the tabletop, interlacing your fingers together before resting your chin on them.

“Bought citizenship,” you start off, never taking your glance off him. He‘s hot all right, still a sight for sore eyes. Heavily improved, even. It has been five years, after all. You admit, he aged like the finest wine there is.

“A pain in the pockets, yes. But worth it.” You pucker your lips and furrow your brows together upon remembering your old situations.

“Underground folks were becoming cheapskates day by day! Can you believe it? They’re trying to buy two-fifty for, what, five bronze coins? My stuff are as expensive as your maneuvering gear, you know!” you complain, memories of being wrongly paid years ago flashing through your brain.

That’s life. At least you’re well off now. That’s what’s important.

He rakes his eyes around the room and finds stacks and stacks of packaged tablets, same ones as those Erwin showed him.

“Coderoin, huh?” he comments, testing the word on his tongue. Nothing special with the name, probably came from the scientific components. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass.

The warm temperature from the window restricted room urges him to remove his jacket, and so he eventually does. You try not to raise both your eyebrows in captivation as you see the outlines of his muscular torso tracing through his clothes, his veiny forearms exposed by his cuffed shirt.

“I haven’t released it yet, but I just finished formulating a liquified version to easily shoot it up the veins for a more elongated and ecstatic experience,” you proudly brag to divert your attention as well, and Levi cocks a brow in confusion. Haven’t released it yet?

“The MP’s already know there’s a new formula,” he informs, recalling what the Commander said when he was educating him about it earlier.

“What? Already?” you ask, gasping in surprise. It’s a given that word spreads around here fast, but you’re doing your best to work in confidentiality. Some big-mouthed brokers of yours must be babbling.

“Yeah.”

“See how famous I am?” You giggle, letting the issue slide.

“Everyone thinks you’re a man.”

“What?” you ask again, completely scandalized, eyes widening in repulsion. They cannot be serious. You never knew that! Not even your associates told you!

It’s a bit amusing to him how that almost looks like it matters to you the most. Do you even know why he’s here? You don’t seem to be questioning his out of nowhere presence.

“You’re a drug abuser. It’s natural for people to think that way,” he says, eyeing your reactions.

“That’s mean! I’m not an addict. In fact, I don’t even do those often,” you oppose a matter-of-factly. It’s not half a lie, you probably had one the past week, but aside from that, you never took it recently. This stuff is for the customers to abuse. You don’t really have an avid addiction to it.

Honestly speaking, being one for dirty felonies ending just a couple months back, he couldn’t care less what kind of profession you had, as long as people find their own way to live, he’d immediately—but only mentally—give kudos to them. It’s hard enough trying to survive in a corrupt system.

You lived all by yourself back then. You were a tough and independent one, he’d give you that. You helped him with particular deals. Important ones.

In actuality, it’s solely because of you that he got his hands on certain armaments like the ODMG. It was hard to obtain those, seeing as it’s a highly illegal trade and costs an arm and a leg. Though on the plus side, it made his stealings more convenient and less a pain in the ass.

But he wouldn’t say you’re good friends, nor are you on the same gang. Associates, he would say. At times, something even more than associates. Oh, it’s not anything close to romantic. Just something beneficial on both sides.

“I mean at least I’m not a squaddie now, playing soldier like you,” you add, playfully mocking him. Levi throws you a glare of the same energy. It’s not like he wanted this. He’s got no choice, it’s better than going back to that sunken town, alone at that matter.

“You don’t show up to people here,” he surmises from what he learned. As you rise to your feet and walk to the piles of boxes, you fail to notice how he gives your form a runover, from head to toe, his eyes involuntarily staying on some shapely areas.

“This is where I bring my brokers. I’m not going face-to-face with my dear buyers now. What if they sell out on me? Can’t trust people nowadays.” It’s true, because back there, everyone was a criminal in their own ways. You grab a small bag of the tablets and turn around to show him, dangling it mid-air.

“But I’m telling you, people here are as generous as lords. It’s basically easy money everyday,” you say and throw him the drawstring bag, which he catches with one hand in maximum proficiency, the action causing his arms to flex a little. Oh, those muscles. Suave.

“You’re living in a dumpster.”

“It’s called a sentimental value,” you dismiss.

Levi pours some out and takes a moment to observe the packed drugs on his palm, the blue color even and smooth. He’s never found himself drawn to this kind of thing, but he understands the usage. Something to escape from reality for a short period of time.

“I never expected you to turn on your past, of all people,” you mindlessly comment, causing him to look at you with furrowed brows. Though you never meant that the bad way and just wanted to speak your mind, your choice of words still strike a nerve from within him.

Why the fuck are people on the surface keep acting like angels as if they’re any better? At this point, he’d prefer his hometown people over some half assed drug addicts.

This should be enough for today. He carelessly chitchatted for long, almost forgetting his true purpose of being here. It’s too bad he has to ruin your oh-so perfect life. Well, there’s not much he can do about that as it’s how the cookie crumbles. Dragging people down to rise up the ranks is part of the norm in this wretched society, it’s just unfortunate he has to do it to you.

“Say, what if you join me? Leave the Corps and let’s team up. You can run the errands, and I stay here to formulate,” you continue to propose, fully unaware that you ticked him off just a second ago, bringing him back to earth.

“I can’t. Apparently, I’m a soldier now,” he straight up rejects and starts to walk up to you, handcuffs ready by his belt.

Taken aback by his deadpan refusal, you tilt your head in an attempt to understand. “Well then, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want is for you to come with me,” the soldier finally admits, showing the restraining shackles he has at hand.

Realization dawns upon you, and you feel a bit dense. Oh, right. He did welcome himself into your home, completely unannounced.

A dry and bitter chuckle leaves your throat continuously, dissolving into a long thread of laughter that echoes around the spacious room, resembling those of a mentally deranged woman. Levi’s forehead knots in a mix of puzzlement and irritation as he waits for you to calm down.

Your fit of entertainment starts to boil down, tears of satiric bliss filling your ducts. You wipe them off timidly, building up the manner of being a prim and proper lady. “Sorry… that was funnier than I expected,” you apologize, and he couldn’t quite understand what you want to come across with. He waits for your explanation.

“Buzz off, will you?” you ask of him once you finish composing yourself.

“What?” the man quizzes.

Your face turns dead serious as you fish a tiny pouch from your dress’ pockets, throwing it lazily to the table, contents spilling mid air due to the loosened tie. An abundance of golden coins shower all over the place and fall suspendedly to the ground.

“I’m telling you to fuck off. Now,” you don’t flash him even the smallest of smiles as you curtly give him the order.

You’re bribing him.

And fuck, did you drive him round the twist, he has never felt so insulted his whole life.

Is it because you’re doing well than him now despite the honorability of occupation? Is it because it’s coming from someone he knows from the past? Is it because of your tone so ludicrously condescending it’s making every single drop of blood in his body boil?

“Need more? Why don’t we negotiate upstairs with the amount that will send you away?” you carry on with casting aspersions on him.

What a jackass. After all you’ve done for him? There’s nothing you hate more than shameless traitors, and this guy in front of you doesn’t bat an eye about being one.

Meanwhile, you were rubbing to his face the looming difference between his stability and yours. And of course, it doesn’t matter whose reputation is better, because both of you were miscreants at one point in life. The only distinction is: you gladly kept on with that line of work, and he was forced with his.

