#he has dated women before but it felt so empty. like something was missing

[reidmarieprentiss]

Say Don't Go

Summary: You are given the opportunity of a lifetime, Spencer urges you to take it. Even if it means leaving him behind.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, typical BAU crime, mentions of drugging/kidnapping/robbery, brief alcohol consumption by reader and friends, clubs, break up(?), talks of marriage, forced choices/decisions, happy ending !

Word count: 15k

a/n: so what if this pulls inspiration from the train scene in glee... SO WHAT ... and so what if i named a character after kurt

main masterlist

December 2008 – Present

"You’ve been with so many women you don’t remember their names?" Spencer asked, laughing at Derek.

"Are you surprised?" Emily snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"This has never happened to me before," Derek defended, sounding genuinely incredulous.

"It’s never happened to me before either," Spencer chimed in, grinning as he started toward the conference room.

"It can’t happen to you—you have an eidetic memory," Emily teased, her smirk unmistakable.

"Plus, you only have one name to remember," Derek added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ha ha," Spencer replied, forcing a laugh, though the words cut deeper than he let on. Derek wasn’t wrong.  

He only had one name to remember. One that mattered above all the others.  

But Spencer had messed it up. He had let you get on that train. He had let you walk away.

Spencer's regrets weren't always loud or obvious; they often whispered to him in the quiet moments of his everyday life, weaving their way into his thoughts like unwelcome visitors he couldn’t shake.

It was in the mornings, when he brewed a pot of coffee in his lonely apartment, and his hand hovered over the second mug he used to pour for you. He’d catch himself mid-motion, the pang of realization that you weren’t there cutting through him like a knife. He’d take his coffee black, staring at the empty chair across from him, and wonder if you were having your morning cup too—if you still took it with two sugars and a splash of cream.

At work, it was the little things that brought you to mind. A joke Derek would make, or the way Emily tilted her head while teasing him, reminded Spencer of how you used to laugh with him, soft and genuine. He could still hear your voice in the back of his mind, offering your take on a case or pointing out something he’d missed. Those moments were the hardest—because they reminded him of how much better everything had been when you were there to share it with him.

And then there were the books. Spencer couldn’t walk into his favorite bookstore without being overwhelmed by the memory of browsing the aisles with you, debating over which novel to pick for your next "couples read." Now, those shelves felt empty, even when they were fully stocked. He’d run his fingers over the spines, pausing at titles he knew you would’ve loved, but he never brought himself to buy them. What was the point if you weren’t there to read them with him?

Evenings were the worst. After a long day at the BAU, when he returned to his dim apartment, the silence was deafening. He’d sit at his desk, pulling out old case files to distract himself, but his eyes would always drift to the small keepsake box he kept on the shelf. Inside were the remnants of your time together—a movie ticket stub, a pressed flower from a date, a Polaroid of you laughing at something he’d said. He’d told himself he’d put it away to move on, but instead, it became a shrine to his mistakes, one he visited more often than he’d like to admit.

And then there were the nights when the ache became unbearable, when he’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the image of you boarding that train. He could still hear the sound of the wheels on the tracks, still see the tear-streaked expression on your face when you looked at him through the window. Those nights, he’d wonder what he’d say to you if he had another chance—what he’d do differently if he could go back. 

The regret wasn’t just a feeling; it was a constant presence in his life. It was the realization that, in trying to give you what he thought you needed, he’d taken away the one thing he needed most: you.

—

June 2008

“Spencer?” you asked cautiously, looking over at your boyfriend as his car came to a stop in front of the train station.  

You could see him take a deep, trembling breath, the shakiness audible even as he tried to steady himself.  

When he turned to face you, his eyes were already brimming with tears, spilling over before he could even speak.  

“You said we were going to dinner,” you reminded him, your throat tightening as dread began to settle in your chest. You were trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, clinging to the hope that you were wrong.  

Spencer cleared his throat, but it didn’t stop his voice from breaking as he said, “No.” He shook his head, and the weight of his next words seemed to crush him as he continued, “You’re going to New York.”  

“What?” Your voice shot up as you stared at him in disbelief, as if he had grown another head. “What do you mean? I turned Aubrey down.”  

“I know,” Spencer sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I can’t let you throw your dreams away for me.”  

“My dreams?” you repeated, your voice rising in anger and heartbreak. “Spencer, you are my dream. I love you!”  

“I love you too,” he choked out through his tears, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”  

“But—” you tried, your hands reaching for his as if grounding him could change his mind.  

“No, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, though the pain in it was unmistakable. “I—I called Aubrey. She still wants you. I told her you accepted the position. That you’re coming.”  

“Why?” you cried, the single word breaking into a sob. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you searched his face, desperate for an answer that would make this make sense.  

Spencer’s lips quivered, and he looked away, unable to face the devastation in your eyes. "Because you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lump in his throat.  

"But I already have everything I want!" you shouted, your hands gripping the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you. "You’re all I need, Spencer. You’re it for me!"  

He let out a shuddering breath, his tears falling freely now as his hands reached up to cover yours. For a moment, you thought he might give in, that he might change his mind. But then he shook his head again, his expression resolute despite the anguish etched into every line of his face.  

"You’ll resent me one day," he said, his voice cracking. "You’ll look back and wonder what you could’ve done, what you could’ve been if you hadn’t stayed for me. I can’t live with that. I can’t live knowing I held you back."  

"That’s not fair!" you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of your sobs. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me! I chose you, Spencer. I chose us!"  

"I know," he whispered, his hands tightening over yours as if trying to memorize the feeling. "And that’s why I have to do this. Because I love you too much to let you give up your future for me."  

"My future is with you!" you insisted, but he was already pulling your hands away from his face, gently but firmly.  

"I called Aubrey," he repeated, his voice hollow. "She’ll be waiting for you at the station in New York. Your ticket is already bought. Your bags… they’re in the trunk."  

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. "You… you packed my things?"  

Spencer nodded, his expression breaking entirely under the weight of your hurt. "I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t."  

"You had no right!" you shouted, shoving at his chest. "No right, Spencer!"  

He took it, letting you pound against him until your strength gave out, until your sobs consumed you, leaving you trembling and broken in his arms. "I’m sorry," he murmured over and over, pressing his lips to your hair. "I’m so sorry."  

But he wasn’t sorry enough to stop you from going.  

As the train whistle sounded in the distance, Spencer gently pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "You have to go," he said softly, his voice thick with tears. "The train won’t wait."  

"I hate you," you whispered, the words cutting him deeper than anything else ever could.  

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible as he let his hands drop to his lap. "But one day… I hope you’ll understand."  

He opened the car door for you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at him with tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with the weight of everything unsaid.  

Finally, you whispered, "Goodbye, Spencer," your voice trembling as you stepped out of the car.  

He didn’t respond, didn’t say anything as he watched you walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to his heart.  

And when the train finally began to pull out of the station, Spencer felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The reality of what he’d done crashed into him like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, his legs were moving, carrying him toward the train. "No," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky and panicked. "What have I done?"  

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran alongside the train, desperate, tears streaming down his face. He called your name, his voice breaking, though he wasn’t sure if you could even hear him through the thick glass and the noise of the train.  

Inside the train car, you were curled into the seat, staring blankly out the window, your face streaked with tears. You weren’t expecting to see him. But then, there he was—running alongside the train, his expression frantic, his lips forming words you couldn’t quite hear.  

Your heart shattered all over again. The sight of him, so desperate, so raw, made it even harder to leave. Your hand instinctively pressed against the cold glass, a futile attempt to reach for him.  

Spencer’s legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he kept running, the distance between him and the train growing with every passing second. His vision blurred from the tears, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.  

But you… you couldn’t bear to watch. Your tears fell harder as you pulled your hand away from the window and turned your head, unable to keep looking at him. You had to look away, even though it felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.  

Spencer stumbled, slowing as the train picked up speed, his legs finally giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air, watching helplessly as the train—and you—disappeared into the horizon.  

He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. "What have I done?" he whispered to no one, the words echoing into the empty night.  

You were gone. And Spencer knew, deep down, that he’d just made the worst mistake of his life.  

—

September 2008

You loved your new life. How could you not? You had everything you had once dreamed of—your new position as second in command to the CEO of your favorite designer brand was everything you’d worked so hard for. The thrill of overseeing campaigns, approving designs, and brushing shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry was exhilarating.  

You’d settled into your new routine as well as anyone could when starting fresh in a bustling city like New York. Moving in with Aubrey Wilkes, the CEO herself, was daunting at first, but she made it easier. Her mentorship was invaluable, and her sharp wit and genuine kindness turned her into a friend as much as a boss.  

Your days were filled with meetings in glass-walled boardrooms, late nights spent poring over designs and strategies, and the occasional glamorous event that kept your calendar full. You had the life you always said you wanted.  

And yet...  

Every single day, Spencer found his way into your thoughts.  

It wasn’t always obvious at first. Maybe it was a book you saw in a shop window that reminded you of one of his recommendations, or a classical piece playing softly in a café that you knew he loved. Sometimes it was the sound of someone’s laugh that carried the same rhythm as his, or the sight of a man at the train station holding a bouquet of daisies like the ones he used to bring you.  

Other times, it was the silence that brought him back. At the end of a long day, when you’d kick off your heels and collapse onto your couch, you’d find yourself wishing you could tell him about your wins and your struggles. You’d wonder how he’d react to the stories you had to tell, imagining his soft smile or the way his hands would flutter nervously when he was excited for you.  

There were nights when it hit harder—when the city lights felt too bright and the penthouse apartment too cold. On those nights, you’d curl up in bed and stare out at the skyline, wondering if Spencer ever thought about you, too. If he regretted what he’d done. If he missed you as much as you missed him.

Because no matter how perfect your new life seemed on paper, a part of you still felt like it was missing. And that part had a name. Spencer Reid.

—

February 2007

It was a crisp evening as the warm glow of the restaurant's candles reflected off the polished surfaces, casting a cozy light over the two of you. Spencer had chosen this place because it was where you first met, a sentimental touch to the holiday of love that made your heart swell. The quiet buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses provided a soothing backdrop as you both enjoyed your meal, the comfort of each other's presence making the night feel perfect.

You were mid-laugh at something Spencer had said when a woman approached your table, her eyes wide with admiration. "I’m so sorry to bother you," she began, her voice apologetic but earnest. "But that is the most fabulous dress I have ever seen. Can I ask where you got it?"  

Caught off guard, you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced down at the material that clung to your body in all the right places. You smoothed your hand over the fabric, feeling both flattered and shy under the woman’s praise.  

Spencer, noticing your blush, smirked proudly from across the table. His hand reached out instinctively, wrapping around yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch grounded you, reminding you that he was there, always your biggest supporter.  

"I–um," you stammered, your voice soft as you tried to find the words. "I made it."  

The woman’s face lit up with genuine astonishment. "You made it?" she repeated, her tone filled with awe. "That’s incredible. You have such talent."  

Spencer’s smirk deepened into a full-blown grin as he interjected, his voice laced with pride. "She’s amazing, isn’t she? I keep telling her she could make a career out of this, but she’s too modest to listen."  

"Spencer," you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes at him as your blush deepened.  

The woman smiled warmly at the exchange, clearly charmed by the both of you. "Well, if you ever decide to give your talents to the world, give me a call." With a quick admiring glance at your dress one last time, she handed you a business card before turning to rejoin her party, leaving you and Spencer alone once again.  

You stared at the card in your hand, the golden lettering catching the soft glow of the restaurant’s lights. Your heart nearly stopped as you read the name printed at the top—Aubrey Wilkes.  

Your favorite designer.  

The logo you’d admired countless times on magazine covers and in shop windows felt surreal in your grasp. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the weight of the opportunity this might represent sinking in.  

Spencer noticed the stunned look on your face and tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone soft yet concerned.  

You slowly turned the card toward him, your hand trembling slightly. "It’s… her," you whispered, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer leaned closer, his eyes scanning the card before widening in recognition. His lips curled into a delighted smile, the kind that lit up his whole face. "Aubrey Wilkes?" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his tone. "Y/N, do you know what this means?"  

"I…" you began, but words failed you. It felt too big, too unexpected to process.  

"It means you’re amazing," Spencer continued, his voice steady as he reached across the table to take your free hand. "And now someone else sees it too."  

You looked back at Spencer, who was still holding your hand, his thumb now tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. "I told you people would notice," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "You’re incredible, and you should let the world see it."  

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Spencer," you whispered.  

"Always," he replied, his expression filled with a quiet devotion that made your heart flutter.  

The moment lingered between you, the restaurant and its patrons fading into the background as the two of you shared a look that said more than words ever could.

—

April 2007

"Spencer, I’m not going," you sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your chest as you leaned back in your chair. His persistence, while well-meaning, was starting to wear on you.  

"Y/N," he began, his tone both patient and pleading, "this isn’t just some casual opportunity. This is Aubrey Wilkes. She gave you her card. She wants to see what you can do. Do you even know how rare that is?"  

You folded your arms across your chest, avoiding his gaze. "I know exactly how rare it is, Spencer. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to New York."  

Spencer leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if physically holding himself back from pressing harder. "Why not?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with frustration but also genuine concern. "Is it fear? Because I know you, Y/N. You can do this. You’re more than talented enough."  

"It’s not fear," you shot back, though your voice faltered just enough for him to notice. You stared at the floor, your fingers gripping the edge of your chair. "It’s… it’s everything else. I have a life here. I have a job. I have you."  

Spencer’s heart clenched at your words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. "I know, and I love our life together," he said earnestly. "But I don’t want you to look back in ten years and wonder ‘what if.’ I don’t want you to resent me for holding you back from something you were meant to do."  

You flinched at his words, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. "You think I’d ever resent you? Spencer, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re the one who’s always supported me, encouraged me to believe in myself when no one else did."  

"And I’m still doing that," he countered gently. "That’s why I’m pushing this. I can’t stand the thought of you letting this slip away because you’re scared to leave me behind."  

"It’s not just that," you admitted, your voice breaking as tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t want to lose us. What if I go, and everything falls apart?"  

Spencer reached for your hands, cradling them between his. His thumbs traced soothing circles over your knuckles as he looked at you with all the tenderness in the world. "You won’t lose me, Y/N," he promised, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "I’ll be here, cheering you on, no matter where you are. I’d rather see you chasing your dreams, even if it’s from a distance, than staying here and giving up on them for me."  

Your tears spilled over, and you shook your head, torn between love for him and the fear of what leaving might mean. "I just don’t know, Spencer," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  

"I do," he said softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "I know how much you’re capable of, and I know you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. And I love you too much to let that happen."  

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling between you like an immovable wall. You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill again. “I’m just—I’m not going. Leave it alone,” you said firmly, your voice quieter than you intended but laced with finality.  

Spencer hesitated, his hand still outstretched as if reaching for you might close the growing distance between you. “Y/N,” he murmured softly, his tone a mix of frustration and desperation.  

“Can we be done with this, please?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but resolute. You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to feel like you were fighting with the one person who always understood you.  

Spencer stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue further. But then he closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

The word hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions—disappointment, worry, and love all tangled together. Spencer looked down at the table, fiddling with his napkin as if it held answers he couldn’t find in your eyes.  

You turned your gaze away, your chest tightening as silence settled over the room. It wasn’t the kind of silence that came with comfort—it was heavy, suffocating, filled with everything neither of you was saying.  

And though you had put an end to the conversation, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a crack in something you weren’t sure how to fix.  

—

August 2007

"Who was that?" Spencer asked as you walked back inside from the patio, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. He had noticed the look on your face as you ended the call—something between apprehension and surprise.  

You glanced down at your phone, the screen still lit with the call log. "Aubrey," you said hesitantly, tucking the device into your pocket.  

Spencer tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Aubrey Wilkes?"  

"Yeah," you admitted, your tone cautious as you avoided his gaze. "She… uh, she got my number. I don’t know how, but she did." You let out a nervous laugh, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.  

Spencer’s expression shifted to one of intrigue and concern. "And?" he prompted, sensing there was more to the story.  

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "She asked me to consider coming. Said there’s a spot opening next year—her number two is supposed to leave for another job in Milan."  

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his eyes searching your face as he processed the news. "That’s… huge," he said slowly, his voice laced with both excitement and hesitation.  

"I know," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s… it’s everything I dreamed about. She said she’d hold the spot for me if I wanted it."  

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze softening as he tried to read the emotions flickering across your face. "What did you say?"  

"I didn’t say anything," you admitted, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "I told her I needed time to think about it."  

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a moment to respond. "And… are you thinking about it?"  

You hesitated, your eyes dropping to the floor. "I don’t know," you said quietly. "I told you I wasn’t going. But now… it’s like she’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me, and I don’t know if I can ignore it anymore."  

Spencer’s heart ached at your words, but he forced a gentle smile as he said, “You shouldn’t ignore it.”  

You sighed heavily, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a storm cloud. "It’s just too much to think about right now," you murmured, walking over to where he sat. Without hesitation, you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped protectively around you. The warmth of his embrace was like a balm, soothing the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.  

"Will you read to me?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.  

“Of course, my love,” he replied without hesitation, his tone tender. He reached for the book he had been reading earlier, adjusting slightly so you could be more comfortable.  

As his calm, steady voice filled the room, weaving through the story’s narrative, you felt your nerves begin to settle. The cadence of his words acted like a lullaby, each one wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Spencer kept reading, even when he noticed your body growing heavier against his, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.  

He paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you. You were wearing a sweater you had designed and crafted yourself, the intricate stitching a testament to your talent and creativity. In your peaceful state, with your lips slightly parted and your lashes resting against your cheeks, you looked serene.  

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched you, a flood of emotions washing over him. He felt an overwhelming admiration for you—for your strength, your brilliance, your passion. But beneath that admiration was a deep-seated fear.  

He didn’t want you to give up this massive opportunity, the one you had dreamed of for so long, the one that could change your life. And yet, he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt that maybe he was the reason you were hesitating.  

The thought that he might be holding you back, even unintentionally, was almost unbearable. He wanted to be the one who supported you, who cheered you on, who encouraged you to take risks and chase your dreams. But as he held you in his arms, he wondered if his love for you was making it harder for you to leave.  

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet room, “I just want you to be happy.”  

He knew that when the time came, he would have to push you, no matter how much it hurt. Because loving you meant wanting the best for you—even if it meant letting you go.  

—

March 2008

You and Spencer were strolling through the mall, casually browsing the stores as you searched for the perfect gift for your grandmother’s upcoming birthday. The two of you laughed together as you passed by store windows, debating what she might like—a scarf, a brooch, maybe a fancy tea set.  

But then your steps slowed, your attention caught by something glinting behind a clear glass case. It was almost subconscious, your feet carrying you toward it before you even realized what had drawn you in.  

"Rings?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and amused as he came to stand beside you. His eyes flicked to the sparkling display before landing on your face, a tender smile curling on his lips.  

"Do you ever think about getting married?" you asked suddenly, your gaze still fixed on the rings, their polished surfaces reflecting the light.  

The question caught Spencer off guard. He blinked, his smile faltering for just a second before it returned, gentler this time. "Of course," he said softly, the vulnerability in his tone unmistakable. "Do… do you?"  

You finally tore your eyes away from the display, turning to face him with a grin. Your heart swelled at the look on his face—so earnest, so full of quiet hope.  

"Yes," you admitted, your smile widening as you decided to tease him just a little. "Preferably to a tall, nerdy doctor. But, you know, beggars can’t be choosers."  

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, his lips pulling into a bashful smile as he looked down at you. "I think you might be in luck," he said, his voice laced with warmth and a hint of playful humor.  

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head and feigning surprise.  

"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes glimmering with affection. "I hear there’s one who’s absolutely crazy about you."  

Your laughter bubbled up, filling the air between you as you leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both stood there, the sparkling rings forgotten as you focused entirely on each other.  

In that moment, with his arm around you and the warmth of his love so evident, you couldn’t help but imagine a future where one of those rings might be yours—and that future felt a lot closer than you’d ever thought possible.  

—

May 2008  

“Aubrey,” you sighed into the phone, keeping your voice low as you closed the bedroom door behind you. Spencer had finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning, his fever making rest nearly impossible. The last thing you wanted was to wake him now. “I told you I can’t.”  

Unbeknownst to you, the sound of the door clicking shut had stirred Spencer. His eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over him as he realized you weren’t lying beside him anymore. He sat up slightly, his head still heavy with fatigue, and strained to hear your voice coming from somewhere outside the room.  

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. At least, that’s what he told himself. But the moment he heard Aubrey’s name fall from your lips, his chest tightened, and his focus sharpened.  

“No… no… it’s not that…” Your voice wavered, and Spencer could picture you chewing your thumb nervously—something you always did when you were stressed. “I can’t leave. My whole life is in Virginia… well, no… he told me to go… yes, I know—”  

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart clenching at your words.  

“I love him, I love my life with him,” you continued, and Spencer felt his chest ache in equal parts relief and guilt. “Obviously… I’m sure it would work, but—” You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and longing. “My answer is still no. I’m sorry.”  

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed what he’d just heard. He could feel the weight of your words pressing against his chest, a reminder of the sacrifice you were making. He knew he was the reason you were staying. You were giving up your dream for him, and as much as he loved you for it, he couldn’t let it happen.  

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Spencer quickly laid back down, shutting his eyes tight like a child pretending to sleep past their bedtime. He tried to even out his breathing, though his heart raced beneath the covers.  

You slipped back into the bedroom quietly, the dim light from the hallway casting a soft glow as you moved toward the bed. Sliding under the covers, you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest. Your lips pressed a tender kiss over his heart, and you whispered, “I love you so much, Spencer Reid.”  

Spencer’s chest swelled at your words, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as he fought back the wave of emotions threatening to overcome him.  

As your breathing steadied and you drifted off to sleep, Spencer lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the echo of your words—“I love him… he told me to go.”  

By the time sleep finally claimed him, his mind was filled with plans. He had to get you to New York. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it scared him, he had to make sure you followed your dreams—even if it meant losing you in the process.  

—

December 2008 – Present

"Reid, are you paying attention?" Hotch’s firm yet concerned tone cut through the fog in Spencer’s mind, snapping him out of his reverie.  

Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes meeting Hotch’s piercing gaze. "Yes, sir," he replied quickly, his voice steady though his heart wasn’t.  

"Good. Let’s keep it that way," Hotch grumbled, clearly not in the mood for distractions.  

The team was seated around the conference table in the BAU’s jet, discussing the details of their latest case. They were headed to New York, where several women had been drugged and abducted from exclusive nightclubs in the Upper East Side. The unsub’s profile was slowly taking shape, but for Spencer, focusing on the details was harder than usual.  

Even hearing the name New York was like a dagger twisting in his side. It brought with it a flood of memories he had tried and failed to suppress—memories of you.  

He could picture the night you had finally told Aubrey no, the way your voice trembled with conviction when you said you were staying in Virginia. And yet, here he was, sitting on a jet bound for the very city where you were supposed to be building your dream.  

Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. This is my job. Focus on the case. He repeated the mantra in his mind, forcing himself to look at the crime scene photos spread across the table.  

But as the jet began its descent into the city, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the window. The glittering skyline of New York City came into view, and his chest tightened. He wondered, not for the first time, what your life might have looked like now. Would you be walking those streets right now, thriving in a world that had always been meant for you?  

"Reid, thoughts?" JJ’s voice broke through his spiral, and Spencer quickly blinked, realizing the team was looking at him expectantly.  

"Uh…" He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "The unsub likely uses a combination of charm and familiarity to gain the victims’ trust. Based on the timeline, he’s calculated and methodical, which suggests he’s not working impulsively. He might be using the same clubs regularly to scope out his targets."  

JJ nodded, taking notes as Morgan chimed in with his own observations. Hotch seemed satisfied that Spencer was back on track, but Spencer could still feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.  

As the jet landed and the team prepared to disembark, Spencer grabbed his bag and fell into step behind the others. He reminded himself that the job came first, that the women out there needed them to be focused and sharp.  

But as they exited the airport and the cold New York air hit his face, Spencer couldn’t help but feel the ghost of what could have been following close behind.  

As the team settled into the precinct, the familiar buzz of activity filled the air—phones ringing, officers shuffling papers, and the hum of conversation about the case. Spencer sat at a desk, his eyes scanning over a map as he worked on the geographical profile. On the surface, he looked focused, but internally, he was at war with himself.  

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. The sharp lines on the map blurred as his thoughts drifted.  

Which building do you live in? The question looped through his mind like a broken record. He knew you had moved to the Upper East Side with Aubrey when you first came to New York. But that had been months ago—almost a year, actually. Maybe you didn’t live with her anymore. Maybe you had your own place now.  

And then, more troubling thoughts crept in. Are you being safe? His chest tightened at the idea of you walking these streets, the same streets where women were being drugged and taken.  

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the photos of the nightclubs spread across the desk. He knew it was unlikely you frequented places like these. You’d never been one for the nightlife, always shying away from loud music and crowded spaces. He remembered how you used to fidget at gatherings, instinctively seeking out quieter corners where you could breathe.  

But the thought of you even being near these places, of someone seeing you, targeting you—it made his stomach churn.  

God, I hope you’re safe, Spencer thought, clenching his jaw as he tried to shake the image of you from his mind.  

“Reid, you okay?” Morgan’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.  

Spencer blinked, his hands tightening around the edges of the map. “Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound calmer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to piece together the unsub’s movements.”  

Morgan studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. “Alright, well, let me know if you need a second pair of eyes.”  

Spencer nodded, returning his gaze to the map. But even as he tried to refocus, his mind kept drifting back to you. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t even been able to convince himself to reach out.  

And yet, here he was, in your city, wondering if you were okay, if you were happy, if you were thinking about him too.  

After spending the day checking out the crime scenes and canvasing the surrounding areas, the team returned to the precinct to deliver their initial profile to the local police. Spencer sat near the back of the room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he tried to keep his focus on the case.  

Emily stood at the front, presenting the profile with her usual confidence. "We believe the unsub is targeting wealthy women," she explained, her tone even but firm. "Women who appear successful and independent—CEO’s, CFO’s, designers, singers, dancers, actors, chefs, etcetera. He sees them as trophies, not just victims. He uses their wealth and status to justify robbing them, taking their IDs, and eventually breaking into their homes after he’s done with them. This is about control and power, and his choice of victims reflects that."  

Spencer’s stomach churned as he listened, each word cutting deeper into his already frayed nerves. His mind was no longer on the women they were profiling; it was back on you.  

Every victim they described could have been you. Successful, talented, determined—everything about you fit the profile. You had climbed to the top of your field, a name that carried weight and admiration. You were exactly the kind of woman this unsub sought to dominate, to tear down.  

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the board where photos of the victims were pinned. Each face reminded him of you in some way—the confident smiles, the elegant postures, the undeniable strength that radiated from their pictures.  

He tried to push the thoughts away, to remind himself that you were likely far from this mess, probably tucked away in a luxurious apartment or a designer studio, far removed from the chaos he was immersed in.  

But the fear gnawed at him anyway. What if you weren’t safe? What if you were walking these streets late at night, lost in thought or distracted, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby?  

Morgan’s voice pulled him back to the moment, but Spencer barely registered what was being said. He felt frozen, paralyzed by the weight of his thoughts and the eerie similarities between you and the women they were trying to protect.  

The briefing ended, and the room began to clear out, officers heading back to their tasks. Spencer stayed seated, staring blankly at the photos on the board. His chest felt tight, his mind racing with all the possibilities he didn’t want to consider.  

"Reid?" JJ’s voice broke through the haze, her expression soft as she approached him. "What’s up with you? Is something wrong?”

He blinked, forcing himself to shake his head. "No," he lied, his voice flat. "Everything is fine."  

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close. Every instinct in him screamed to find you, to check on you, to make sure you were okay. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought that this case wasn’t just about catching an unsub—it was about protecting you from a danger he couldn’t control.  

—

You were getting ready with Aubrey and the rest of your group, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement. It was Blake’s 27th birthday, and they had chosen to celebrate with a night out at the clubs.  

The leopard-print dress you wore hugged your frame perfectly, its bold design a gift from Aubrey herself. As you zipped up your deep burgundy leather boots, the rich color catching the light, you couldn’t help but glance at your reflection. The outfit was striking—you felt sexy and confident.  

“Shots!” Kurt’s voice boomed from the living room, drawing laughter and cheers from the group. You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you finished adjusting your boots.  

“You ready to go, superstar?” Aubrey teased, leaning in the doorway with a knowing smile. She looked impeccable, as always, her outfit radiating confidence and style.  

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a grin, standing and smoothing out your dress.  

“Good,” Aubrey said, linking her arm with yours. “Because tonight, we’re leaving all the stress and work drama behind. It’s Blake’s night, and you, my dear, are going to have fun.”  

You laughed, letting her guide you toward the rest of the group. As the music played loudly in the background and someone handed you a shot glass, you tried to push away the unease creeping in. This wasn’t your scene, but for Blake—and with your friends by your side—you’d make the best of it.  

What’s the harm of one night out on the town?

Aubrey, with her effortless charm and impressive connections, had managed to get your group into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. As you approached the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement as you passed the long line of people waiting to get in.  

The bouncer gave your group a once-over before glancing at his clipboard, where your names were already on the list. He nodded to the hostess, who gestured for you to follow her inside. You exchanged amused glances with Aubrey, her confident smirk making it clear she was in her element.  

The energy of the club hit you immediately—a pulsing rhythm of music, vibrant lights reflecting off chandeliers and mirrored disco balls, and the faint scent of expensive perfume mingling with the coolness of the air-conditioned space.  

You were quickly led to a private VIP lounge area, tucked away yet with a perfect view of the dance floor. The sleek leather seating, soft glow of ambient lighting, and low table with a bottle of premium alcohol chilling on ice made it clear this was luxury at its finest.  

As you settled in with the group, Aubrey leaned over with a grin. "Not bad, huh?"  

"Not bad at all," you admitted, finally starting to feel the buzz of excitement that the rest of the group had radiated all night.  

Kurt popped the cork on the bottle with a celebratory cheer, pouring out drinks as Blake laughed and raised their glass. "To the best birthday ever!" Blake called out, their joy infectious as everyone clinked their glasses together.  

You took a sip, letting the fizzy warmth spread through you, and glanced out at the dance floor, watching the kaleidoscope of lights play over the crowd. For the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax, leaning into the moment. Tonight wasn’t about anything else—it was about celebrating Blake, being with friends, and maybe, just maybe, finding some joy in the chaos.  

It wasn’t until later in the evening, as the excitement of the night wore on, that you noticed something was wrong. Analise hadn’t returned from the bathroom in a very long time. At first, you didn’t think much of it—maybe she’d gotten caught up chatting with someone or had taken a phone call. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, unease began to settle in.  

You mentioned it to Aubrey, and soon, the rest of your group was involved, searching the crowded club for her. You checked every possible place she could be—the bathroom, the dance floor, the bar. You even tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail.  

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as you decided to check with door security. Maybe she’d decided to leave early and hadn’t told anyone. But when you explained the situation, the response you got made your heart drop.  

“She left about 40 minutes ago,” the bouncer informed you, his tone matter-of-fact. “She was with a man.”  