Levi takes big strides to reach your form, dropping both the jacket and the drugs he was holding. He’s furious, but he refuses to show. All he wants now is for you to shut your filthy mouth.

He lunges at you and slams you against the wall, wrapping his fingers around your neck. An involuntary whimper slips past your lips, and it certainly feeds his ego to see you so helpless. “Shut your damn mouth,” he bellows, tone imposing the dangers you could get from rubbing him up the wrong way.

You’re not about to give him what he wants. He’s barking up the wrong tree here, treating you so indiferrently for what? For letting him in and being hospitable? For offering him a generous partnership? Can you believe this guy? He’d throw your acquaintance off the window for his own sake. Selfish crab.

“Hate to see your ally so successful?” you attempt to breathe out, one hand trying to unclasp his fingers, one hand aiming to claw your nails at his face. He slaps it away before you can make contact and increases pressure.

Your eyes well up from the suffocating pain as he robs you of air supply, choking you tightly and pressing roughly. Crap!

“That’s—all you got?” you struggle to challenge him, same time trying to pull the slightest amount of oxygen into your lungs you can catch on.

Your dare does absolutely nothing but piss him off. Wow, you’re a bitch to try and control. Levi has the means to tighten his grip. It doesn’t even matter to the MP’s if he brings you dead as long as he can hand over the evidence. But he won’t go that far, because that far would be killing you off.

Staying that way for a moment longer, he examines your facial expression, still brave and never surrendering. He then lets go of you, but only by throwing you to the hard ground. Your back hits the flooring and you squint your eyes in sharp ache, all the while desperately breathing for any available air.

“Rot in hell,” you curse at him in great detestation. Lying back, you gently caress your neck as if to heal the reddened skin from the harsh force he applied.

Levi sighs, collecting himself, and kneels down in level with your weakened body. Maybe he went too hard on you. He has got to keep his temper at bay.

“Sorry,” he genuinely says. It’s not everyday he says that word, but when he does, he accepts that he’s mistaken. A bit surprised, you peer at him with a bleary vision, finding a scowl on his face as he admits his wrongdoing.

You swear you were ready to laugh it all out and forgive him, if not for the fact that he’s currently grabbing the handcuffs, still determined to arrest you. How sincere of him. What exactly was he apologizing for again?

You wait for him to scoot over, discreetly regaining steady breath as you stay laying down. You’re not the best at countering someone combat wise, but growing up a female in the Underground has taught you a couple moves enough to stall you some time to escape.

As he finally crouches beside you, you jolt up to sit and sling two of your arms around his nape and under his armpit, pulling him towards you before throwing him beside with the strength you can manage to utilize.

When did you learn that move? It baffles Levi a little, but he won’t let you have your way. His weight isn’t something you could overlook, that you’re dragged along with and on top of him. The moment you try to quickly prop yourself up and make a run, he grabs your waist and rolls over to bring you back down, straddling on top of you.

“I’ll kill you!” you spit to his face, once again feeling betrayed. You never once thought he’d drive you into a corner do this to you.

“That’s cute of you,” he says in graceful sarcasm. You fight him back with a piercing glare, but he only looks back at you with those apathetic, steel grey eyes. Nothing has changed within them, they’re still cold and indecipherable. It matches his personality well.

Apathetic? He can’t be all that bad, he’s just human. He has needs, one way or another.

You stick a hand out to pull his dark locks, and for once, you actually succeed. He hisses in irritation. He should have expected you’d put up a fight, but he doesn’t get why he’s just straight up pissed. Talk about annoying.

He doesn’t expect it when you forcefully yank him in for a deep kiss, the sudden motion causing your lips to crash together, freezing him in place. It’s all just to take him by surprise and then you’d gab the chance to run away in haste. Cheap trick, but worth a shot. If this will work, that is.

Earlier than he can try to push you away, you kick your knee into his abdomen and hurl him aside with all your might, doing your best to head to the ladder leading up to the trapdoor. But Levi is quick on his feet and kicks your leg to make you lose balance. Tripping over yourself, you fall toward the table, your stomach plowing into its side frames. He will never let you escape.

You inwardly curse him for being such a headache. Before you know it, your left arm is rashly held behind your back and you shriek in pain, your cheek shoved down onto the tabletop. Shit. He got you there.

“Can’t you be any gentler?” you ask, voice soft and of forged innocence, which is patently just an attempt to con him. He ignores you and instead starts wearing one part of the handcuffs around your wrist from behind. You think of anything to get yourself out of this. Chuckling dryly, “Hey… I told you already. Let’s talk things out,” you woo, but to no avail. Levi twists your arm a bit, not too much, but enough to shut you up. He sure is enraged.

A lock clicks from one of the shackles and you feel the cold steel wrap your frail wrist. It’s happening, the most humiliating moment for a criminal. You’re all tapped out of ideas—

with your limited field of vision, you scan your eyes around what you can see, finding a trail of drugs scattered on the ground. It must be from when he launched at you and tried to strangle you to death. Although you still don’t know why he did that, you bury the thought to the back of your head to come up with a plan.

—except one.

A smile creeps up your lips, one that appears when you just figured out something clever. Alright, then. Let’s see what else is enraged.

Not giving him the chance to lock both your hands together, from your held up position, you perk your bum up a little to make a feel for his crotch. Your thick cheeks hit something poking and you giggle in festivity. It so turns out your hunch is right, his bulge is, indeed, straining from inside his pants.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he stops dead in his tracks and questions, more like an order for a valid answer.

With your bended over form being perfectly convenient, you wiggle your ass and stick it up against his obviously aching groin, teasing it even more. It’s a shame you’re both wearing clothes, your titillating movements ending up just mere friction.

“My, my. How long has it been like that?” you jest, voice about half an octave high and femininely suggestive. His brows knit in pique and flips you over to make you face him and to put a halt to your indecent measures. You click your tongue in mock, elbow propped against the table to look up at him.

“What a naughty soldier,” you whisper with a satisfied smirk, and reach a hand out to pull his cravat, yanking him down and in for another kiss. This time, it’s you who won’t let him escape, with nothing else but a nice trick for women to prevail over men.

It makes his hackles raise how you try to enter his mouth with your probing tongue like you’re the one in foremost control. As if he’ll let that happen.

He pushes your tongue back and bites your lower lip, earning him entrance along with a quiet mewl. He then travels your wet cavern with his own, forcefully exploring every inch to show you who’s in charge, like always. There and then, he instantly distinguishes the mint flavored nicotine evenly mixed in with your sweet saliva. It interests him how five years have already passed, and yet you consistently taste the same. Up until here, you never dropped the habit of smoking.

You try to fight back and earn your place, hooking both your heels into his hips to draw him closer. Even if it’s utterly inappropriate and misplaced, you quickly feel your pussy drip with excitement. Everything feels so nostalgic.

Amidst the kiss, his palm begins to roam around your body, from your neck to your chest. Levi finds the corset a hindrance, and he takes note to go back to it later, maybe rip it apart as well.

He resumes exploring your body, from your tummy, to your clothed womanhood. It starts to rile you up and turn you on as he slips his hand under your dress, not bothering to lift it up, just blindly cupping for your sex. When he finally feels your panties, you know for certain he smirked.

“You’re not so frigid yourself,” he comments upon the discovery that your growing wetness is soaking the fabric. He slides one finger against your slit, your undergarment still in between. He gently rubs on it as he sucks on your soft lips, earning him quiet moans in return. What a nasty tease.