Your blood ran cold. Analise was a married lesbian woman with children. There was no way she would leave with a man.  

“That’s impossible,” you said, your voice shaking. “She wouldn’t… she would never do that.”  

The bouncer frowned, his expression darkening as he realized the weight of your words. Aubrey, ever composed, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “We need to check the security footage. Now.”  

The staff moved quickly, pulling up the tapes as your group crowded around, watching with bated breath. And there it was—clear as day. Analise stumbling out of the bathroom, visibly dazed, as a man wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the exit. You could see her trying to resist, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, but she was no match for him.  

Your stomach churned as the man led her out of the club. It was clear she’d been drugged and coerced.  

“We’re calling the police,” one of the security staff said, already reaching for his radio.  

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. The authorities arrived swiftly, questioning the staff and reviewing the footage. Your group, shaken and worried sick, was told to wait outside. When the police finally addressed you, it was to inform you that they needed to take statements from everyone who had been with Analise that night.  

Before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a police car, the flashing lights reflecting off the club’s exterior as it faded into the distance. Aubrey sat beside you, her normally composed demeanor fractured by worry. The rest of your group was being transported in other cars, but you all shared the same fear: What if it’s too late?  

As the car sped toward the station, you stared out the window, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Analise’s face, her laugh, her stories about her wife and kids—it all played in your mind like a reel you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was your fault, that somehow you should have noticed sooner, should have done something.  

Aubrey reached over, squeezing your hand tightly. “We’ll find her,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered.  

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. All you could do now was hope the authorities could act quickly enough. Analise’s life could depend on it.  

Your group was led into a quiet room, far from the noise and chaos of the precinct. The space felt sterile and impersonal, and the tension in the air was palpable as you waited, all of you exchanging worried glances. One by one, your friends were called out by law enforcement to give their accounts of the night’s events.  

You tried to steady your breathing, but your heart sank when one of the officers mentioned that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was on the case. The BAU, you thought, your stomach twisting into knots. That could only mean one thing—Spencer.  

Your mind raced. Please, let him be out in the field. Let him be anywhere but here, you silently begged. The idea of seeing him again, especially under these circumstances, felt overwhelming.  

But then a petite, pretty blonde woman entered the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to your spiraling nerves. She scanned the list in her hands before looking up and saying your name with a polite smile.  

You hesitated but stood up, smoothing your dress as you followed her down the hallway. She led you to a small interrogation room, where the walls seemed to close in just a little too tightly.  

“Have a seat,” the woman said gently, gesturing to the chair across from her. She handed you a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room.  

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, clutching the cup between your hands as if it were a lifeline.  

The woman gave you a reassuring smile, her blue eyes warm and steady. “My name is Jennifer Jareau,” she said, her voice calm and professional. “I’m an agent with the BAU, and I just have a few questions for you. You’re not in any trouble; we’re just trying to get a clear picture of what happened tonight.”  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her posture open and non-threatening. “I know tonight was difficult, but anything you can tell us might help us find your friend and bring her home safely.”  

You took a deep breath, letting her words settle over you. As much as you were afraid of what this moment represented, you knew you had to focus on Analise. You began recounting the evening, walking her through everything you could remember—how Analise had gone to the bathroom, how long she’d been gone, and how your group had discovered she had left the club with a man.  

JJ listened intently, taking notes but never breaking eye contact. Her steady presence made it easier to keep talking, even as your voice faltered at times.  

When you finished, she nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been really helpful. Thank you for being so detailed—it makes a big difference.”  

You offered a small, shaky smile. “I just want her to be okay.”  

“We’re going to do everything we can,” JJ said firmly, her voice filled with quiet determination.  

You nodded again, but as she stood to leave, a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if Spencer really is here? What if he walks through that door next? You weren’t sure you were ready for that moment. Not now. Not like this.  

—

When the call came in about a new abduction, Spencer held his breath, his stomach tightening as a familiar sense of dread crept in. For a brief, harrowing moment, he waited to hear your name. But it wasn’t.  

“Analise Bordeaux,” Penelope said over the phone, her tone efficient but tinged with urgency. “She’s a top-rated journalist for the New York Times. Married, with two kids. Her wife also reported her missing earlier tonight after she didn’t return home at a previously agreed time.”  

Spencer let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but the relief was fleeting. Another brilliant, accomplished woman was in danger, and the unsub’s pattern was becoming even clearer.  

“Morgan, Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the tense moment, bringing everyone back to focus. “I want the two of you to head to the club. Talk to the staff, review the footage, and see if anyone remembers anything unusual.”  

“Got it,” Morgan replied, already grabbing his jacket.  

Spencer nodded, silently falling into step with his partner. The ride to the club was quiet, the weight of the case settling heavily between them. Spencer’s mind wandered, as it often did in moments like this, and despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted to you. Were you okay? Were you being safe in this massive, chaotic city? The idea of something happening to you gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t shake.  

When they arrived at the club, the music still pulsed faintly in the background as staff cleaned up after the night’s events. The bouncer and several employees were waiting for them, and Derek immediately took the lead, flashing his badge and asking for access to the security footage.  

Spencer scanned the room as they worked, his sharp eyes noting every detail. The club was upscale, the kind of place that catered to high-profile clients, which fit the unsub’s victimology perfectly. He and Derek pored over the footage, watching as Analise stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements sluggish and disoriented. The man who had escorted her out didn’t seem remarkable at first glance, but Spencer’s mind was already analyzing every subtle detail—the way he scanned the room, the calculated calmness in his movements.  

“This guy fits in with the crowd,” Derek muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen.  

Spencer nodded. “He knows exactly how to stay under the radar. He’s blending in, using the chaos of the club to his advantage.”  

After questioning staff and gathering everything they could from the scene, the two men left the club and headed back to the precinct. The weight of what they’d seen hung heavily in the air between them, but Spencer was unusually quiet.  

“You good, pretty boy?” Derek finally asked, glancing over at him.  

“Yeah,” Spencer lied, his voice quieter than usual. “Just… thinking.”  

Derek didn’t push, but Spencer could feel his partner’s eyes on him. 

When Derek and Spencer arrived back at the precinct, they headed straight to the makeshift conference area where the rest of the team was gathered. The atmosphere was tense but focused, with everyone comparing notes and piecing together the puzzle of Analise’s abduction.  

JJ was finishing up her report on the interviews she had conducted with Analise’s friends. She held a notepad in her hand, skimming through her findings as she updated the team.  

“We have a list of people Analise spent the evening with,” JJ said, holding up the notepad. “Her coworkers and a few close friends all confirmed she wasn’t acting like herself before she went to the bathroom. Said she was dazed, disoriented in the footage—classic signs of being drugged. One of them even mentioned they tried calling her, but her phone’s off now.”  

As JJ spoke, Spencer’s gaze landed on the notepad in her hand. Something about it nagged at him—a sense of urgency he couldn’t quite place.  

“Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the list of names.  

JJ didn’t hesitate, handing the notepad over with a slight frown of curiosity. “Sure,” she said. “What are you thinking?”  

Spencer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the list quickly, his brain processing each name at lightning speed. And then he saw it.  

Your name.  

It hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt. His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on the notepad tightened as if he needed to steady himself.  

You’re here.  

“What is it, Reid?” JJ asked, her voice breaking through the sudden rush of emotions.  

Spencer forced himself to look up, his expression carefully neutral. “Um,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I just… wanted to see if anyone stood out.”  

He handed the notepad back to JJ, his hand trembling slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice, but Morgan, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes at him.  

Spencer’s mind raced. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t spoken to you since the night he let you go. And now, here you were, tangled up in a case involving dangerous predators and a missing woman. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the panic rising in his chest.  

“You recognize anyone?” JJ asked, her tone casual as she flipped back through the list.  

“No,” Spencer lied once more, his voice steadier this time.  

But inside, he felt like he was falling apart. Because no matter how much he tried to focus on the case, on the unsub, on finding Analise, one thought overpowered everything else: You were here.  

“What do you think, Hotch?” Rossi started, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Should we let them go?” He gestured vaguely, referring to your group still waiting in the designated room.  

“No,” Spencer said quickly, speaking up out of turn. His voice was firmer than he’d intended, and everyone turned to look at him with raised brows.  

“They’re safer here,” Spencer continued, his tone more measured now. “The unsub might have seen them. If they were with Analise all night, they could’ve been noticed, even targeted.”  

“Reid’s right,” Hotch said, nodding as he turned back to Rossi. “We’ll keep them here until we have more information. JJ, did any of them mention recognizing the unsub from the footage? Or if Analise recently changed anything in her routine that might have drawn attention?”  

JJ gently took her notepad back from Spencer, giving him another curious glance before flipping through her notes. “Uh… yes,” she said, stopping on a specific page. “One of them—Y/N Y/L—mentioned that Analise had just gotten a promotion at work. They went out to celebrate at a new restaurant last Thursday.”  

Spencer stiffened at the mention of your name, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.  

“Alright,” Hotch said decisively. “Let’s bring Y/N back into the interrogation room. She might have seen this man at the restaurant and didn’t realize it.”  

“I’ll go get her,” JJ offered, already rising from her seat and heading toward the door.  

“I’ll come too,” Spencer blurted out before he could stop himself.  

Everyone turned to look at him again, surprise flashing across their faces.  

“May—maybe a second set of ears,” Spencer stammered, quickly trying to justify his outburst. “Um, a new perspective might help.”  

Hotch studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read Spencer’s motives. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Fine. Go with her.”  

JJ gave Spencer a questioning look but said nothing, motioning for him to follow her. As they walked down the hallway toward the room where you and your friends were waiting, Spencer felt his chest tighten with every step.  

He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. And now, he was seconds away from coming face-to-face with the person he’d never stopped thinking about.  

—

You were just starting to lose your patience, shifting in your seat and glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, when the door opened again. The same woman from before, Jennifer, stepped inside with her calm and professional demeanor.  

“Y/N?” she said with a polite smile. “Can we see you again?”  

Your friends exchanged questioning glances, murmuring words of encouragement as you stood. “Good luck,” one of them whispered as you followed JJ out of the room and down the hallway.  

You tried to steady yourself, reminding yourself this was all routine. Just more questions. Nothing out of the ordinary. But as you stepped into the cold interrogation room again, the air felt different—charged, heavy.  

And then you saw him.  

Sitting in the chair across from the table, Spencer.  

Your breath caught in your throat, and the room that had felt icy before now felt like it was a thousand degrees hotter. You froze for a moment, your mind racing to make sense of the sight in front of you. He looked the same, yet different. His hair was slightly longer, his face a little more tired, but those eyes—the same deep, thoughtful eyes you’d once adored—were unmistakable.  

Spencer’s head snapped up as you entered, and for a second, he looked just as startled as you felt. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.  

“Y/N,” JJ said gently, breaking the heavy silence. She gestured toward the chair across from Spencer. “Have a seat.”  

You nodded stiffly, forcing your legs to move as you crossed the room and sat down. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves, shock, or something else entirely.  

Spencer cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You blinked, your throat dry as you nodded again. “Hello, agent,” you replied, equally quiet.  

JJ glanced between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion, but she quickly masked it. “Y/N, we just have a few follow-up questions,” she said, sitting down beside Spencer and pulling out her notepad.  

But it didn’t matter what she said. The only thing you could focus on was Spencer, sitting right there in front of you, as if the years between you had suddenly disappeared.  

The questions started simply enough—where had you and your group gone to dinner? How many people were there? Did anyone stand out or seem to take special interest in you?  

“There was one person,” you said after a moment of thought, tilting your head slightly as you tried to recall the details. “He was a busboy, I believe. But he kept coming by our table to check on us.”  

Spencer, who had been taking notes alongside JJ, immediately perked up at that. “He wasn’t your server?” he asked, his voice calm but focused.  

You shook your head, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “No, our server was a woman. She was very attentive, but this guy—he kept showing up. At first, we thought he was just really good at his job, but it started to feel… I don’t know, a little strange.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. “Strange how? Did he say anything to you, or was it more about his behavior?”  

“It was mostly his behavior,” you replied, frowning as you tried to piece together the memory. “He’d clear away plates that didn’t really need to be cleared yet, or refill water glasses that were barely half-empty. And every time he came by, he’d linger for just a second too long. It was subtle, but… noticeable.”  

Spencer exchanged a quick glance with JJ before asking, “Can you describe him? Anything about his appearance that stood out?”  

You nodded, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focused on the image in your mind. “He was average height, maybe a little shorter than you,” you glanced at Spencer. “Dark hair, clean-shaven. He had this kind of… intense way of looking at people, like he was trying to figure them out.”  

Spencer scribbled furiously in his notebook, his pen moving so fast it almost blurred. “Do you remember if he wore anything unusual? Jewelry, a watch, anything like that?”  

You paused, biting your lip as you thought. “I… I think he had a tattoo on his wrist,” you said finally. “It was hard to see because of the uniform, but when he reached over to clear a plate, I noticed it. It looked like… a triangle, or something geometric.”  

“That’s good,” JJ said with a nod, giving you an encouraging smile. “That’s really helpful, Y/N.”  

But your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was still scribbling notes with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything unsaid passed between you.  

“Anything else you remember, no matter how small?” he asked softly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something deeper—something that felt almost personal.  

You shook your head slightly. “No, I think that’s it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now…” You trailed off, a shiver running down your spine at the realization of how close your group may have been to danger.  

Spencer nodded, his expression unreadable as he set his pen down. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  

JJ stood, glancing at her notes before giving you another reassuring smile. “We’ll follow up with the restaurant and see if anyone knows him. You’ve been really helpful, Y/N.”  

You nodded, rising from your chair, but your eyes lingered on Spencer for just a moment longer before you turned to leave the room. And as you walked back to your friends, you couldn’t help but feel like this encounter had stirred up more than just memories of the night—it had brought something long-buried between you and Spencer back to the surface.  

Before you could reach the room where your friends were waiting, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. The unexpected touch made you stop, turning instinctively.  

There he was—Spencer, standing just behind you, his face filled with an urgency that took your breath away. He looked like he was holding back a storm, his words spilling out before he could second-guess himself.  

“Can I see you before I leave?” he asked, his voice low but rushed, as if afraid you might say no.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind scrambling to process the request. And before you even realized it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, the word leaving your lips almost automatically.  

Relief flashed across Spencer’s face, but he didn’t linger. He simply gave you a small, grateful nod before turning back toward the team. You stood there for a second, trying to collect yourself, before heading back into the room with your friends.  

As soon as you sat down next to Aubrey, she leaned in, her sharp eyes scanning your face. ���Was that Spencer?” she asked in a hushed whisper, her voice filled with curiosity and concern.  

You nodded again, unable to bring yourself to speak.  

“Are you okay?” Aubrey pressed, her hand resting lightly on your arm.  

This time, you shook your head. The motion was small, but it felt monumental, like admitting the weight of everything that had just happened. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, the sharp pressure a weak attempt to distract yourself from the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.  

Aubrey frowned, her expression softening as she studied you. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

You shook your head again, swallowing hard as you tried to push the overwhelming feelings down. “Not yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Aubrey nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “Alright. But I’m here when you’re ready.”  

You gave her a faint smile, grateful for her understanding. But as you sat there, surrounded by your friends and the low hum of their conversations, your mind was elsewhere—focused on Spencer, and the inevitable conversation that now loomed on the horizon.  

—

Luckily, your information turned out to be exactly what the team needed. With Penelope’s tech skills and the restaurant staff’s confirmation, they were able to identify the unsub and locate Analise.  

The relief was almost overwhelming when the news came in: Analise was found unharmed, aside from the lingering effects of the drugs and the red marks on her wrists where she’d been bound. The man hadn’t had the chance to carry out his full plan—robbing her or doing worse—thanks to the swift intervention of the police and FBI.  