When you both pull away for air, you open your eyes to look daringly straight into his grey ones, and while you exchange stares, you also let go of his cravat and grab his hand as if to guide them deeper and further in. He finds that you’re more than just eager when you put his hand inside, now in touch with your intimate skin. He gladly takes your offer and tears your panties away, his vigor making you laugh breathily.

Levi plunges two fingers in without delay, and you yield in defeat, letting him do as he likes. He has no intentions of lurking around the corner. You let your head hang back as he does you with his slick fingers, moaning to your will when he hits your good spots.

He lets his unreasonable hate and anger dissipate into nothingness, allowing himself to be indulgent in giving you pleasure. It’s been so long that this almost serves as your reunion. He doesn’t mind that. Just as long as he keeps in mind his sole purpose of breaking in to take him with you.

The ravenhead watches you spread your legs wider, visibly aching for more as you surrender to him and give him full control over your body. He moves his dexterous fingers in and out, the rhythm exquisite like how you prefer it. It’s like he still memorized you the same. Your responsive hums are tempting and fervid, your bodily movements a subtle indication of a longing. He increases his speed, looking for an angle to rub you up good, and he knows he hit it right when you shudder a little, back falling to the table and grip losing.

He lets on with working his hand, your juices coating his fingertips as he jabs them in deep repeatedly. It’s a flattering sight to see you so lost and vulnerable singlehandedly by his mere touch, and he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on.

Your sweet, melodious moans resonate inside the whole of the chambers, music to Levi’s ears. Your mouth partly hanging open, eyes in but a permanent daze as you struggle to crack them open. The way he has you going crazy is beautiful. You’re beautiful. Not half-bad-looking for a woman about to approach her thirties.

Out of nowhere, a mood ruining thought crosses his mind. He recalls you saying this place is where you bring your brokers. And since your neighbors haven’t found out your true identity and racket yet, having a clump of men visit your apartment could entirely be misleading.

It’s only natural that they think you’re some kind of courtesan selling your body. Knowing you, you don’t give a flying fuck if people think that, but with him, it doesn’t sit right. Who knows? Maybe you actually humor the same men every once in a while. Just look at what you’re doing now.

A grim expression materializes on his face. No, he’s not jealous. But in all honesty, he wants what’s his to stay his.

You couldn’t think of anything as he harshly thrusts his fingers into you, your body’s consciousness focusing only on the uprising pleasure, but when you’re this close to coming, all of a sudden, he pulls them out at once, grabs your hands and finally locks both your wrists together with the handcuffs before pinning them on top of your head.

Cruelly left hanging, a wave of disappointment rushes over your veins. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” you whine, genuinely annoyed as you’re already fully installed and waiting for your explosion. Did he do that on purpose? Yes. But to your surprise, he doesn’t do anything to lift you up or bring you with him to jail.

Brows furrowed and eyes dark, Levi unties your corset’s lacing in a rapaciously eager manner, harshly pulling down the garter of your neckline to let your boobs bounce free. Your eyes widen a little when he pulls your skirt up to gain thorough access of your fruity folds. You didn’t expect him to continue on, with you restrained, even.

“Just like the good old days, huh?” you tease, voice awash with prurience. Although this reminds you of those days, this is surely going to be a new experience. While handcuffed? You love it, and just thinking about him pounding you out as you’re unable to lay your hands on him makes your neck hairs straighten in great arousal. You’re totally into this!

He’s suddenly reminded of years ago when you’d come over to catch up with the latest trades, or simply just bring with you your babbling of the day. Oftentimes, the visit ends up in the bedroom, the couch, the kitchen.

You were both young, both helping fill each other’s primitive needs and desires, not the thinnest string left attached. You handled the whole thing casually, the whole thing being just lustful sex every once in a while. Fuck buddies. That’s what they call it.

Memories of your heated body rubbing up against his, lips messy on one another’s skin, hands everywhere, nude and naked—sometimes still completely clothed, fucking you against the wall, fucking you on the counter, and finally, you kneeling on the floor as you eat him up hungrily. All of those, just five years ago.

He’s only proven you haven’t changed despite the time difference when you kick your kitten heels away like you disregard its price, stretch your right leg out to reach his crotch, your foot making a feel for his huge bulge.

He looks down to his pants, your toes stroking his covered length invitingly as if to provoke it. “You’re one fucking dirty bitch,” he points out upon your indecorous actions, meeting your catlike eyes illuminating nothing but indiscriminate salacity.

“We’re not all that different, see?” you tell, never tearing your gaze off him as you continue moving your foot up and down. He’s straining so bad, almost making you giggle. Come on, Levi. You’re just as aching as me. We could use a quickie.

He sternly grabs your ankle to stop your lewd ways and keeps quiet until you speak. Does he really think he can stop you from acting so dirty? You then bring your chained wrists to your chest, gently massaging your exposed breasts with what space you can manage, giving him a little show you know he can’t resist.

“I mean, just look at you, wearing a cheesy cravat like it’s gonna make you look dignified,” you poke fun at him and laugh, flashing him a grin before seductively licking your lips. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, but is still unable to take his eyes off of your body as you continue to play with your very own mounds.

“Shut up,” he orders, stripping the authority in his tone. Oh… you know him perfectly well. It’ll only take one last trigger for him to fire away and spring into action.

“You shut up and just fuck me,” you demand candidly, the smile in your face disappearing in the blink of an eye.

You like to think he’s one hell of a dog as he listens to your whim, undoes his trousers, only dropping them so far because of his difficult, complicated, and inhibiting harnesses. What a costume. He glares at you when you raise a sly brow at him, cocky expression conveying the words: still wanna be a soldier?

Levi just wants you to shut up for real, and he victoriously does that by pulling your body closer to the end of the table, then practically ramming his huge dick inside you, his massiveness able to cover your whole depth when he mercilessly buries it in. A long and sonorous moan leaves your throat in the utmost pleasure. Shit, he’s so big! Your tight walls are forced to adjust, desperately stretching to adapt to his size.

“Oh, fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back to release your emotions, eyes clenching shut in nauseating pain. Overwhelming! Can a man in his age still grow? You didn’t expect this in any way. It sure hurts like a bitch, but that’s just one of the reasons why you love it.

The cadet starts moving in a pace that tells you he won’t be beating around the bush, quick and rough. The only thing you’re worrying about is the soreness that you’ll get once this is finished, because right now—you’ve said it two times—you love it.

His anger seeping as he forces his dick in and out of your fuckhole, Levi finds it an entertaining cabaret as he watches you, your makeshift play consisting of you opening your mouth wide to moan in fervor, whipping your head side to side, eyelids falling while he quickly drives you to the brink of insanity. One bewitching whore, he thinks.

He bucks his hips even faster and spreads your legs wider apart to let you have what you want, violent and aggressive. Like an obedient lady’s man, Levi spoils your carnality by licking his middle and forefinger to rub your engorged clit, his spit helping him circle the most sensitive spot in ease.

You arch your back up in surprise, your nerves receptive in alerting you of the littlest motions. He’s so good. So good that your brain is going blank, unknowing of what to do. When you squirm under him, try to shoot up and search something to hold on for dear life, only to fall back against the table, your manacled hands suddenly add up to the gratifying thrill stirred with powerlessness. It makes Levi smirk for a fleeting second.

Not so free now, are you?

Simultaneously, Levi deepens his thrusts and starts to rubbing your clit directly to intensify the sensation, back and forth, up and down. With fervent eyes, he feasts on your body as it loses control, tits bouncing from his relentless humps, pussy unendingly leaking. Out of reflex, you try to wriggle away, but to no avail. You’re losing your mind by his marvelous stimulation, and you remember just how he feels like before.

The humidity is starting to take over your bodies, and you both feel hotter. The dark room, the rattling of the lantern on the table, sweat beginning to break through your skins, his stifled grunts, your loud wails, both your heads full of lustful desire. Who knew an apprehension would end up like this? Purely lewd. Seems normal to you, though.

The telltale signs of your upcoming orgasm appear. Your walls envelop around him tightly, your moans longer and hitching, your breaths shaky as you catch it and whatnot. The immense pleasure that keeps gradually stacking up inside your veins finally snaps free, and you come with unruly convulsions. Eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, your cunt contracting around him, he doesn’t stop, and fuck is it overbearing.

His dick reaching the end of you, his merciless thrusts unwavering when you’re obviously trembling uncontrollably, he’s a damn ruthless lad. The amount of spasms you receive is livid, you so wanted to applaud yourself for choosing the perfect guy. Exceptional taste.

Your high eventually tones down and you’re back to awareness. The demon stops moving soon as well, deciding maybe you’ve had enough.

You gasp for breath after losing your grip from the mind boggling experience. It’s been so long since you’ve had amazing sex, and when you say so long, you mean excruciatingly long years. You study him as he looks back at you. Still so dominant, isn’t he? Refusing to get off the same time you do.

Alright. You’ve had enough mindless nooky. Now it’s time to break free from his clutches. From your lied down position, you then proceed to distract him with some ramblings.

“You better not be fucking your comrades like this,” you quip, collecting yourself.

“I’m not like you,” Levi answers and pulls out, thinking about how much men you’ve entertained your whole life. You cock a brow upon hearing his smart assed reply and mock him again, a giggle escaping your mouth, “Gonna keep acting so clean?” He should know not to continue wanting to look like a saint. He’s not any different than you, for shit’s sake.

“You have a screwed up background, Levi. You can’t seriously be thinking your superiors will be in favor of you just because you lick their boots,” you honestly advise. Disgusting. One moment he’s leading his people, then being ordered around the next.

It’s this again. You shamming like you’re so immaculate. He’d prefer it if you get off your high horse.

“I’m giving you a chance, just quit and—“

“If you keep running your damn mouth, I’m going to make use of it,” he cuts you off before you can continue offering him a deal. It’s not that you genuinely believe he’ll go with it, you just want to stall him because you’re only playing by ear. One wrong move and he’ll stop you dead in your tracks.

His words pique your interest. Does he mean that in the sense that you think it is? “Oh yeah? And how?” you push his buttons to give it a shot.

Levi shows you what he means through grabbing you by the nape to yank you up, then dropping you to the floor, pretty face nearly shoved to the concrete. It hurts a tad, your knees hitting the ground roughly, but your eyes almost immediately dart on the bunch of azure tablets scattered everywhere, three of them within your reach. Perfect!

Quickly, you snatch them with both your hands in one fell swoop, and Levi miraculously misses out on your sneaky motions. You hiss a little in pain and close your palms together tightly when he pulls a fistful of your hair to hoist your head up. Forced to make eye contact with him from below, you momentarily meet his gaze brimming of disrespect before he dicks your mouth down with his length.

He pushes your head to his groin and pounds, so deep and so rash that you literally feel him hit the back of your throat. Tears pool from your ducts as you’re forced to take him inside your mouth. But he doesn’t get it wrong, because he knows you like it, of course.

With full intentions to reach his own end and cum on your pretty tongue, he shoves his erection into your warm cavern and tightens his hold on your now messy locks. He eyes you with resounding authority as you’re down on your knees with fettered hands on your lap, dress still on but tits bare and pouching outward from your neckline, looking up at him with glistening eyes like a good, well-behaved girl. It madly turns him on seeing you like that, what a view.

His fierce stale eyes prod you to bravely blink the tears away and independently move to your own will, proceeding to suck him with stupendous obedience. Fine then, you’ll go along with him. Nothing wrong about taking your time.

Levi throws his head back a little from your sudden motion, bobbing your head back and forth in harmony with his pumps, but quickly returns his gaze to you. You gladly eat his whole size without hesitation and keep your body still, nipples fully peaked in eagerness.

You’re always so damn good, just as he remembers. Never going without a challenge, the same lecherous emotions brewing within your orbs, listening to what you’re told. His grunts start to become audible.

“Look at you, sucking like a little slut,” he groans, slowly becoming unable to process things by your turn on serving him gratification. You give him a hum in response, the muffled sound creating a vibration as you continually hollow your mouth wide open against his thickness, sending chills up and down his spine. He inwardly curses, fuck.

Levi untangles his fingers from your strands, rests them on top of your head instead, and stops giving guidance, allowing you to perform well. You know just what to do and how to please him anyway.

You pull away, a loud and satisfying pop ringing inside the enclosed space upon losing connection. Panting, you inhale the air you could to prep yourself, temperate breath ghosting over his dampened skin. Time to take matter into your own devices. You glimpse at your interlaced fingers, clinking of metals reaching your ears. You can work this without using your hands. Let’s give him a show.

Pausing, you adore his intimidating thickness, the glowing pearls of precum impressively still there on its tip. You playfully swathe it with the edge of your tongue and look straight at him with a childlike gaze, the salty taste staining your buds. The sensitive area causes him shudder and shut his eyes closed inadvertently. And it’s rewarding to see him so affected, because this play is more about you controlling his pleasure, less about him being invulnerable. You feel your pussy trickle with desire.

Without any beating around the bush, you angle your neck a little to the right before gingerly taking him inside your mouth once again, closing in inch by inch. When you dauntlessly push forward until you’re on the verge of gagging, his size filled your throat the way you like it. Then, you go back to pumping in and out in a regular pace, sucking the tip harshly every once in a while.

Levi could feel himself approaching, his guttural groans set free and detectable. Fuck, you wanted to stroke him with your hands to add up to his growing euphoria, but you can’t.

This time round Levi is only able to peer at you from his drooping lids, following your every movements, and he finds winsome the way your cheeks lose its original shape due to his cock being inside, your lips lush and full around his shaft, tongue dancing in a way that mirrors the lantern’s fire. Moving in a very devious pace, you run a lick on the underside of his hot, veiny penis, lapping him up like a thirsty bitch. God, you are coy, and it’s taking him every last ounce of his resolve for his body not to react something close to pitiful submission.

It takes him one last blow for him to finally explode, a powerful rush spreading all throughout the ends of his limbs, his balls clenching as he shoots his cum deep inside your chops, to which you willingly gulp down, a satisfied ahh leaving your lungs like your quench for his seed has been solved.

The soldier mindlessly pats your head, and you give him a quiet purr before rising to your feet. We’re not finished yet.

As if your lips are magnetized into his own, you lean in and let them crash together. He answers back just the same, indicating he’s still up for some more. But you shouldn’t put your guard down, you might not know it if he knocks you out all of a sudden.

“You’re still the same nasty whore I know,” he vehemently growls in between the lip locking, intense flame starting to devour his system. “Shut up,” you talkback. You ache to touch him but these irksome shackles are on the way. You choose not to mind it anymore since it’s only a matter of minutes before you leave.