By the time everything was resolved, the authorities had cleared you and your friends to leave that same night. The long hours of tension melted away as you gathered your things, and your group began heading toward the precinct exit.  

You stuck close to Aubrey, practically glued to her side as you wrapped an arm around her waist. Her presence grounded you, the warmth and familiarity of her reassuring after everything you’d been through.  

“Finally,” Aubrey murmured as the two of you reached the doors, her tone light but laced with exhaustion.  

You nodded, tightening your hold on her as you pushed through the glass doors into the cool night air. But as you stepped outside, your eyes darted around instinctively, searching for a glimpse of Spencer.  

And there he was, standing just a short distance away, speaking with Morgan and Hotch. His back was to you, but even from where you stood, you could feel the weight of the moment.  

You immediately turned your head, your arm tightening around Aubrey as you kept moving. You didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk Spencer catching sight of you—or worse, calling out to you.  

Aubrey glanced down at you as the two of you walked quickly toward the car. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice steady despite her own obvious fatigue.  

“Yeah,” you whispered, though your grip on her waist betrayed your nerves.  

As you slid into the car, your heart still raced. The thought of seeing Spencer again—even after everything—left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a tiny, nagging part of you that wondered what would’ve happened if you’d let yourself stop.  

But for now, you were content to let an officer drive you home, the city lights blurring outside the window as you leaned against the seat, trying to process the night’s events—and the man who still had the power to shake you to your core.  

The incessant ringing of your phone jolted you awake, the sound cutting through the fog of your restless sleep. You groaned, squinting against the morning light as you reached for your phone on the nightstand.  

Your heart skipped a beat when you glanced at the screen. No name was displayed, just a number. But it was a number you could never forget, no matter how hard you’d tried.  

You had deleted Spencer’s contact months ago, telling yourself it was for the best, a necessary step in moving on. But his number was burned into your memory, a string of digits that you could recite as easily as your own name.  

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the answer button. The ringtone seemed louder, more insistent, as if demanding a decision.  

Your chest tightened, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. Why is he calling? What does he want? Can I even handle hearing his voice right now?  

But before you could overthink it any further, your thumb moved almost of its own accord, pressing the button and bringing the phone to your ear.  

“Hello?” you said softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.  

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make your heart race, and then you heard it—a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.  

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his tone cautious, almost tentative. “I… I’m sorry to call so early. I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”  

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s going on, Spencer?” you asked, your tone carefully neutral.  

He hesitated, and you could practically hear him piecing his words together. “I just… I couldn’t leave New York without talking to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not after last night. Not after seeing you again.”  

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.  

“I know this isn’t fair,” Spencer continued, his words tumbling out now, “but… can we talk? Just the two of us? Please?”  

You closed your eyes, leaning back against the headboard as you exhaled slowly. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if you were ready to reopen wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. But the sound of his voice, the raw emotion in it, made it impossible to say no.  

“Okay,” you said quietly. “When?”  

“Now?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope and hesitation. “I can come to you, or we can meet somewhere—whatever you’re comfortable with.”  

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, your mind still racing. “There’s a café a couple of blocks from me,” you said finally, giving him the address. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”  

“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.”  

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand. Part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend none of this was happening. But another part—the part that had never really let Spencer go—knew this was a conversation that was long overdue.  

—

November 2004

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice spoke from behind you, polite but a little unsure.  

You turned around, confused, to find a lanky man with slicked-back hair and glasses standing there, looking at you expectantly. He wore an awkward smile, his hands fidgeting slightly as he shifted on his feet.  

“Yes?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to place him.  

“If it’s no bother, we would really appreciate the check. We were just called into work,” he explained sheepishly, gesturing to a man sitting at the table behind him, who was watching the interaction with an amused grin.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Um,” you started, your tone hesitant, “I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”  

The man sitting across from him burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Nice going, Reid.”  

The one who had spoken—Reid, apparently—turned bright red, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologize. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to assume, I just—your outfit—it looks just like the uniforms the waitstaff are wearing!”  

You frowned, glancing down at your clothes—a crisp white blouse tucked into sleek black slacks. Then it clicked, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “Oh, wow,” you said, grinning at him. “That’s… actually kind of funny. I designed the uniforms, so I guess I subconsciously dressed accordingly.”  

Reid blinked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “You designed them?” he asked, his embarrassment giving way to genuine curiosity.  

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, glancing around the restaurant. “I work for the owner—well, freelance. They hired me to design uniforms that were professional but stylish.”  

“That’s… really impressive,” Reid said, his tone sincere as he adjusted his glasses. “They’re—um, they’re very nice. Clearly convincing,” he added, his cheeks still pink.  

The man at his table laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky she’s nice, kid. That could’ve gone way worse.”  

You smiled, brushing off the comment. “No harm done,” you said, waving a hand. Then, looking back at Reid, you added, “Just maybe double-check next time before you assume.”  

“Noted,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “And again, I’m really sorry.”  

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, shaking your head at the interaction. Little did you know, it was the beginning of something much bigger than a misunderstanding over a uniform.  

—

December 2008 – Present  

You sat at the small table in the café, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth with one hand while biting your thumb with the other. The café was quiet, the gentle hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine creating a soothing background. Still, your nerves were anything but calm.  

You hadn’t seen Spencer yet, but you felt his presence looming, the anticipation making your chest feel tight. Your mind raced with a million thoughts—what he would say, what you should say, how this meeting would go after all the time that had passed.  

“Excuse me, miss,” a familiar voice interrupted, laced with a soft, teasing tone. “You don’t happen to work here, do you?”  

Your head snapped up, and your lips parted in surprise, only for the tension in your chest to loosen when you saw him. Spencer stood there, looking both nervous and amused, his hands tucked awkwardly into his coat pockets. His hair was slightly tousled from the cold, and his glasses caught the soft glow of the café lights.  

You couldn’t help it—amusement took over as you remembered the very first time he had said those words to you. “Seriously?” you said, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to lead with that?”  

Spencer shrugged, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. “I figured it worked the first time,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes flickered to yours.  

Your heart stuttered at the look he gave you, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in 2005, standing in that restaurant, completely oblivious to what the future held.  

You shook your head, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Sit down, Reid,” you said, your tone light, though your voice still carried the weight of everything unsaid.  

Spencer moved carefully, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile moment between you. He slid into the chair, his hands resting on the table, fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve.  

“You remembered,” you said after a beat, unable to stop yourself.  

“Of course I did,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I remember everything about you.”  

The weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”  

Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe? “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”  

And just like that, the conversation you’d both been avoiding for years finally began.  

Spencer folded his hands on the table, his long fingers twitching slightly as though unsure of where to begin. He glanced down at the tablecloth before looking back up at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out right away.  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve never been one to struggle for words,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick in the air.  

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” His voice was soft, almost tentative.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—weighted with years of unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, and all the things neither of you had said when you had the chance.  

Spencer finally spoke, his voice low and earnest. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go.”  

Your heart clenched at his words, the directness of them catching you off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but he pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush, as though he’d been holding them back for too long.  

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I thought I was giving you the chance to live the life you deserved, to follow your dreams without me holding you back. But all I did was hurt you. And…” He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “I hurt myself too.”  

You blinked, stunned by the raw honesty in his tone. You hadn’t expected him to dive in so quickly, to say the things you’d spent so long wondering if he even felt.  

“Spencer,” you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you didn’t just hurt me. You made a decision for both of us without even asking how I felt. You thought you were protecting me, but you didn’t give me a choice.”  

He flinched slightly at your words, but he didn’t look away. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I know I handled it all wrong. I’ve replayed that night a thousand times in my head, and every time, I wish I’d done it differently. I wish I’d just… trusted you.”  

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his words stirring something deep within you. “You think I didn’t want to go? That I didn’t think about what it could’ve meant for my career? I stayed because I loved you, Spencer. You were my dream. Not New York. Not Aubrey. You.”  

Spencer’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. “And I threw it away,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t throw it away. You made a choice. We both did. And we have to live with that.”  

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it—that he would drop it and let you both walk away again.  

But then he looked up, and his eyes were filled with something fierce, something determined. “I don’t want to live with it,” he said firmly. “Not anymore. Not if there’s even the smallest chance I can fix this—fix us.”  

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung between you. You wanted to say something, to respond, but you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak.  

So instead, you just stared at him, waiting for him to keep going. And in that moment, Spencer Reid, the man who rarely hesitated to explain every detail, every fact, every statistic, did something unexpected.  

He waited too.  

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope, for any clue as to how you might respond. You could see the vulnerability etched into every line of his face, the desperation for you to believe him, to give him a chance.

“Spencer,” you began softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Fix us? There is no us anymore. You made that abundantly clear when you kicked me out of my home.”

Your words were sharp, cutting through the fragile hope that had been lingering in the air. Spencer flinched as if you’d physically struck him, his face falling with the weight of your statement. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to find the right words.

“I didn’t—” he started, but then stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I thought—”  

“You thought you knew what was best for me,” you interrupted, your tone more firm now as the hurt you’d buried for so long began to surface. “You didn’t even ask me how I felt. You made a decision for both of us and expected me to just accept it. And when I didn’t? When I tried to fight for us? You pushed me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Spencer said quickly, his voice cracking. “You still matter. I—I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you.”  

“Protecting me?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You weren’t protecting me, Spencer. You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d resent you, so instead, you pushed me out of your life completely. And guess what? It hurt just as much—maybe even more.”  

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it made your chest ache. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was afraid. I was terrified. Not just of you resenting me, but of… of failing you. Of not being enough. I convinced myself that letting you go was the selfless thing to do, but all I did was hurt you. And myself.”

You looked at him, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. Part of you wanted to lash out, to make him feel a fraction of the pain you’d carried for so long. But another part of you—a part you didn’t want to admit existed—still ached for him, still felt the pull of the man you’d once loved so deeply.  

“You can’t just come back now and expect to fix everything,” you said, your voice softer but no less firm. “It’s not that simple.”  

“I know,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s not. But I had to try. I couldn’t leave New York without telling you how I feel, without letting you know that I’m sorry—for everything.”  

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “And what happens after this, Spencer? What are you expecting? That I’ll just forget everything and we’ll go back to how things were?”  

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t expect that. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking as he added, “I just needed you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”  

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes—it was all too much.  

But so was the weight of everything that had happened, the scars that hadn’t fully healed.  

“I never stopped loving you either,” you said finally, your voice trembling again. The admission felt heavy, like a weight you had been carrying for far too long, now released.  

“Really?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to believe it.  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Well, it’s only been half a year, Spencer. I thought I was going to marry you. That doesn’t just go away.”  

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, it doesn’t.”  

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the quiet of the café wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the raw, unspoken emotions lingering between you.  

Then, Spencer shifted in his seat, his hands fumbling around in his bag as if he were searching for something. You watched him curiously, your heart pounding in your chest as he finally pulled out a small box.  

“What is that?” you choked out, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer held the box in his hand, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at you. “I bought this the day we went to the mall,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “When you asked me if I ever thought about marriage.” He paused, his fingers brushing over the edges of the box as if grounding himself. “When you went into the lingerie store, I went back and bought the ring you were staring at.”  

Your breath hitched, your mind racing. “How did you know?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.  

“I’m a profiler,” he said with a small, almost shy smile. “I know—knew you so well. It wasn’t hard to see which one caught your eye.”  

“It’s—the ring is in there right now?” you asked, your voice trembling.  

Spencer nodded, his expression cautious but hopeful. “Do you want to see it?” he asked tentatively, his fingers tightening slightly around the box.  

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, slowly, you nodded, unable to find the words to say anything else.  

Spencer opened the box, turning it toward you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.  

The ring was simple yet elegant—exactly the kind of style you’d always admired. A delicate band of platinum, with a perfectly cut diamond set in the center, surrounded by smaller stones that sparkled as if they held their own light.  

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, your eyes never leaving the ring.  

Spencer’s head snapped up, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he rushed out, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.  

“Yes,” you said again, louder this time, your gaze shifting from the ring to meet his wide, questioning eyes.  

“Yes… what?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t allow himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.  

You took a shaky breath, your emotions swelling and threatening to overflow. “I’ll marry you,” you said firmly, the words filling the space between you like a beacon.  

Spencer froze, his lips parting slightly as he processed what you’d just said. For a moment, he looked like he might cry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as his hand tightened around the small box.  

“You will?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of awe and disbelief.  

“Yes,” you said again, nodding for emphasis. “I love you, Spencer. I never stopped. And I don’t want to waste any more time pretending like I don’t.”  

Spencer’s hands trembled as he reached for yours, his grip warm and steady despite his obvious emotion. “I—I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, a nervous, breathless laugh escaping him.  

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your voice soft but certain. “Just… ask me.”  

Spencer blinked, his lips curving into the smallest, most genuine smile you’d seen in years. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slid out of his chair and knelt on one knee, still holding the box open.  

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”  

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you whispered, “Yes.”  

Spencer slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking as he did so, and when he stood, you launched yourself into his arms. He caught you easily, holding you tightly as you both laughed and cried, the weight of years of pain and longing finally lifting.  

In that small café, with the world around you fading into the background, the two of you found your way back to each other—against all odds, against all fears. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[muddyorbsblr]

when the feeling sinks in

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: dating era; a few months after 'one look and they'll know'

Summary: Ragnarok wrapped up filming and now you're back in your apartment, waking up a little too alone and feeling a little too lonely. You thought that you were the only one until you heard a knock on your door.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: language; mentions of alcohol use if you squint [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: slight angst; Tomathy enters his comforting bf era; Reader's a-plus premature timing

The chipper intro of your morning alarm taunted you today as the curtains drew open, bathing your room in the light of the sunrise. You felt conflicted, laying there in your bed. On the one hand, you didn't want to get up because you knew what awaited you was nothing but a long tiresome day of unpacking and cleaning your apartment, making the place livable again after being away for the last few months on set for Ragnarok. A pile of mail to open and checks to deposit and bills to pay, along with a considerably thick layer of dust on nearly every surface of your home, were all waiting for you to get your ass up out of bed and make this place seem like a home again.

On the other hand, you didn't quite want to stay in your bed, either. It felt hauntingly empty, a loneliness creeping its way through you as the words of the song filling up the room dared to mock you.

There is no way I'm looking for a boyfriend, there is no way I'm looking for a scene

So much for your adamant intent of not wanting or needing to be with anyone but yourself. After the last few months of feeling like you were living in some modern day fairytale where the 'plain Jane' girl entered into a whirlwind romance with the actor that has literally played princes and kings, the clock finally struck midnight.

And rather than being thrust rather harshly into reality, you were shoved back into it. Face down on the ground as soon as your plane hit the tarmac.

Now you were back in the bed you left all those months ago, painfully aware of what you were missing ever since you'd stubbornly decided that you weren't cut out for relationships all those years ago. The last few months saw your steady descent into becoming spoiled with affection, waking in Tom's arms, those sinfully skilled hands roaming your body as the sunlight touched your skin.

A decadent round of lovemaking before you even left the bed when your schedules permitted it.

You felt every bit like a princess when you were with him. Or in his words, a goddess. Now you were back to being a pumpkin and you needed to pick yourself up from the path you were spiraling down headfirst before you found yourself fully admitting to sentiments you swore you'd never feel again.

He must leave a trail of heartbroken women in his wake if he treated all his flings like that, you thought to yourself ruefully, your body whining and aching in places you didn't think they could as you sat up in your bed. Before you could even think about it, you reached for your phone and typed down the sentiment in a note, keeping it in a hidden folder that you for the most part did your best to never revisit once you'd placed something in there.

"Oh how you've ruined me for everyone else but you, Thomas William Hiddleston," you spoke out loud as you typed down the note, locking it away in a folder deep in your drive. You hoped that with putting away the note, the sentiment would be buried deep down as well.