You push him back down to the chair and he sits down in force. “Pull my skirt up,” you order on a whim, and he does as he’s told, holding your skirt for you. You help yourself into the same chair and truss your knees beside his thighs, settling for a convenient position until you’re straddling his front, wrists on the chest’s top rail, then sitting on his fully stiff and awaiting cock. As you spread your laps apart to aim and sink down, you swear you almost went insane.

A lengthy, strenuous hum slips out your lips upon letting your tight cunt engulf his big dick. “Fuck,” you mutter, whipping your head back in zeal. You should try not to lose your mind or else.

Your stretched out neck grants him the opportunity to nibble at the delicate skin, sucking intensely to create a mark of ownership, the tangy flavor due to the thin film of sweat covering your skin. It stings a little when he nips, but almost tickling at the same time. You mewl and let Levi finish his job and lower your forehead to meet his glance.

It doesn’t take you long before returning to crashing into him, his distinct taste amusingly addictive to you. The kisses sloppy and unorganized, you begin to roll your hips up and down, and he thrusts upward to meet you like an animal in heat. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he breathes out low.

You pull away to gasp for wind, chest stuttering and ragged from your unfaltering humps. “I know,” you brag and pause. The near to none distance between you two allows you to study his facial features and point out what changed by the years.

Hmm, not a lot really. He still looks twenty-four with his superbly chiseled jaw, slightly parted inviting lips, narrow nose, and the slim lining of his brows. Flawless and without fault, except for the darkening bags under his silver pools, which you dig by the way. He is, in fact, the godly embodiment of sexy, you bet women in his rank swoon for him only to be pushed aside. Lucky of you, you have a one of a kind charisma that drags this real life devil to his feet.

You look into each other’s face for a couple briefing moments, both of you discovering similar pairs of fiery eyes filled with lust in an overflowing amount. Meanwhile, his gaze dawdles on your red lips, color smudged by his doing, and he likes it. The longer he stares up at you, the more he’s convinced you’re nothing but a licentious woman hiding under your little renaissance dresses. Just thinking about it makes him want to fuck you so bad.

Levi refuses to stay still and dives into your breasts, causing your back to arch, unexpectedly hitting the perfect spot. He isn’t content and squeezes your butt, then letting his hands sit just at the top of your ass’ globes. “Levi—ah!” Shit! You desperately hold back your uprising orgasm. You have to stay in tact.

With that in mind and while he suckles on your twin mounds, you grab the chance to wring your clasped hands to your mouth, letting three of your dear coderoin melt and simmer under your tongue. This will have to do.

It’s thrilling, you’re about to drug a person who’s currently eating your boobs out hungrily in an alternating manner. What an odd situation. You wish you could continue fucking, but let’s not forget that Levi is very objective, and he’ll still eventually do his task no matter how much fun you spent with him. Before he can do that, you’ll just beat him to it.

You wait for the sweet, pungent tang to unravel, and when he lifts his chin to kiss you, the drugs are already diluted by your spittle. You skillfully transfer it into his mouth in a sparse method so he won’t notice right away.

Completely unaware, Levi gets to sparring with your tongue in a battle of ascendancy, his hands groping everywhere, and you don’t stop riding him gracefully like you didn’t do anything malicious at all.

With every grind being slick, an endless seduction, you continue enjoying yourself for the last lingering junctures. The constant sheathing into your impossibly close-fitting fuckhole extracts husky groans from his throat, ending up subdued against your mouth. He bites on your lower lip, earning himself a delightful whimper.

Two minutes pass by, something snaps, the brisk effectiveness all thanks to you. He doesn’t know why kissing you feels so dizzying, and… intoxicating. He slowly stops moving his lips and pulls away, cracking both his eyes open, only to be greeted by a cunning look. Then and there, overwhelming peak hits him like a freight train.

He feels less aware, a heavy weight being pressed against his body, colors around him becoming vibrant and he bets his whole life he could feel his own blood stream moving from inside his veins, synchronized with his heartbeats. His peripheral vision seems artificially sluggish yet accelerating.

Your lips quirk upward, discovering the befuddled expression plastered on his handsome face. You notice how his muscles strain in distress, but he can’t move even a single inch, indicating your success.

Levi’s brows furrow in cluelessness, eyes later widening upon realizing what kind of dirty stunt you pulled on him from up your sleeve.

You fix your posture upright before removing your body from his, heaving out a sigh of relief. Standing up, you look at him. Frozen and unable to do a single thing to restrain you. Down and obedient like a mere, small pet. At long last! He’s out of your hair.

“You’re too high to walk straight right now, aren’t you?” you jest, voice laced with the most graceful condescension. Of course, you know perfectly well first times can be extremely stupefying, especially with the dosage you just used for a rookie like him. Instead of it being euphoric, it’s entirely going to be the opposite. Nothing close to good.

“What the fuck did you just do?” poor Levi seethes in anger, but even his tone sounds tenfold more groggy compared to when he first arrived.

“Gave you a heavenly experience?” you giggle and repeatedly pull your wrists away from each other in an effortless attempt to break them apart, the hindrance of a shackle limiting your movements. Bothersome.

What part of weariness and intense jet lag is the heavenly experience? In a trice, Levi blames himself for being careless and taking you for granted. He should’ve done better than forget you’re from the same garbage dump he’s from. You’re one fucking crazy bitch.

Helpless, he watches you walk to the part of the table where you left the cigarette pack, shaking it all out just to get one and clip it between your lips. Some roll off to the ground, but you pay it no heed. His blood is boiling hard and tries to stand. You let him squirm around, confident that he can’t do anything, and struggle on your own to fish your lighter from your dress’ pockets.

You take your precious time lighting your stick, butane triggering the fresh burn of tobacco. You don’t mind that you look ridiculous with both hands on your face, or that your hair is a mess, or that your breasts are popped out. As you suck for smoke and briefly fill your lungs to then blow it upwards, you think, it’s just you and a spiked guy in here anyway.

Letting the nicotine rush take over your senses, you sit on the edge of the table and examine the dark haired soldier. What gives, he’s more impotent than you now. It’s ever so rare to see Levi so open to attack. “Mint goes well with coderoin, you know?” you inform just to piss him off.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Though you can hear his fury, the threat only sounds so void, the usual venom lacking from his pitch.

He sits back as you pull in smoke into your chest, exhale it out, menthol aroma reaching his nose. You chuckle heartily that among every tip and corner of his body feels like burning from rage.

Time is ticking and slipping away from Levi’s grasp. He stays silent, the pounding of his heart loud enough to ring in his ears. He can’t accept he got deceived. Did you plan this from the very start? When? The moment he told you his intentions? The second he asked about your life here? Or maybe when he kicked the trapdoor open? That can’t be. Five years, and you’re quicker on your feet than you once were.

“That’s cute of you,” you copy what he said when you barked the same phrase. You admit, earlier was a close call, but thanks to your sharp mind and the past you shared, you won him over. Barely.

As always, men are most vulnerable when driven by libido. What fools.

With one last hit of the cigarette, achieving the lightheaded state you’re aiming for, you drop it to the floor, not bothering to extinguish it. Burn this house down, for all you care. You’ll have to move places from now, knowing he might start tailing behind you for vengeance.

Now, you can’t stay longer. The drugs won’t last on him from such a method. It’s not the right way to take it—through kissing.

It was a good time, but unfortunately, you have to part ways with him. The guy wants to arrest you, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You’d rather settle in and have five kids with an old geezer than spend the rest of your life in a prison. You’re not dense, you know how heavy your crimes are, having circulated in both the Underground and the surface for plenty years. Impressive of you, right? Makes it all the more fun to carry on.