You put your hair up in a bun, pulling on an old shirt and some sweats from your college days and started cleaning away at the house, putting your clothes from the set straight into the wash. The faintest scent of his cologne hit you as you tossed it into the washer, taking you straight back to your memory of one of the last times you saw each other, at the wrap party.

You stood at a little table with Bryan and Denise, nursing a strawberry lemonade with a splash of vodka, wincing the slightest bit whenever the liquor made its presence felt in the taste. "I said a splash," you grumbled, placing the drink atop the tray of the wait staff collecting drinks was holding. "Damn thing's probably fifty percent vodka."

"Hey hey there you three are!" Taika greeted you, pulling you all into a little group hug. "Making this has been a dream and a half, and I owe you and your team so much thanks, lil mayhem. I'm definitely calling you again when we start on the next one."

"Ooh, so Marvel's definitely getting you again, then, boss?" Denise quipped, excitement and a bit of alcohol reddening her cheeks and making her the comical picture of cherubic inebriation.

He shook his head with a wide smile that left you confused. "No," he answered her. "But a bit of positive thinking never hurt anyone, am I right?"

The song blaring on the speakers changed to a familiar beat from Zedd, your teammates and Taika all dragging you out into the dance floor with them as the words began to hit you like a freight train.

You are the piece of me I wish I didn't need

Instead of dwelling on the lyrics, you forced yourself to move your body to the beat, finding yourself even having fun despite the glimpses you'd caught of various members of the crew along with some members of the press openly flirting with Tom. Despite your words to him this morning, the sight of him still visibly moving forward so easily felt like a stab to the heart.

"Something about all good things ending eventually," your memories taunted you. "Thank you for giving me a good thing."

The song faded out to give way to the acoustic notes of that James Arthur song that you'd been hearing all over Spotify, and just as you were about to take your leave from the dance floor, you were spun into a familiar pair of arms. Suddenly the very eyes that you'd been trying to block out from your mind were staring down at you, a soft smile gracing those heartbreakingly handsome features.

Tom wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you in a secure hold as he ran the backs of his fingers along your cheek with his free hand. "May I have this dance, goddess?" He broke out into a brilliant blinding grin when you mutely nodded your head, placing your hand on his shoulder as he began to sway you to the beat of the song.

"You should know right now that I can't dance like this to save my life," you told him, unable to fight back the smile that stretched across your face as you looked at him.

"Neither can I," he answered you with a chuckle, a tenderness in his eyes that had you struggling to stay upright had he not been holding you up. "Perhaps we could find our way together."

The seething piercing gazes of the women around you began to steer your thoughts down a rather self-conscious route, the bitter scrutiny in their eyes as they looked at your simple navy blue skater dress that you got on sale back home. Meanwhile their clothes screamed designer; even if some of them might have to be extra careful tonight so that they could successfully return them with tags intact, at the moment all that mattered to them was that they were dressed better than you…and yet somehow you were the one dancing with the most handsome man in the room.

Their faces screamed with the incredulous question "Why her? She's nothing special."

"You know I don't think it's expressly polite for you to ignore all the other pretty girls in this party," you mumbled, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach as his gaze never left yours. As if he didn't even care about anyone else watching you. "They're practically shaking from itching to dance with you."

"They'll be left itching and wanting, then," he shot back, both of your breaking into a fit of chuckles from the thought. "And as for beautiful women…" He tilted your chin up to hold your gaze. "There's only one that I care about. And she's already in my arms."

"Smooth talking way too handsome for his own fucking good living breathing Disney Prince," you grumbled as you started your first load of laundry. You dragged your feet to the supply closet to grab a bunch of cleaning rags and start at your living room, feeling a slight satisfaction watching as the dust made its way off the various surfaces and you could finally start to see your home once again.

When night began to fall and you had to start turning on the lights throughout your apartment just so you could see and make your way around without bumping into any corners, you decided to order in some dinner. Mostly because your stomach was beginning to sound like a baby gremlin.

You were just about to press 'Order Now' on your screen when your doorbell rang. "Okay if that's my delivery they better not be charging me extra for psychic services, I haven't even pressed the damn button yet," you muttered, immediately feeling like you swallowed your tongue the second you opened the door.

It wasn't Postmates.

"Tom?" The air left your lungs as you uttered his name, refusing to believe what your eyes were seeing. Meanwhile the very same man with the oceanic eyes and god-like face and body that you were trying to block out of your mind was standing not even two feet in front of you, wearing the same smile that he had on his face like he just ran five laps around the studio.

His grin got wider as he breathed your name, running his gaze down your face and what parts of your body weren't covered by the door.

"What--What're you uhh…doing here?"

He became a bit sheepish, running his hand through his short dark blond curls, tilting his head down before looking at you with the most endearing boyish expression. "I erm…If I'm being completely honest I'm here because I wanted to see you." His gaze darted to beyond your door before landing on your face again. "May I come in?"

You immediately snapped out of your stupor, feeling a complete fool for forgetting your manners. "Oh! Uhh of course." You opened your door wider to let him step through, suddenly feeling rather inadequate in your own home, feeling like your college sweats didn't measure up to his no doubt designer threads. "Sorry for the mess," you mumbled, waving your hand in the direction of the insides of your house, then at yourself. "I was cleaning up since I haven't been home in months and I wasn't expecting company--"

Any lame apology for the frumpy way you looked died in a muffled squeak at the back of your throat when Tom pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours. You could practically feel yourself melting more and more into his embrace with every brush of his lips.

"I've missed you, goddess," he sighed into your skin. "Last night I went to bed alone and it felt so…empty." He continued to press tender kisses to your cheek, working his way up to your forehead. "So I hopped on the next flight here. To you. I just needed to see you again."

You could feel a lump at your throat from processing his words, the backs of your eyes prickling with tears from realizing that he felt the same way you did when you woke up this morning. "I know the feeling," you managed to choke out as he kissed his way back to your lips. "I uhh…I was just about to order dinner. If you're willing to wait about…an hour? You could uhm…join me? I mean if you don't already have--"

He kissed you again, cutting you off from rambling yourself into an embarrassing grave. He probably had prettier girls ask him out way better than you just did. "You've been exerting yourself all day, you should rest. How about I go and pick something up for us, and you just focus on unwinding and relaxing from the day you had?"

A warmth spread all over your body as he held you, nuzzling your noses together as he ran his fingers up and down the length of your spine. It had you feeling so content that every part of you wanted nothing more than to ignore the panic settling deep inside you that you were feeling too comfortable around him, something you swore to never be around any man ever since you vowed to stick to one so far undisputed belief in your life.

The most blissful moments have the most catastrophic ends.

And at this moment you felt a little too much of that bliss.

"I'd like that," you breathed out, unable to help the way your mouth stretched into a way too contented grin as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, touching his nose to yours again before he headed for the door.

"I'll be half an hour tops," he said softly, looking over you again with that all too soft gaze. "Do what you need to wrap up for the day and unwind. I'll call you when I'm nearly home--I mean, when I'm nearly here."

You couldn't speak through the lump in your throat, your heart doing backflips in your chest from his slip of the tongue. All you could do was give him a smile, waving him off. You couldn't even tell if your sentiment for him to be careful out there was audible enough to reach him.

Home. You didn't hear him wrong. He called your apartment home.

By the time you finished with your shower, the timer you set for 27 minutes was still a few minutes out from ringing, giving you just enough time to slather on some lotion and spritz on some perfume, considering that the flight along with the amount of cleaning you just did today had you feeling far from fresh. Even after the hot shower.

And also the fact that the embodiment of the phrase 'sex on legs' was on his way back to you with dinner.

By the time his name was flashing on your screen, you were already at your kitchen counter, sorting out your mail from the last few months, already writing your todo list for the next morning involving a trip to the bank to cash in some checks that came in. You had the naughty little thought of writing "Tom" as an item on that list, but ultimately decided against it.

"I'm not optimistic, let alone presumptuous," you grumbled, putting the pen away when you heard the doorbell ring again. What greeted you on the other side was Tom beaming at you with hands full of bags, already putting your naughtier thoughts front and center and on hyperdrive with how his muscles bulged under his sweater from the weight of them.

"Wasn't sure what drink you'd prefer," he said in an exhale as he put the bags down, taking out bottles as he listed them off to you. "So I got us a bit of a selection. Some sparkling water…some soda…and just in case…" He let out a bit of a chuckle before pulling out the last bottle, getting a giggle out of you as well the second you eyed the bold serif letters and the star on the gold label. "Champagne."

You started moving towards the cupboard where you stored your glasses when he crossed the distance between you two, placing his hands on your waist to stop you. "What're you--"

"I figured with the day you've had, you wouldn't want to do a single second of clean up so…" He darted over to the other side of the counter again, pulling out a small pack of paper cups. "I got these."

Oh dear fuck, he actually thought of everything, you internally swooned, indulging yourself in basking in another blissful moment that he'd somehow known to give you after being here for less than an hour.

"Also…" He reached into a bag that made a clinking sound when he set it down, pulling out a small vase that held three deep red carnations. "I got these for you. I know you're not one for those big garish arrangements, so I thought you might like these. They might go well in the living area, by your sofa, or also here--"

"They're perfect," you blurted out, not even bothering to hold back the smile that took over your face. You're perfect. I love you.

He stilled in his movements, looking at you with wide, shining, puppy-like eyes. "What did you say?" he breathed out, slowly starting to make his way to you.

Shit did I say that out loud?! "What? I didn't--I didn't say--" You couldn't breathe. Did you actually say those words out loud? Your knees felt weak. You clung to the countertop to stand upright, bracing yourself for the usual spiel.

You're a whole smoke show and all but I hope you didn't get the wrong idea. This was just for fun, where did that come from, sweet thing? I like you and all that, but I wanna keep this a bit more open, you know? We're young and I don't think I wanna tie myself down to just you.

Knowing Tom, he'd probably say something that stung less in the moment but when you actually took a second to let it sink in…the devastation would be on another level. He'd break you. And all you could do was brace for impact.

Once he'd crossed the distance between you two, he framed your face in his hands, those wide puppy-like eyes now seeing the sheer panic in yours, his expression betraying your expectations. He wasn't looking at you with a condescension and smugness that screamed of someone stroking his ego getting a girl to blurt out that cursed sentiment at a ridiculously early point in the relationship.

And saying it first, too.

But instead he looked at you with an increasing concern as your vision began to blur from the tears in your eyes. He pressed kisses up and down the side of your face, guiding you through your breathing so that you'd stop hyperventilating like the air was too thin to breathe in properly. "Oh, sweet goddess," he sighed against your skin, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "You weren't quite ready to say those words yet, were you?"

"I didn't say anything," you whimpered lamely, making him lean away to get a look at you, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes.

"Alright, it's alright," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You're not quite ready to hear those words yet, either. That's alright." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace that deceptively felt too much like home, kissing the top of your head.

It took a good few moments before you could bring yourself to return his embrace, hearing a sound of relief from him when you finally did. "I'm sorry it's just--I'm not--"

"Shhh shhh, there's no need for apologies," he whispered into your hair. "I just want you to know something." He tucked his hand under your chin, tilting your head and kissing you again before continuing. "I want you to know how that I am already beyond happy that you share your time and your body with me, and I'll never take that for granted. And if the day ever comes that you wish to give me your heart, I want you to know that it will be safe with me. Because those words that you didn't say earlier? I feel the same way."

The violent fluttering in your stomach was back. "Tom, I--"

"When you're ready, and only when you're ready, I'll be here. I'll always be here." He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his nose across yours. "We don't have to talk about it."

You eyed him with incredulity. How could you both just go on pretending that you didn't just stupidly blurt out those words? How could he be okay with that?

"Right now I am more than happy to simply spend the night having a lovely dinner with my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" you repeated, breathless. After the level of batshit that was the last few minutes, he wanted to keep this going?

"Only if you wish to be," he said in a rush, bewildering you when you saw a similar type of panic enter his eyes. "I'd--I'd be fine if you don't want to put a label yet I just…" He sighed, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before tightening his arms around you. "I didn't want what we started to end just because we stopped working together."

"I…" Your words caught in your throat, finding it near impossible to even form anything coherent while he continued to press kisses to your cheek and temple. "I haven't been anyone's girlfriend in so long," you said in a rush. "And the last time, it--it burned me."

That last time scarred you so badly you began to see the appeal of the 'eternal bachelorette' lifestyle. Because much as it was so tempting to get lost in the feeling of being pursued and courted, you knew the downfall when eventually they would grow complacent. When they started seeing you as something 'routine'.

When they want the thrill of the chase again, mixed in with the thrill of betrayal.

You barely had anything left in you to even attempt going into that adventure one more time. And yet you already knew that you were going to. For him.

Because you loved him. You even said it yourself with your a-plus timing that was so premature that teenage boys would be embarrassed for you.

"The last thing I would ever want is to hurt you," he whispered, his breath warming your face as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "All I want at this moment is to know that tomorrow morning I wake up holding you again."

You could hear how every single voice that gave you a reason to not take another chance on him fade away into a dull murmur in the back of your head. His eyes shone with all the barely-there restraint, as if he had more words ready. As if he was trying to stop himself from pleading his case to you.

One last shot, you could hear the tired voice in you give in. If this goes down the drain, I don't ever wanna try again. I won't have enough heart to break if he ever decides he's done with me.

"Girlfriend," you tested the word, his breath hitching when he heard you say it. "I kinda like the sound of that."

Getting used to a new timezone wasn't quite something that got easier with time, which was how Tom ended up waking earlier than intended, warm contentment washing over him once he felt you in his arms. He shuffled closer to you, stifling any sound that might come out of him when you met him halfway, your naked body pressing against his own and letting out a little contented sigh when skin met skin.

He still couldn't quite believe what happened last night, remembering the way his heart jumped in his chest when he heard the whispered words from you. It wasn't his imagination or his daydreams getting the better of him, you said them. I love you. And he wanted nothing more than anything to scoop you up into his arms and say the words back.

But the panic in your eyes once you realized what you'd said tore at him and stopped him from doing just about anything. There was a hurt that painted your face last night as if you were bracing for impact. Like you were just preparing yourself for incoming pain. And the realization that you weren't ready to say the words or maybe even hear them had him pushing the words back down his throat with every ounce of strength he had.

The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you. The second to last was to scare you off.

Until that day came he would cling to the little things, find ways to show you his affections if hearing them wasn't quite yet an option. For now he was more than happy knowing that your relationship was far from over; in fact, it was safe to say that it was just beginning.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, kissing a trail up to your ear and smiling against your skin at the little whimpers and moans that escaped you with every kiss. "Good morning, goddess," he whispered, pressing a kiss below your ear when you stirred in his arms.

"Hmmph…mooring," you slurred, stirring in his arms, your voice still rather thick with sleep.

"I'm going to go out and see what I can get us for breakfast. Any special orders? Cravings?"

It took a few seconds before he could make complete sense of what you murmured, your words jumbled together. "French toast and bacon, please."

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, his heart skipping a beat when he felt your cheek rise in a smile against his lips. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'll wake you when I'm home." There it was again. That slip of the tongue that had him grinning ear to ear whenever he said it.

Home. It wasn't a hotel room in a hotel room in Sydney. Or Atlanta. It wasn't his house back in London. Or his mum's.

It wasn't even here, in an apartment in Los Angeles.

It was you.

He could be camping out in the depths of the woods folding himself into a tent, but if he was sharing that tent with you, then he was home.

And if his realization already had his heart behaving erratically, your next words had it going on overdrive. "Okay, be careful. I love you."

He waved a hand in front of your face. No reaction. Your guards weren't fully up because you were barely even half-awake. He decided to go for it, hoping that somehow even through your sleep-laden mind, his message would reach you.