That’s why they should just dream of catching you, because you’ll never let that happen.

You walk toward his immobilized body, movements slinky as you bend over to reach his face and deliciously run your tongue over his lips, tasting the seemingly nectar. As much as he wants to just grab you by the hair and kick your annoying face, he’s only able to lift his arms up a few inches before falling back down again.

It doesn’t escape your field of vision, reminding you to leave immediately. “Sweet, isn’t it?” you ask once you pull away, a sly smile on your lips.

“Why don’t we call it a truce, shall we?” you lastly negotiate. His lips are firmly pressed into a thin line and refuses to say anything. Steel grey eyes look back at you in annoyance. You tilt your head in curiosity. You know he has a lot going in his brain. This might be the last time you see each other, will he choose to keep those in?

Well, he does want you out of his sight right now before he regains his strength and kill you on the spot. He clicks his tongue in impatience.

“Just fucking leave, you lunatic,” he spits. You sure will.

“Gladly. Until next time, Levi,” you drawl and blow him a kiss goodbye, then strutting away in triumph, smile never leaving your face even if you’ve fully turned your back on him.

When you finally disappear, he lets out an exasperated sigh, contemplating his defeat. Nape resting on the chair’s rail, he looks up to the dark ceiling. A droplet of sweat slides from his forehead, which he manages to wipe away in no time, resilience overcoming the delirium.

Actually pondering about it, you’re a real witty one. Of course he was still going to take you with him eventually, he just hasn’t planned it ahead. Seriously though, a sneaky tactic. He massages his nose bridge, shaking his head.

What a crazy brat.

In the end, he decides to just pass on the work to Erwin about getting on the good side of the monarch and politicians, knowing full well he was in for some major explaining—maybe leave out the obscene details.

[skylarmoon71]

Bumblebee x Reader (Transformers)- Chapter 4

“Did I oversleep again?”

You squint, raising your head from your pillow. You almost jumped at the sight of the Autobot sitting in your room.

“B-Bee!”

You covered your mouth when you realized how loudly you said that. Running to the door, you locked it before turning back to him.

“W-What are you doing, how did you even get in with no one seeing.”

Looking out the open window, you realized it was still pretty dark. You just sighed. He was sitting with his legs pulled to a side. Because of his size, and the lack of room, there wasn’t much space for him to spread out.

“I missed you sport.” you couldn't be mad after he said that. It was only a weekend and he was already lonely.

“I’m surprised Sam never notices when you sneak away. Then again he’s probably used to it by now.”

Bumblebee was just sitting attentively, looking at you with those curious blue eyes. Now that he was just staring at you, it made you a little self conscious. You hadn’t exactly prepared for his arrival. All you had on was a tank top and a pair of shorts. You tugged at the shirt, looking down at your feet nervously.

“(Y/N).” you looked up at the sound of his call. He held out his hand for you. Stepping forward a bit hesitant, you took his hand. He guided you to the spot right between his legs, and you followed, sitting down. With your back to his chest, you tried to keep your eyes forward. Your nerves were on end.

“Bee you...when did you get your voice fixed?” you needed to make some type of conversation to keep your mind occupied, that seemed like the best topic. He sounded so different when he said your name, with no help from the radio it appeared.

“Ratchet has been helping me, do you like it?” you nod, turning slightly to look up at him.

“Mhmm, it suits you.” He sounded like a regular teenager. Yet still slightly mature.

“I’ve been learning a lot of things while you’ve been away (Y/N).” you raised a brow.

“Really, like what ?”

“Like the way humans interpret things compared to us. On cybertron we form bonds through our spark. It connects us. “ He pointed to his chest.

“Physically, we don’t have a heart, so there are still a few parts that I’m trying to understand. Like pain, pleasure..” you swallowed. Was it just you or did he say that part pretty seductively.

“O-Oh, well that’s r-really cool Bee.”

Why were you getting so worked up, you were imagining things. There’s no way that Bumblebee was trying to come unto you. That was ridiculous.

“Can I ask you a question (Y/N)?”

“Yeah sure, hit me.”

“Can I touch you?” you almost choked.

“T-T-Touch me!”

His hand came down, metal fingers resting on your knee. You were so small compared to him. The thought of him touching your body didn’t scare you, more like it excited you. That’s what sort of scared you.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“N-No of course not, it’s just that I-I...well I..” you stammered, not sure how to phrase it.

“You’ve never been touched by anyone.” your cheeks burned. You weren’t sure how to deal with your embarrassment, so you just buried your face into his chest plates, nodding slowly. A deep chuckle echoed throughout the room, and hell it was definitely the sexist thing you’d ever heard.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m kind of relieved. Lately just being with you doesn't seem like enough. I can't stop thinking about you. Your eyes, hair, lips..” His tone sends you into a small stir. It's so entrancing.

“Bee..”

Where did this side of him come from?

“Yes.” you gripped at his arm. Closing your eyes.

“Y-You can.”

“I can, what?” He was obviously teasing.

“Touch me. I want you to touch me Bee..” His engine reeved slightly.

The hand that reached down and slid between your thighs had your head spinning. Your fingers were digging into the metal of his hand as you tried to remain calm. You whimpered slightly. With your already lacking clothing, you could feel everything. His fingers were cold, but the moment it touched your most sensitive area, your entire body set aflame. Bumblebee was watching, studying every little sound you made, quick breath you took. He was getting pretty heated himself. Your breathless expression was so arousing. He wanted more, needed more. His free hand groped your chest softly and you moaned out his name.

“This is incredible.” He whispers. You were shaking in pleasure with every stroke of his hand to your core. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle your moans.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep it in (Y/N), I want to hear you. Does it feel good?”

It felt amazing. If only you could put that into words. You settle for a half nod.

“I love you like this (Y/N), you’re so submissive it’s adorable.”

Another helpless whimper left your lips as you bucked.

“Bee...Bee..Bee!”

You gasped, rolling unto the floor with a thud.

Looking up, your eyes were wide.

“N-No way…” you did not just do that.

“Oh shit.”

You had a wet dream, about Bumblebee.

“I’m screwed. “

That you were.

~~~~~

Waking up the next morning was a struggle. You twisted and turned in bed, and at the end, you only managed to get two hours of sleep. The blaring alarm clock on your dresser made you groan, rolling over.

“I really hate school.” This was the worst way to start Monday morning. Standing up begrudgingly, you started your morning routine, dreading what was about to await you.

~~~~

“What’s got you so cranky.” you turned to your friend, opening your eyes a bit wider and she just started laughing. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks, what happened?”

“Had a weird dream.” There was no way you were going to tell her you had a sexual dream about your alien robot friend who you were hopelessly crushing on.

“Stop watching those crime shows before you go to sleep. I keep telling you but you never listen."

If only she knew.

With a long sigh, you gripped your bag, pulling it over your shoulder. At least school was over. You barely made it through the first period. If not for the nap you took at lunch, you would have been out the rest of the day. Walking in step with your friend, your eyes drifted to the yellow vehicle parked outside your school.

“Hey (Y/N)!”

The window rolled down, and Sam grinned at you. Mikaela was in the passenger seat, wearing a smile of her own.

“Hey guys what’s up?”

The both of you went to different high schools, so it wasn’t unusual for him to stop by every now and then.