"I love you, too."

A/N: In hindsight, if I knew that this was gonna turn into a whole series/collection, I would've named it better 😂 Anyways, welcome to the first 'chapter' in the 'said it first' arc! We've seen these two blorbos in their happy in love era with the Soccer Aid Chronicles as well as their Kinktober shot, but we haven't ever really seen anything from them that resembled angst…Well that's because that era went down early on in their relationship. Like in the first few months early on, and it really stems from Reader and her baggage making it a whole ass journey to say "I love you" without wanting to curl up in a hole she buried for herself.

This arc will have 5 entries…at least that's what my notes said, but let's see where my writer brain takes us 😂

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[buckyispunk]

Falling

Aloha Chapter Three~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N)

read previous parts here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: The events of Ocean Blue from Bucky's perspective, aka Bucky fights to win you back.

A/N: So so soooo sorry for the longer-than-expected wait everyone! Thank you to all who have been sticking it out with me! I hope this chapter makes up for it! Also - discontinuing tags after this chapter, follow @buckyispunkwrites and turn on notifs!!

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, discussion of unhealthy relationships, slight overstimulation, dom!Bucky, drinking, insecure reader, please lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 4.6k

“Dude,” Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder, “I’m sure she’ll be out soon, you don’t have to keep staring at the door.”

Bucky reverts his attention to his friends, who are now laughing at his infatuated state. He debates for a second whether or not it’s worth it to think of a clever comeback, but he can’t bring himself to care enough. All Bucky cares about is when he’ll next be able to hear your laugh and watch the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight. All he cares about right now is being with you. 

And that scares Bucky. Absolutely terrifies him. The last time Bucky felt this way about someone, she betrayed every ounce of trust he ever put in her and Bucky had wound up wishing he never even met her in the first place. But even though he’s only known you a few days, something tells Bucky you’re nothing like his ex. 

All he manages is a mumbled shut up. 

He turns from his friends to go order another round, noting that Sam and Steve’s bottles are almost empty as well. As he leans against the bar waiting for the bartender, he feels a tap on his shoulder.

Bucky grins as he turns around. 

“Been waiting for you, do-”

He cuts himself off when he realizes it’s not you he’s talking to, but some blonde woman he doesn’t recognize. 

“Sorry,” he shakes his head, “thought you were someone else,” he explains, smile disappearing from his face. 

“No worries,” she flases her white teeth at him, “I actually think your friend over there is kinda cute. The one that hasn’t stopped laughing for the last five minutes.”

Bucky sighs, relieved that the woman isn’t hitting on him. He’s never been great at rejecting people. 

“Sam’s definitely something,” Bucky tilts his head in amusement.

“I was gonna buy him a drink, what does he like? Couldn’t see his bottle from where I’m sitting.”

“I was just ordering us another round, I’ll just give you his.”

Bucky turns back to the bartender and orders three beers for him and his friends.

“Thanks. Now let’s just hope he doesn’t fall out of his chair again when I give it to him.”

Bucky laughs as he remembers when, a few minutes ago, Sam had fallen to the ground laughing at Steve’s insistence that the Giants are super bowl bound this year. In that moment, as he listened to Sam’s hysterical laughter and Steve’s continued argument, he found himself wondering whether you’d be laughing along with Sam or if you were a die-hard Giants fan, like Steve. 

He’s realized there’s so many things he doesn’t know about you: your favorite kind of flower, how you spend your time on rainy Sundays, where you grew up, whether you eat pumpkin or apple pie on Thanksgiving. And this realization has sparked an endless curiosity in Bucky. He has a sudden urge to ask you every possible question he can think of and then memorize each and every answer you tell him until he’s familiarized himself with every nook and cranny of your beautiful mind. 

The bartender sets the drinks on the bar, snapping Bucky out of his trance. 

“Have at it,” Bucky hands the woman the beer and she heads toward their seats. 

Sam and Steve usually have no trouble finding women wherever the three of them go. Occasionally Bucky would get hit on at the bar or at a ball game, usually only indulging them for a minute or two before escaping to the bathroom. He had gone on a few dates over the years, but those only discouraged him.

One time his date had gotten so drunk that Bucky had to practically carry her to her door, where she then invited Bucky inside with clear intentions - an offer which Bucky had politely declined, of course. The girl after that had looked up from her phone no more than five times throughout the night, making halfhearted conversation as she scrolled through social media before thanking Bucky for dinner and ordering an Uber home. Needless to say, Bucky hasn’t had the best dating experiences since he’s been stateside. 

Sam, on the otherhand, has a whole folder on his phone filled with different dating apps - Kinder? Tumble? - he doesn’t remember what they’re called. For the life of him, Bucky can’t understand the appeal of swiping through woman after woman and judging them based off of a couple of pictures. Cliches be damned, he needs the butterflies in his stomach that he can’t seem to get rid of when he looks into a girl’s eyes for the first time, testing her name out on his lips, the involuntary grin on his face after making her blush, the excitement of trying to earn her phone number so he can ask her out. He wants a Hallmark-esque story to tell about how he met his future wife. 

At that, Bucky’s thoughts reflexively drift back to you and he turns to eye the door again. Seeing no sign of you, he lets out a sigh and heads back toward his friends. He sees the woman all but clinging onto Sam, who doesn’t mind one bit - if the grin on his face is anything to go by. Bucky hands Steve his beer and sits, passing the time discussing football with Steve. 

Another twenty or so minutes go by before Bucky gets sick of watching Sam not-so-discreetly exchange dirty talk with the woman. Bucky finishes his beer and stands up to leave once Steve heads to the bathroom. Sam doesn’t see Bucky walk away - his tongue is too deep into the woman’s mouth for him to notice anything else. 

Bucky heads toward the hotel, beginning to get worried about you. He gets into the elevator and presses the 5. Bucky doesn’t even notice the way he nervously taps his foot as the elevator climbs to your floor. He makes his way to your room and raises his hand, rapping his knuckles against the thick wood.

No answer.

He waits a few seconds before knocking again, harder.

Bucky feels his heart rate pick up ever so slightly when he calls your name and still doesn’t hear a response. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to call you and stops suddenly, cursing himself under his breath.

He’d never even gotten your phone number. 

Fuck.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and his fingers brush aroom key. Your room key.

You had given him your room key earlier. 

“Are you in there, doll? If you want me to go away then just say so. Promise I won’t be upset, sweetheart, just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He knocks one last time and pulls the key card out to unlock the door. 

“I’m coming in, doll.”

He cautiously steps into your room, calling out your name again. He does a quick scan of the bedroom and the bathroom before concluding that you’re not there. 

As he heads back down to the lobby, he realizes he’s more frantic than he has any right to be. You’re not his to worry about. You’re not his to take care of. You’re not his. But he can figure that out later. Right now, he needs to make sure you’re okay. 

He walks through the lobby and the gift shop racking his brain for anything he could have done to upset you. You seemed understanding when he left you in your room. Maybe you felt rejected when he declined your offer to shower with you? If only you’d known how hard it was for him to say no to you, how his self-control almost hadn’t been strong enough. 

He rounds the corner to the hotel bar and instantly feels a weight lift off of his shoulders when he sees you sitting at the bar, wearing the Hawiian shirt that mirrors his own. Bucky makes his way across the room in quick strides.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay?” He places his hand on your shoulder and you turn to look at him. 

Any relief Bucky had felt just moments ago is gone as soon as he notices your tear-streaked face and watery eyes. He instantly reaches a gentle hand out to cup your face, which you promptly smack away.

Bucky raises his hands in the air, wanting to show that he isn’t a threat. A distressed and confused expression makes its way across Bucky’s face as his mind begins to race. He immediatley searches his memory again for what he could have done to upset you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, ready to come up with a solution; ready to console you; ready to do everything in his power to take your pain away. This is the first time Bucky’s seen you this upset, and in this moment he decides he’ll do his damndest to make sure he never sees you this upset again. 

“Fuck off, Barnes,” you scoff, turning back towards the bar and downing the last of your drink.

Bucky stands with a dumbfounded look on his face, hands frozen in the air. Determined to make sure you’re okay, Bucky takes a seat next to you while you order another drink. 

“Doll, what happened?” 

Bucky feels as if his heart is about to pound out of his chest. It’s physically hurting him to see you like this, and it hurts him even more knowing that, based off your hostility towards him, it might be his fault. 

“Did I do something, sweetheart?”

You turn to Bucky, eyes lit with what Bucky can only describe as rage. 

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask that girl you were buying a drink for at the bar,” you scoff, an incredulous smirk on your face as the bartender places a fresh drink in front of you.

Bucky feels his whole body go tense at your words. His eyes close as he sucks in a strained breath, realizing how it must have looked if you had seen the interaction from afar. 

“Please, let me explain. It wasn’t what it looked like, I promise.” 

“Yeah right, James. Was that not you buying a drink for a fucking supermodel out there? Maybe it was your doppelganger out there that was laughing with her? I’m sure you weren’t trying to get in her pants. I’m sure it couldn’t have been the fact that there’s a hundred better-looking, more interesting women at this resort right now. I’m sure it wasn’t that you got what you wanted from me an-”

“Enough,” Bucky’s stern tone cuts you off. 

He looks around and sees the attention your little spat has drawn. He softly says your name, ocean blue eyes boring into your own, pleading. 

“Please, doll, let’s talk. Can we get out of here?”

He watches you contemplate for a moment before responding. Bucky’s eyes may have softened your resolution because you give in.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out, but that’s all I’m promising.”

“Of course,” Bucky nods enthusiastically as he stands from his chair, “if you still want nothing to do with me after I explain myself then I won’t bother you anymore. Swear.”

Bucky watches as you attempt to hop down from your barstool in your drunken state. You barely land on your feet, stumbling forward. Bucky reaches out instinctively, wrapping his hands around your forearms before you land face first on the hard floor. 

“Careful, honey.”

You remove your arms from his grasp and head towards the lobby, Bucky following behind you. Bucky stops you with a light hand on your shoulder in front of the gift shop.

“Hey can you wait right here for a second?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, James?”

Bucky tries to ignore the twinge of pain he feels as you call him by his first name again. 

“Please, just trust me. I’ll be back in one minute, just sit right here.”

He directs you to a couch before going into the hotel’s little store. Bucky tries to calm himself down as he walkes toward the little fridge and grabs a bottle of water. He struggles to wrap his head around that fact that the two of you went from playing football and scuba diving earlier today to him having to beg to talk to you. 

He tries his best to be polite when the cashier asks him about his night, meanwhile he can’t shake the image of your devastated eyes at the bar. He couldn’t let you go on thinking he’d do that to you. Couldn’t let you go on thinking that he would use you and throw you aside like that. 

After he pays, he grabs the water bottle and thanks his lucky stars when you’re still sitting where he left you.

“Drink this please, doll.” He extends the water bottle.

He’s expecting you to put up a fight, but to his surprise, you snatch the bottle from him and down half of it in one go.

“Good girl.”

Bucky doesn’t notice the effect his words have on you, even in your outraged state. 

“Let’s go outside.”

Bucky’s hand hovers over your lower back as you walk, ready to reach out and steady you in case you stumble. Bucky guides you to the beach, almost empty at this hour. When you’re far enough away from the few people scattered around, Bucky plops down onto the sand and reaches a hand up to help you down next to him. 

After you sit, Bucky keeps a lose grip on your hand. When you don’t make any attempts to pull it away, he tightens his grip and pulls your joint hands to rest on his thigh.

Bucky takes a deep breath before beginning. 

“After I left you in your room, I went down to meet Sam and Steve at the bar. At one point, I got up to get everyone another round of drinks. That’s when that woman approached me. I was afraid she was going to hit on me at first, and if she had, believe me, I would have turned her down.”

“She wasn’t hitting on you?”

“No, sweetheart, she told me she thought Sam was cute. She wanted to buy him a drink and didn’t know what to get him, so I just gave her the beer I had bought for Sam and let her give it to him. She took the beer over and was sitting with Sam when I got back. For the most part, her and Sam were talking and kissing while me and Steve tried our best to ignore them. Eventually, Steve got up to go to the bathroom and I came to look for you because I had no desire to be around them any longer and I was worried about you.”

“Oh. So you and her weren’t flirting? You didn’t buy the drink for her?”

“‘course not doll.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky feels the tension seep out of his bones when you call him ‘Buck’ instead of ‘James’. 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sorry for how that looked. And even more, I’m sorry that you thought I’d ever do that to you. I would never use you like that then just move on to another girl like it never happened. Besides, I haven’t even begun to get I want from you, honey.” 

“Huh?”

“Earlier you said I’d  just taken what I wanted from you. That’s not true.”

Bucky won’t have everything he wants from you until you know that being able to spend these last few days with you has made him feel like the luckiest man alive. Until he’s convinced you that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. Until he’s able to help you overcome all those unwarranted insecurities stupid fucking Brock put in your head. Until you’re his. 

Bucky’s afraid to say all of this out loud, both because he doesn’t want to scare you off and because he’s not ready to admit to himself how quickly and deeply he fell for you. So instead, he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to it. 

Almost as if you understand, you don’t press the topic, just let out a little sigh at the feeling of Bucky’s soft lips on your skin. 

“I really am sorry though, Buck. I overreacted. I guess I just thought you got bored of me and decided to leave, like Brock. Besides, it’s not like we’re exclusive. I mean we hardly know each other, it’s not my place to tell you what you can or can’t do with other women.”

“Doll, I wouldn’t waste time with other women when we’ve only got a few more days here. I’d spend every second of my time left here with you if I could,” Bucky rubs his thumb along your hand, hoping that you believe him. “Listen closely. I understand why you got upset. It looked bad. Also, Brock is quite possibly the dumbest man on the planet for having someone as fucking perfect as you and ‘getting bored’. I don’t know how you put up with that undeserving piece of shit for so long. You deserve to be fucking worshipped, don’t ever settle for anything less.”

“Thank you, Bucky,” he doesn’t miss the way your eyes start to water again at his words.

“Promise me, doll.”

“Promise what?”

“Promise me that you’ll never settle for anything less.”

Though the thought of you being with anyone else at all pains Bucky - he knows it shouldn’t -, he needs to know that no matter who you end up with after you leave Hawaii, you’re being treated right. 

You hesitate for only a moment before responding.

“I promise, Buck.”

“So,” Bucky braces himself, “are we okay? If you want nothing to do with me, like I said before, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Yeah, Bucky” your lips curl into a gentle smile, “we’re okay.”

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief when you scoot yourself closer to him and lean against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you tight, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Good. Now drink the rest of your water, sweetheart.”

Bucky uncaps the bottle and hands it to you. You sip on the water and Bucky feels at peace for the first time in hours, with you in his arms and the waves crashing onto the sand in front of him. He could stay here forever, he thinks. It’d give him plenty of time to ask you all those questions. Before he can get the chance, though, he feels you shiver. 

“Shit, honey, are you cold?”

Bucky had been too preoccupied thinking to notice the breeze blowing against the two of you. 

“Let’s go back,” he doesn’t wait for an answer from you before standing and helping you to your feet. 

As soon as you stand, you interlace Bucky’s fingers with your own and the two of you make your way back to the hotel. You seem to be walking a lot more steady now, the bottle of water and time spent on the beach having sobered you up.

Bucky fills the walk back with apologies for hurting you and you reply with your own apologies for jumping to conclusions. By the time the two of you reach your floor, you agree to leave the events of the night behind you and move on.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Bucky questions, getting ready to say goodnight and turn toward his room.

Your response surprises Bucky.

“Do you want to come back to my room?” you smirk at Bucky and begin to run your hand up his forearm.

“Are you sure, doll? We don’t need to do anything.”

After everything that’s happened today, the last thing Bucky wants to do is make you feel like you’re being used. He needs you to know he’s spending time with you for the right reasons. 

“I want to if you do, Buck.”

“Okay, but only if you’re certain.”

Bucky wouldn’t even be considering it if he didn’t think all the alcohol had worn off, but he hasn’t seen any signs of intoxication since the walk to the beach.

“You made me a promise in the dressing room.”

Bucky’s eyes darken as he recalls you getting on your knees for him in the hotel gift shop earlier. 

“I did, didn’t I?” 

Bucky leads the two of you to your room and unlocks it with the key card he still has. 

“Can’t leave me hanging, Bucky.”

He’s sure you’re more than ready for some attention after he had edged you.

“You’re right about that baby.” he opens the door and walks in behind you.

Bucky can tell by the way you stand awkwardly in front of the bed, you’re waiting for him to give you an order. The realization makes his dick jump in his boxers. He typically prefered to be dominant in bed, and he’s grateful for the way you seem so eager to submit and let him take the reigns. 

“Listen, doll, tonight is all about you. You were so good for me today. You did perfect and you earned your reward.”

Even if he didn’t actually do anything wrong, Bucky can’t help but feel responsible for the tears you shed today. He wants to rid the image of your watery eyes staring at him with hate from his mind and replace it with one of your face scrunched up in pleasure as you scream him name. 

He needs to make it up to you. 

Bucky pulls his shirt over his head as he stalks toward you, throwing it on the floor. 

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed.”

Bucky does nothing to hide the ravenous look in his eyes as he watches you undress, he just palms his rapidly growing erection. He lets out a low curse when you expose your breasts to him. You remove your shorts, then look up to Bucky with a questioning look as you thumb the waistband of your panties.

“All of it, doll.”

You pull the fabric down your legs and lay back on the bed, waiting for Bucky’s next move. 

Bucky allows himself to revel in this moment only for a second - you spread naked on the bed, waiting for him with desperate,  pleading eyes - before he reminds himself that he’s supposed to be making it up to you right now.

Bucky stands by the edge of the bed and grabs your ankles. He drags your body down the bed with ease until your hips are on the end of the bed, legs hanging over the side. Bucky kneels down onto the floor, face level with your center.

Bucky is only slightly shocked at how wet your core is. He can’t help the groan that escapes him as he watches your slick pool out. 

“Fuck, doll. You’re killing me here.”

You buck your hips up into the air seeking any sort of relief and Bucky throws your legs around his shoulders. He doesn’t even give you a chance to beg, he dives right in. He laps up the wetness that has escaped from your pussy before suckling your clit into his mouth and tonguing it. 

You let out a shriek and it only spurs Bucky on. 

He alternates between fucking his tongue into you and suctioning your clit between his full, pink lips. 

“Fu- Bucky! I’m cl- oh god- I’m close!” Bucky thinks that he could spend the rest of his life down here, on his knees for you, if you continue making sounds like that. 

He grips your thighs around his head, fingers almost bruising. He rapidly flicks his tongue over your clit and you come with a moan that Bucky thinks may be the second-best thing he’s ever heard - number one being your laugh, of course. 

Bucky returns to your hole to drink up all of your release. He listens to your gasps as you ride out your high, hips bucking into his face. 

“Okay, Buck, it’s- fuck- it’s too much, baby,” you try to pry your legs open around his head but his grip is unrelenting.

Bucky lifts his mouth off of you just long enough to say, “Not yet, honey. I want one more,” before he reattatches his mouth to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He meant it when he said he could stay down here forever. He pays no mind to his stiff knees - sore from the hard floor, or the wet spot formed on his boxers from his leaking dick. He wants you to forget about all the pain you felt today, wants to eat you out until all you know is pleasure, until the only word your mouth is able to form is his name. 

“Holy fu-ahh,” you grab the comforter beneath you for dear life.

“You can do it, doll. Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

Bucky brings a hand up inbetween your legs and slips two fingers into your soaked pussy with no resistence. 

“So fucking soaked baby. This little pussy really was desperate for me, huh?”

He curls his fingers until he feels that spongy spot inside you and continues brushing up against it when he hears your moans. 

“Yes, Bucky! Right there, please!”

“No need, to beg tonight doll. I know exactly what you want and I’m gonna give it to you.”

Bucky sucks your mouth into his clit and ever so gently scrapes it with his teeth, eliciting a borderline pornographic moan of his name from you. He continues curling his fingers and focusing his mouth on your clit.

You don’t give him a verbal warning, but Bucky knows you’re about to come undone again by your breathing and the way you’re squeezing his fingers so tight he’s afraid you’ll push them out. He eats you through it, fucking you on his digits as you moan and gasp for breath. 

He pulls his hand from your core and fucks you with his tongue until you start to whine from overstimulation and only then does he pull away, rising to his feet. 

“Did so fucking perfect for me, baby,” he praises, “I’ll be right back, promise.”

He bends down and places a kiss on your damp forehead, and heads for the bathroom. Bucky is reminded of his hard-on when his zipper presses against it rather uncomfortably. He shucks off his pants and shoes on the way to the bathroom. 

He grabs a washcloth and dampens it in the sink with warm water, and returns to you in his boxers. He gets back down onto his knees and spreads your legs. He drags the warm cloth through your folds, cleaning up the mixture of his spit and your arousal. Once he’s done the best he can, careful to avoid your oversensitive clit, he presses a kiss to the top of your mound. 

He stands and throws the washcloth into the pile with the rest of the dirty clothes. 

“Tired, doll?” Bucky fights back a laugh at the way your eyelids droop, struggling to stay open. 

“No, Buck, lemme take care of you,” he sees your eyes drop to his boxers.

“Not a chance, honey. Told you tonight was all about you. Time for bed,” he smiles fondly at your attempt to take care of him.

You put up a brief fight, but Bucky manages to get you under the covers and climbs in next to you. You immediately curl into his chest when he’s beside you and Bucky’s thankful you can’t see the grin on his face. 

He brings a hand to your hair and smoothes it down. 

“Goodnight, angel.”

The only response Bucky gets from you is the light sound of your breaths, hot against his chest. 

Once he’s positive you’re asleep, he allows himself to admit out loud, “I think I’m falling for you, doll.”

To be continued...

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[lucid-loves]

Anon+ Requests: Come a Little Closer Part 2 (One Shot)

Pairing: Ghost x 141!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 6.6k, Second part to a One-Shot

CW: strong language, fluff, bullying, slight mention of violence, one-shot, clear attraction, reader POV and Ghost POV, Minors DNI, EXPLICIT SMUT, P in V, making out, oral, teasing, edging, rough sex, raw sex, protected sex (IUD)

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: You have just joined the 141 and getting to know the boys has been a lot of fun. The only one that you seem to be having trouble getting close to is Ghost. It doesn’t stop you from having a crush on him or trying to catch his attention any chance you get. 

Part Synopsis: Ghost makes efforts to make you feel better after learning about your harrassment. This includes getting closer to you, showering you with affection, and destroying the lives of your bullies. Feelings are finally confronted after a meeting for a new mission, leading to the both of you to indulge as much as you can before deployment.

Part 1 ~ Part 2

You woke up in an empty bed, feeling well rested, cozy, and warm. Your senses first registered that familiar scent you fell in love with, reminding you of where you were. An involuntary grin crept along your face. There was something about waking up in Ghost’s bed, even if he wasn’t there when you did wake up. It felt like you belonged in his bed. It filled you with butterflies. 

Sunlight poured in through the window, illuminating the room brightly without the need of the electric light. Ghost was nowhere to be seen, but it wasn’t like he left without a trace. On the nightstand was a light breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast with jam, a fruit salad, and tea. It was obviously food from the cafeteria, but the fact that Ghost went all the way there, organized a plate for you just how you liked, and brought it all the way back for you to wake up too had you melting from the inside out. You knew that he could be sweet when he wanted to be, but this was a whole different level. 

And he wasn’t even your boyfriend.

You took up the plate to enjoy, noticing a note underneath addressed to you. It was on a sticky note, so the message was brief. However, you still felt the care that went into each stroke of the pen. 

Y/n,

Try to take it easy today. See Price for a new room when you’re ready. There’s some better clothes for you on top of the TV stand. 

-Simon 

You were nothing but goo on the inside at this point. Your cheeks turned pink and you grinned with joy. It was crazy how happy you felt by his consideration. It seemed like he really cared about you. For a moment, you wondered if all of this chivalry could mean something more. Did he have feelings for you too? Would he be this way with another girl? Was he just being nice out of pity?

Shaking your head, you cleared the intrusive thoughts. Ghost wasn’t the type to be considerate out of pity. He was just considerate. You didn’t want to spoil your appetite either thinking about him doing this with other women. It may have been selfish, but for a little while, you just wanted to pretend that all of this was exclusive to you. 

As you ate through your breakfast, you thought about your potential new room. Cleaning up your old one and salvaging what you could was going to take a little time. Perhaps you should consider installing an extra lock just in case. 

Meanwhile, Ghost was busy examining camera footage from last night in a security room, trying to catch the assholes that decided to harrass you. He examined the monitors closely, watching the past-you head into the showers with your caddy and clothes without a care in the world. Then, he saw the culprits creep along the halls. A group of young boys. Four of them. After congregating outside the showers, they split into pairs. One pair headed into the showers, soon coming out with your clothes, while the other headed down to your room. They made quick work of picking your lock, the locks themselves quite dated since it wasn’t much of a priority to fix on base. 

Underneath one of the boy’s shirts was the outline of a few beer bottles. The door closed, hiding all the awful things that they did from the camera’s perspective. However, within just a few minutes, they all came back out, prideful grins on their punchable faces. He was quick to identify the men with the security tech. From there, he pulled their files up. 

He read all of their personal information without remorse. Reputation notes on base, strengths, weaknesses, family history, educational history. Ghost realized that this was your old squad. Compared to your file, the boys were unexceptional. No wonder you were pulled from them. 

No wonder they had a bone to pick with you.

The pieces of the puzzle began to fit together as Ghost investigated more and more. Pulling out old mission files from your old squad revealed consistent success, yet, not without teamwork struggles. Accidents, incidents, and “mistakes” were recorded in each mission. It was clear that you picked up the pieces and dragged the team to success despite the tension, an unfair burden to place on your shoulders. 

There was no record of explicit details of harassment or reports of bullying. He deeply sighed, picturing you facing your harrassment only to decide that it was better not to say anything. Surely, you weren’t afraid of the consequences if you spoke up. Ghost knew that that wasn’t how you were based on how you have worked with them. No, you kept your mouth shut to save your own reputation. You were someone that wouldn’t be sway by something as juvenile as bullying out of jealousy. 

For a moment, Ghost admired your resolved. At the same time, he wanted to scold you for being stubborn about not telling anyone. These boys didn’t belong on base. They didn’t even seem to belong in higher education. 

Ghost decided that these boys had to go.

~

You were cleaning up your old room, taking irreplaceable belongings to be moved to your new room. Price was notified about what happened from Ghost. When you saw him about a new room, Price more than complied. He got you a room closer to the other 141, figuring that you would feel safer if your neighbors were your teammates. He also demanded full details on any and every past incident of harassment, taking careful notes to keep on record. This would make sure that the boys would really be blacklisted from other branches of the military. 

It felt awkward telling him the long list of incidents, your captain’s eyes staring straight into your soul to get every ounce of the truth. Every so often, he looked like he wanted to scold you for not speaking up sooner, but he choked it down. You did what you thought was right and it technically was. It was clear that you were someone that didn’t crumble under pressure. You’ve proven yourself fully on that front. His trust in you grew as he looked at the long report you both worked on.

“Y/n, do you want these to fix?” Soap asked you, holding up a broken picture frame that, with a little wood glue, could be fixed. You would just need a new sheet of glass for it. Soap and Gaz had volunteered to help you clean as soon as they heard what happened. They were in your old room with you, picking up anything you deemed unsavable for trash. 

“Sure. Thank you guys again for helping me out.” You graciously thanked, putting the broken frame in a box along with other things you plan to fix. 

Gaz waved his hand, dismissing your gratitude. “It’s nothing. You’re one of us. We would do this for any of our team members.” 

“How’s Ghost doing? Have you seen him?” You couldn’t help but inquire. You haven’t seen him since last night when he tucked you into bed. There were rumors circling around the base that he was in a sour mood with the rookies, taking it upon himself to dictate their training regime today. 

Soap shook his head and chuckled at your question. “Giving them hell out there today. I saw him earlier doing spar training. He’s beating the shit out of them. Not sure if it’s actually helping better his mood.”

A laugh escaped Gaz as he swept up broken glass. “Knowing him, it’s probably not. He won’t be happy until he sees tears.”

You pictured Ghost demanding more laps, more push-ups, and more pull-ups. Throwing hard punch after punch towards your bullies as they try to figure out what they did to piss him off so bad. The idea of him defending your honor like that made you feel fluffy inside. Yet, your brain told you that you should probably talk to him about it, especially if he wasn’t feeling better after it all anyway. 

Looking around the room, you could tell that you were just about close to done. Cleaning was easier to do when you just simply had to throw most of the things away. You managed to save your pictures and personal trinkets. Anything cloth was ruined, but replaceable. The mattress had to be tossed, but that was on the military to replace since it was just one of their standard-issue barracks mattresses. 

As you took a look around, Gaz handed you a cold soda. “You going to miss it?”

You shrugged, the soda opening with a satisfying sound. Soap was handed one as well to which he gratefully drank. It was pretty warm in the rookie barracks, the building getting the most sunlight beating down on the building. The air conditioning system was pretty old as well, making air circulation a challenge. Soap, Gaz, and you were sweating through your shirts. 

“Nah, not really. As much as I tried to make it look like home, it didn’t really feel like it, you know? Not too many pleasant memories here either.” You honestly answered, tucking your small box of things between your side and your arm to carry out. Gaz and Soap finished their cans and grabbed as many trash bags as they could.

Before they closed the door to the empty room, you said a silent, final goodbye to it. You weren’t going to miss it, but it was still a small part of your life that you wouldn’t forget. 

As you and the men walked across base with your things, you could see your old team completing jumping jacks, sweat soaking their clothes and their skins completely red from exhaustion. Ghost was glaring them down, conveying that if they even thought about slowing down that he would have no problem tacking on another ten.

You sighed and turned to Soap, holding out your box of things to keep safe. “You mind holding this for me? I’m gonna go talk to him real quick.

Once he took your things, you made your way to Ghost who didn’t even realize you were coming. It wasn’t until one of the boys locked eyes with you with a contemptuous stare that Ghost realized that you were behind him. He had the urge to punch him just for looking at you like you were the bad guy. However, he held his cool for you.

“Y/n, something I can help you with?” He asked respectfully, his tone full of his lieutenant authority. As much as he wanted to be sweeter with you, he couldn’t let down his deadly facade in front of the boys who decided to take their jealousy out on you. 

You looked to Ghost and then to your bullies, seeing just how exhausted they were. Their chests were heaving, trying to take in as much air as they could. They had bruises forming on their arms and legs, injuries from sparring. They looked like they could drop dead at any moment. “I think they need a break. Don’t you think so?”

Ghost narrowed his eyes at them, seeing how exhausted they were for the first time today. He was pushing them hard. Too hard. He didn’t regret it though. But, he supposed that they suffered enough before being discharged. “Alright. You’re done with your drills. Follow me to your captain. We have some important news to discuss.”

The rookies sighed in relief, their legs shaking from fatigue. In the brief moment when they took a quick breather, Ghost turned back to you, his gaze softening slightly. “I’ll see you later. Still have business to take care of.”

You gave a respectful nod and salute before heading back to your new room. As you left, Ghost watched you go. The plain shirt and simple joggers he left for you fit nicely on your figure. He was worried that it wouldn’t be suitable for you. Thankfully, you seemed perfectly satisfied with your new clothes. 