“Bee was getting a bit impatient, so I decided to just come pick you up.” Your heart skipped. Your friend nudge your hand with a smile, in which you returned with an eye roll.

“See you later (Y/N)~” She really did remind you of your mother sometimes. You waved her off, opening the door as you slid into the seat. The door closed and Sam pulled off. The conversation was light, you added in a word every now and then just to let them know you were invested, but your mind was elsewhere. You slumped a little in the seat. Just staying awake in class was a challenge. You were exhausted.

“Can I touch you (Y/N)..”

Your eyes flew open. You couldn’t even close your eyes anymore. You folded your hands on your lap, trying to steady your breath.

“Don’t make a scene, calm down, calm down.”

“You alright back there?” Sam watched you from the rear view mirror. Mikaela turned, and you were positive she noticed the flush in your cheeks. “I...I..” you couldn’t even speak properly.

“It's a girl problem isn’t it?” Mikaela interrupted. You were confused for a second, but the look she sent you, you knew she understood what was happening somehow.

“Y-Yeah, these cramps are torture.” Sam grimaced. “Enough said. Bee, step on it.” He didn’t even question it. You smiled at Mikaela appreciatively, mouthing your thanks.

The ride went by faster, and when you stepped out of the car, Mikaela followed. “I’m gonna help (Y/N) Sam.” He nodded. “Do what you gotta do.” You could tell he just didn’t want the details. It was funny how childish he was when it came to that stuff. She kissed him goodbye.

“B-Bye Bee.” you mumbled.

“Later.” you didn’t need to be a genius to know he was disappointed. He was obviously looking forward to spending the evening with you. All that was running through your mind, there was no chance that would happen. You could barely survive a car ride, you weren’t sure you could sit through a conversation with him without those images flashing in your head. Opening your front door, you headed straight for your room, Mikaela behind you trailing silently. Inside your room felt like your own little safe space, and the moment you dropped your bag, she was watching you with a smirk.

“Okay spill, tell me everything.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, you were blushing in the car, and I’m one hundred percent sure it wasn’t because of Sam. “

So she did realize. You were honestly praying she would assume you were crushing on Sam.

“Would you believe me if I said he’s kind of cute?”

She looked unimpressed. “Nice try, now spill. “

You fell backwards on the bed covering your face.

Mikaela’s face lit up. “Oh my goodness you have a thing for Bumblebee!”

“Shhh not so loudly!” you almost fell off the bed for the second time that day.

“You have to tell him, I can tell him if you want.”

“No! No one’s saying anything especially after that dream I had.”

Shit.

“Oh..my goodness.” Mikaela mouthed. You groaned.

“You had a dirty dream about him!!”

“AHHH!! Would you keep your voice down woman!!”

There was a whole lot of talking after that. The biggest reason behind your fear of anyone finding out was more because you thought they would judge you. Bumblebee was a robot, yet to you he just felt so human like that you barely paid mind to the rough exterior. He didn’t even have a beating heart, but he held the power to make yours go into overdrive with just a look. You were hopelessly in love with him.

How would you hide that?

[soulwillower]

when richie met y/n • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

prologue

requested: idk if your taking requests rn BUTTTT could you do a richie fic that’s like when harry met sally? if you’ve seen it that is 🌟🌟🌟~🤍

warnings: mentions of sexist stuff, bc richie is a dick, mentions of sex, slander of the name sheldon (sorry), talking about the plot of casablanca but you dont rly have to have seen it lol

ok so i know i havent finished tozier but i just recently rewatched this movie and figured i’d write the prologue for this planed series n post it <3

[losers + reader have just graduated college in this. ]

2.3k words

♡

it’s after graduation '92 when y/n y/l/n first meets richard tozier. 

the trees are turning red and crusting off the tips of branches, the bitter cold of the university whipping around your car even though it's supposed to be nearing the end of spring. you're sitting awkwardly now, with your window cranked down, eyes glued to the couple at the edge of the sidewalk. they're entagled with each other enough that all you can make out is wild dark and curly hair, a sharp jawline, and the girl’s blonde hair gathered in a fist of the mysterious boy. but you'd notice your friend amanda anywhere, even if her back is turned and face occupied with another’s. 

you clear your throat, but they ignore you, the boy whose hands are wrapped around her waist tilting her jaw to kiss her even deeper. "i love you." she whispers. you feel awkward, and roll your eyes. it's still seconds later and so you clear your throat, muttering, "amanda." 

she jumps apart from the boy. "oh, hi y/n. um, y/n, this is richie tozier. richie, this is y/n y/l/n."

you lock eyes with the boy, who's got a smirk on his lips as he wipes his mouth. you watch as amanda's lip gloss rubs off his bright red lips, "nice to meet you, y/n." 

you nod back at him, antsy to start driving and nervous for some reason. "hi. you want to drive the first shift?"

he laughs slightly, shaking his head as his wild dark curls bounce around. he’s devastatingly handsome, and you’re not surprised amanda loves him so much. he pulls his crewneck's sleeves over his hands and shrugs, "no, you're there already, you can start if that works." you nod, slightly put off, but shrugging it off. 

"okay. the back's open." you watch awkwardly as the boy lifts his belongings into the space in your trunk, amanda coming up and hugging his tall, skinny frame. "please call me." she whispers. he nods and you watch from the rearview mirror, "call you as soon as we get there, baby." he says. your friend amanda whines, "oh, please call me from the road. "  the boy, richie, cracks a charming grin, "i'll call you before that."

almost gagging, you turn your attention to the radio and fiddle it, waiting for richie and amanda to finish making out against the back of your car. 

it's awkward once you start driving, richie tapping his long fingers against his knee as you stare at the road ahead of you. you clear your throat, "i have it all figured out. it's an eighteen hour trip, which breaks down into six shifts of three hours each. or, alternatively, we could break it down by mileage-" but while you're speaking, richie's leaning to fiddle around with a bag in the back. you blink, "er, there's a...there's a map on the... visor that i've marked to show the locations so we can change shifts." 

richie barely hums and crunches on something, making you turn to look at him. he lifts his brows, "grapes?"

you lift a brow, "n-no. i don't like to eat between meals." you say, eyes going between him and the road, where he spits out the grape seeds. "alright, y/n. why don't you tell me the story of your life." his sentence makes you do a double-take and you almost laugh. 

 when he sees your bewildered expression, he shrugs, "we've got eighteen hours to kill before we hit new york." 

shaking your head, "the story of my life won't even get us out of chicago." that makes him laugh, a sound that was shockingly unexpected as it cuts through the stale air of your car. a light, excited and shocked laugh that makes you smile as you watch the road, your eyes stealing a glance at the abrupt and disheveled boy lounging in the passenger seat. 

it's four hours later, and richie's convinced you to pull into a small diner on the side of the road. "-you're wrong." you shake your head as you enter the lot. "i'm not wrong, he wants her to leave! that's why he puts her on the plane." richie insists. you shake your head, "no, i don't think she wants to stay."you insist.  richie rolls his eyes at you, "of course she wants to stay. wouldn't you rather be with humphrey bogart than the other guy?"

you shrug, "i don't want to spend the rest of my life in casablanca married to a man who runs a bar. i probably sound very snobbish to you, but i don't.” 

richie looks shocked and annoyed, slamming the car door shut to catch up to you as you walk towards the front doors. "you'd rather be in a passionless marriage." you nod, "well, yeah, and be the first lady of czechoslovakia."

"really? that rather than live with the man you've had the greatest sex of your life with, and just because he owns a bar and that is all he does."

 you glare at him, "ingrid bergman is sensible, okay? that's why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie. she knows better, just like i do." 

as a waitress takes you to a booth, richie hums behind you with amusement laced into his voice. "ohh, okay. okay. i understand now." you look at him, "what?" but he shakes his head. "nothing." "tell me."  "no. forget about it." "forget about what? tell me." you insist.  richie's pushing up his glasses and staring at the menu, grinning. "it's not important." "-just tell me!" you hiss.  richie pushes his menu down and looks at you cockily. "obviously you haven't had great sex yet."

you blink, staring at him in shock. this stranger, who you met hours ago, is telling you that you haven't had good sex yet? you scowl, "yes i have." you snap. 

he laughs, looking at the menu still. "no you haven't."

you accidentally project your next words loudly, "it just so happens that i have had plenty of good sex."

 it goes silent at the diner, all the eyes on you. the waiters and workers stare, the other patrons watching with wide eyes as richie just grins at you. you feel yourself go red with embarrassment. what is it about this kid that gets you so mad?  

richie seems unphased. "well, with who?" he asks. you mutter, "whom." to correct him, and so he folds his hands and tries again, "with whom are you having this fantastic sex?"  "i'm not telling you that."  "fine, don't tell me." richie says with a shrug, reading over the menu once again. you study his face, the light smirk that seems to be plastered onto his lips permanently; the freckles over his cheeks, forehead and nose. something about him makes you feel like you have to prove yourself.  "shel gordon." you say after a moment. 

"shel? sheldon?" he asks, eyes dark blue as they lock with yours. he laughs, "no, no, you didn't have great sex with sheldon."

"fuck you." you spit. he's still chuckling as he says, "no, no. sheldon can do your income taxes. if you need a root canal, sheldon's your man. but humping and pumping is not sheldon's strong suit." you wrinkle your nose at his vulgar language. "it's the name. 'do it to me sheldon, oh, you're an animal 'sheldon.' it doesn't work." he says, moaning loudly and making you red. you swat him and he laughs. 

 you're furious, but the waitress shows up and asks for your orders. "hiya doll, i'll have the number three, please." richie orders. the waitress looks at you. you smile, "i'd like the chef salad please with the oil and vinegar on the side and the apple pie a la mode. but if possible, i'd like the pie heated and i don't want the ice cream on top i want it on the side. and i'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it? if not then no ice cream, just whipped cream - but only if it's real. if it's out of a can then nothing."

the waitress looks at you and you can feel richie's eyes on you in the silence following your order. "not even the pie?" she asks, while writing. you shake your head, "no, just the pie, but then not heated.” she looks at you slightly but nods,  "noted, coming right up."

you look at richie, "what?" you ask as he stares at you. he shakes his head, "nothing, nothing. so how come you broke up with this sheldon?" he asks. 

you stare at him, irritated and regretting agreeing to this road trip. "how you know we broke up?" you say. richie grins, "because if you didn't break up, you wouldn't be here with me, you'd be off boning with sheldon the wonder-schlong."  "richie."

the next moment you know you shouldn't have agreed to this is an hour later, back on the road. you can feel richie's eyes burning into your head, so you stop singing.

 "you should probably keep your eyes on the road." you suggest lightly, making the boy crack a smirk. "you're a very attractive person." he says earnestly. you look back down to the map in your hands, "thank you."

"amanda never said how attractive you were." richie says, as if he's just saying whatever he's thinking. "well maybe she doesn't think i'm attractive." you say with a shrug.

 richie hums,"i don't think it's a matter of opinion," you can't help the butterflies in your chest at the compliment. "y'know, like...empirically you're attractive."

you frown, distrustful that richie's being so flirty with his girlfriend's friend. "amanda is my friend." you say. 

richie looks at you with a tilt of the head, "yeah, so?" "-so, you're going with her." "so?"  you scowl, "so you're coming on to me!"

richie's eyebrows shoot up and he looks defensive, "no i wasn't- what?" you're unimpressed, eyes widening and jaw dropping. this boy is full of shit, and the smirk on his face proves it. you don't think you're much of a big fan of this richie kid. 

"can't a man say a woman is attractive without it being a come-on?" he asks with a blindingly charming smile that makes you glare. "-alright, alright, let's just say just for the sake of argument that it was a come-on. what do you want me to do about it? i take it back, okay? i take it back."

you cross your arms, staring out the window. "you can't take it back." richie groans, "why not?" "because it's already out there." "oh god, what are we suppose to do, call the cops? it's already out there!" he yelps, swerving on the road and making you grip your seat. "just let it lie, okay?" you say, annoyed. "great! let it lie. that's my policy. that's what i always say, let it lie." richie mutters, and you shoot him a glance before looking back at the rolling greenery outside the window.  it's quiet for a moment, then, "wanna spend the night at a motel?"

your jaw drops, richie beating you to speaking as he laughs at your reaction. he finds it so funny, but all you do is glare. asshole.  "see what i did? i didn't let it lie." "richie." you say. "i said i wouldn't and i didn't." he adds.  "richie." 

"in fact, i went the other way, i-" you cut richie off, "richie!"  he looks at you, "what?" you shake your head, huffing. "we're just going to be friends, okay?" 

"fine by me. friends, it's the best thing. " he says.

it's silent for ten more minutes, and you almost get to sleep until you're jolted awake by a voice you've been forced to listen two for six hours straight. "-you realize, of course, that we can never be friends."

his words, while irritating beyond belief, do capture your attention. "and why not?" you say. 

he swallows. "what I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.”

its silent for a second as you take in the stupidity of his words. "jesus, richie. that's not true, i have a number of men friends and there's no sex involved.”

“no you don't.” he says matter-of-factly. you scowl, "yes i do.”  

“no you don't.”  “yes i do.”  "you only think you do.”

"you're saying i'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?" you sass, rolling your eyes so hard it hurts. richie huffs a short laugh, "no, what i'm saying is they all want to have sex with you." 

you wrinkle your nose. "they do not. that's really disgusting."  "maybe it is, but it’s true." "they do not!" you insist, turning in your seat to stare at him. "do too." your jaw goes slack and you narrow your eyes, "how do you know?"

"because. no man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive - he always wants to have sex with her."

you feel like punching him in the face. "so you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive." you say, feeling disgusted by his sexism. "we- uh, you pretty much wanna nail 'em too."

you groan, "well what if the women don't want to have sex with you?" you say. "well, sure. but it's still ruined because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that’s the end of the story. men are very stupid and painfully simple creatures."

"well i guess we're not going to be friends then." you snap, turning to look back out the window. he's such a fucking douche, you can't believe you're trapped in this car with him for ten more hours. 

"guess not." he mutters.

you sigh, "that's too bad. you're the only person i knew in new york."

you slept for eight of the ten hours left, and when you’re unloading richie's luggage from your car in front of a small apartment, he nudges you slightly. you look up at him as he towers above you, raising a brow. you hate to admit it, but this asshole is awfully cute when he’s not being the devil.  

"thanks for the ride." he says with a soft smile. 

you nod, "yeah, it was... interesting." you say. he smiles, "it was nice knowing you." he offers his hand out to you, and you grip it, his hand warm and rough in yours. "yeah." is all you can say. 

richie steps away, grabbing his things. "well... have a nice life." you say as you get back into the car. 

"you too, y/n." 

© all content belongs to soulwillower 2020. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

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