The way the joggers hugged your hips and accentuated your curves near had him drooling, though. 

Snapping out of his stupor, he barked at the rookies to get a move on to their captain. Finally, they will be sent back home and learn more consequences for their actions. 

~

It’s been a week since you first moved into your new room. It was a little bigger than the rookie barracks, allowing more pieces of furniture to fit in the room if someone had a piece from the outside. You had spent your nights settling in. Fixing your things, putting them up, folding new clothes and uniforms, and decorating the space with new things. You had a new bookshelf now which Ghost built for you while you focused on the new wardrobe. 

You told him that you could build a simple IKEA bookshelf by yourself, already grateful that he was proactive in getting rid of trash soldiers that didn’t belong. However, he was insistent on helping you out, finding any and every opportunity to spend time with you. Not that you were complaining. You loved how much he was spending time with you. 

Everything seemed just about perfect. Until the 141 was called into a meeting to discuss the details of the next mission. Another deployment to save the world. The team was given their target, their route, and their grace period. Deployment would start tomorrow. 

It felt a little strange to say goodbye to your new room so soon. It felt like you just managed to call it home. As you looked around, taking it all in, there was a soft knock on your door. When you called for them to come in, you were met with a rather anxious-looking Ghost. You’ve never seen him this way before. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” You asked softly, conveying a certain gentleness that made his heart stir. 

He cleared his throat as he closed the door behind him, wanting a little privacy. “Actually, I wanted to check on you. You seemed depressed at the briefing.”

You gave him a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Just didn’t think we’d be deployed so soon. That’s all.” 

He nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t make a motion to leave. For a moment, he looked around your new room, taking in all the pictures of family, friends, and art. You looked so happy in all of the pictures, a wide grin on your face in each one. The combination of smells from your detergent, perfume, and air freshener suited you well. He couldn’t imagine your room smelling any other way.

On the wall was an empty picture frame. It was small, only being able to house a picture less than the size of a standard sheet of paper. It was on your nightstand, clearly meant to be something important to you. “What’s supposed to be in that frame?”

You looked at what he was referring to and picked it up, tracing the smooth frame with your fingers. “I’ve been saving this frame for a special picture. A team picture whenever there’s a chance to take one. Gaz, Soap, Price, Kate, you, and me. Sorry if that sounds cheesy.”

“It’s not.” He corrected you quickly, taking the frame out of your hands to put back on your nightstand. He actually found it really sweet. He had a few pictures of him and his team, but it needed an update to include you. The picture he had was a little dated anyway, showcasing a team when they first formed.

With a warm smile you, pat the space on your bed next to you, gesturing for him to take a seat. He took it, his weight causing the mattress to dip in. You ended up moving closer to him from the sudden dip, your side pressed against his. Awkwardly, you laughed and scooted back further, trying to give him some space. Your cheeks were burning red hot from the contact, something that Simon definitely noticed. 

As he looked at you, his heart began to pick up the pace. It’s been a while since the two of you were in a private space together like this. While he did help set your room up, the door was always left open and you were obviously busy working. Now, he had your full, exclusive attention. 

Simon has been waiting for a moment like this. Since the team was to be deployed tomorrow, it was now or never to do what he wanted to do.

“Y/n, I got something important to tell you.” He began, his stomach tying itself in knots. He hasn’t confessed to anybody in a long time. Actually, now that he thought about it, he never did. He was always the one being confessed to. His feelings have never been strong enough for anybody to be the one to confess first. Until he met you, that is.

You looked up at him, your head tilting in curiosity. What could Ghost possibly want to talk about? His expression was gravely serious, making you filled with anxiety. “Yes?”

He took a deep, shaky breath as he tried to find the words to say. As much as he ran through a script through his head, it was hard to say the words out loud. It was like the words would stop in his throat and choke him. Damn, why was this hard? His gaze dropped to the floor as he kicked himself for being so pathetic.

Seeing him seem to struggle with his words broke your heart. Wanting to provide some encouragement and comfort, you took his hands into your, giving them a little squeeze. 

When his eyes met yours again, he saw nothing but warmth. Nothing but love. For a minute, one of his hands left yours to remove his mask. For the first time, you saw Simon’s face in the full light. It took your breath away. The way his eyes shone a brilliant blue, sharp to match his features that seemed to be carved from marble, made you feel like you could jump with joy. It was an honor to be trusted this much.

The hand that left yours went up to caress your cheek, Simon not being able to help but touch you when you looked at him like he was the most handsome man you have ever met. He took in your features too. Your beautiful eyes, kissable lips, the cutest nose he’s ever laid his eyes on. 

He still couldn’t say the words he needed to say, however, he was a man of action anyway. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss you, something that you met halfway because you wanted to kiss him just as bad. The feeling of his lips on yours gave you shivers, a warmth creeping to every part of your body. Simon’s lips were a little chapped, yet soft nonetheless. Already, you felt like you would become addicted to his kisses. 

Feeling a little greedy, you deepened the kiss, your kisses becoming more intense and feverish. Not being able to resist, Simon leaned into it, his tongue swiping your lips for permission to which you eagerly granted. When his slick tongue met yours, you moaned against his mouth, control crumbling away each second. 

God, he tasted so good. So much better than you imagined. His hands landed on your hips, pulling you closer to him until you were flush against him. He ate up every moan that came from you, his tongue gliding against yours to keep them coming. You shuttered as his hands gripped your hips, refusing to let you go for even a moment. 

Simon pulled to let you catch your breath. However, he was far from being done with you. As you gasped for air, he peppered your neck with intense, needy kisses. His tongue dragged along your skin followed by a bite to leave a hickey. Hands began to crawl up under your shirt, his large, strong hands feeling up your smooth skin. 

You trembled and bit your lip, praying that he wouldn’t stop touching you. Your thighs rubbed together tightly as you felt the electricity travel through your sex. There was no doubt in your mind that you were already getting hot and wet for him. The love bites he was leaving on your skin felt amazing.

Naturally, you fell back onto the bed as Simon kept leaning towards you. Before he knew it, he was on top of you, fondling your breasts underneath your clothes. His fingers worked their way underneath your bra to pinch your nipples. They were hard between his fingers as he squeezed, pinched and tugged. 

Your back arched from his touch, legs spreading unconsciously so he could fit right between them. As your back arched, he took the opportunity to unsnap your bra. His lips crashed into yours after he pulled your bra and shirt over your head, allowing him to have a clear view of your gorgeous body. 

As he looked down at you, he swallowed hard. Perky, pink nipples, blushing skin, shivers traveling through your nerves. Christ, he was turned on. There was a tent in his pants that rubbed against your crotch, sending delicious aches for more through you. 

“Sorry, love. I didn’t even say what I wanted to say yet.” Simon suddenly apologized, realizing that he was eating you up much too quickly. He couldn’t help it. You were his favorite meal now. 

You gave a genuine chuckle, finding his thoughtfulness yet thoughtlessness cute. “It’s alright, Simon. We can keep going. I don’t mind it if that’s how you want to convey how you feel.”

His eyes flashed with pure love for you. He was grateful that you could read him this way. Still, you deserved to hear the words out loud. “My feelings for you extend past just physical contact. I want us to be together with the long-term in mind. This is just me being unable to resist you.”

While unconventional, you still found his words to be romantic. He was making the effort to say them to you, after all. Your heart swelled for him, filling with joy as you learned that he shared your feelings. A large smile naturally formed on your face. “I feel the same exact way. I want to be with you as a couple. The more I have gotten to know you, the more I want you.”

Simon gingerly laid himself on top of you, sealing the deal with a deep kiss. You could feel his heart hammering inside his chest, feelings overflowing from the both of you. When he pulled away, you cleared your throat awkwardly, a new embarrassment sweeping across your cheeks.

“So. . . Are we going to continue?” You cautiously asked, afraid that you’ll sound like a complete pervert if you didn’t choose your words carefully. 

He quirked a brow, propping himself up with his muscular arms to see you better. Simon didn’t expect you to want more even with how far you’ve already gone. He didn’t want to rush you, but he wanted to be honest. “You want to? If we do, I can’t promise that I can be gentle right now.”

The sound of your beautiful laughter filled his ears again. “Thank you for your honesty. I still want to. I don’t mind if you’re rough with me. I just want to experience all of you before deployment. Who knows when we will get this chance again.”

Your honesty was a breath of fresh air, relief falling upon his shoulders. The fact that you were willing to accept all of him meant the world to him. You wanted him as is, no matter what that entailed. Ghost would do his best to not push you too far. However, he still planned to fuck you good. So good that you would never imagine being with another man.

He stripped his shirt off, allowing you to touch his scarred chest freely. Shivers went down his spine as your hands traced them, his muscles flexing under your touch. You were practically salivating at his muscles. Simon felt amazing to touch and see in the light. You could hardly believe that you had the privilege to touch him like this.

You gulped, your cunt getting slicker as he slowly pulled your pants off. The terms “boyfriend” and “lover” floated around your brain along with “Simon.” All you could think about was him and the fact that he was now your boyfriend. Plus, he wanted to fuck you as much as you wanted to fuck him. 

Raising your hips, you allowed your new boyfriend to remove your pants completely along with your panties. Simon took a second to get nude too, not wanting you to feel alone in your vulnerability. From his pants sprung his arousal, slightly bigger than average and girthy. Throbbing, aching. The sight made you shutter in anticipation, imagining it filling up your pussy and fucking you like he was claiming you. God damn, did you want him to make you his.

Instead of filling you up like you wanted, he continued more foreplay, needing to make sure that you could fit him comfortably. Besides that, he wanted to drive you crazy. He wanted you to get so worked up that you would beg for him. He wanted you to not just want him, but need him.

Simon began raining kisses down across every inch of your skin. He nipped, bit, licked, and suckled everywhere, taking note of your most sensitive spots to exploit. So far, you whimpered when he attacked your neck. You gasped when he bit your nipples. You moaned when he squeezed your thighs. Flipping to expose your back, you absolutely squirmed when he traced his tongue along your spine. 

“Hold still, love.” He sensually whispered, kisses landing on your sensitive back with his weight trying to hold you down. You moaned as you felt him suckle, determined to leave his marks all over you. 

“I can’t when you’re teasing me like this!” You confessed, shuttered as his fingers slowly traced the curve of your back.

He smirked behind you, watching you tremble. “Your back sensitive, love?”

A small nod signaled that you were. Your hips were lifted naturally as you arched, perfect ass pressing against Simon’s hard-on. His breath hitched and he grabbed your hips to stop you from any attempts at grinding. Your pussy was drooling down your thighs, folds swollen pink. As he guided you to raise your hips further, he sighed. “Damn, look at this fucking mess. Hold still for me. And I mean it.”

Before you could ask what he was doing, you felt his tongue lap up your mess, causing you to moan loudly into the pillow. It felt like your whole body was charged with electricity as Simon slipped his tongue into your dripping, hot cunt, tasting you like candy. Trying to stifle your volume, you buried your face and bit your lip. 

He traced the length of you, feeling how soft you were from your entrance to your swollen clit. All with his wet tongue that you couldn’t get enough of. As he devoured you from behind, his hands grabbed your body, groping your hips, waist, thighs, and back to feel more of your softness. You were nearly screaming as he sucked on your clit, lathering it with his taste buds. It became nearly impossible to stay still, earthquakes running through you in waves.

“Even if I keep cleaning you up, you keep making more of a mess. Are you that turned on, love?” He teased, his tone light but his voice husky. Simon hardened his grip on you as you shook to keep you still.

“S-Simon!” You whined, embarrassed by his teasing. Hearing his name cry out for him like that made him throb, his cock aching to be inside you already. Little did he know that he was actually edging you. You were incredibly close to an orgasm with how long the foreplay was going. You felt your pussy tighten and leak, yearning for release. However, Simon always slowed down just enough to keep you hanging. 

What you really wanted to do was cry out for him, beg him to fuck you already. Of course, you didn’t say anything though. All you could really do was moan and whimper to avoid fully embarrassing yourself. You didn’t want to seem desperate, even though you were. 

Simon was ready to hear you beg, though. “What is it, love? What do you want?”

He continued to tease you, still darting his tongue out to play with every corner of your cunt. You gasped as he began to eat you out again, a mix of his saliva and your nectar running down your legs and staining your new bed sheets. Fuck, why won’t he just fuck you already?!

It suddenly clicked for you. Simon was waiting for you to beg. The longer you held it in, the longer he would wait to give you what you really wanted. You didn’t know that Simon was that kind of dominant man in bed, but Jesus, did it make you melt for him. 

“S-Simon, please! Please fuck me already!” You cried, not being able to take any more of his teasing. 

His kisses on your cunt slowed to a stop, a grin forming on his face as you begged for him. Just before he could reach down to the floor for his pants to fish out a condom from his wallet, you grabbed his wrist. Butt still in the air, you wiggled your hips. Your eyes were glazed over with desire, making his breath shutter. 

“Now, Simon!” You continued to plead, losing your patience by the second. 

“Love, I need to get a-”

“I have an IUD! Fuck, just put your cock inside me already!” You interrupted him, the need in your body almost painful at this point. Whether he meant to or not, he edged you for too long.

Ghost wasn’t prepared to hear such dirty talk come from your sweet mouth, but he loved it. He loved that you dropped your manners in desperation for him. Without any hesitation, he positioned himself behind you, rubbing his head between your folds to get some of your natural lube on him. The feeling of his hard erection entering you was agonizingly slow for your needs. 

Clinging onto the sheets, you whimpered, the feeling of his huge cock stretching you out making you quake. However, it wasn't enough. You didn’t care if it would hurt. You needed all of him. Now. “Si-”

Before you could call for him for more, he roughly slammed his hips against you, bottoming out completely all of a sudden. Your breath got trapped in your throat as an orgasm crashed over you. All that edging made you cum just from being entered so roughly. Pleasure traveled all throughout your nerves, Your pussy clenched down tightly, Simon having to grip your hips to steady himself. The feeling made his own head fuzzy. “Shit, love. You’re so fucking tight! Did you just cum?”

Your heart was nearly thumping out of your chest, still getting over your sudden climax. “You were edging me! I couldn’t help it!”

“Oh, sorry, love. I’ll make it all up to you.” He promised mischievously before absolutely ravaging you with his cock. His thrusts were hard and fast, sending ripples along your ass as he pounded into you.

You screamed into the pillow, the sensation almost overwhelming you completely. He rubbed against every sweet spot you had, hitting you deeper than you ever experienced before. Hands landed on the small of your back, holding you down on the bed as you took every single inch of him. This downward dog position had him rub your g-spot over and over again. Your mind began to feel numb, moan after moan leaving your lips that sent Simon into a frenzy.

He wanted to make you moan even more. More than that, he wanted to hear his name from those pretty little lips of yours. “Moan my name, love. Let me hear you cry it out.”

His cock pulsed as you gave him exactly what he wanted. You gasped, moaned, and cried out his name, each time sending you closer to the edge again. Having his name escape from your lips made you aroused as well, your pussy clenching around him in a way that made Simon want to give you even more. He was glad that you liked it rough. Of course, he would eventually make love to you nice and slow. Tonight though, he really wanted to keep fucking you as if you’ve been together for a long time already. 

This was him at his most wild. Thank god you could be wild too. 

“Fuck, love! Keep tightening around my cock like that and I’ll cum!” Simon groaned, getting lost in his own pleasure as your hot cunt stimulated every inch of him. Each time he moved out, your pussy tightened around him to keep him in. Your juices were covering him entirely, making a mess out of the both of you. 

Hearing him warn that Simon will cum inside you sent a delicious shock of pure pleasure through you. You wanted him to do exactly that as soon as he mentioned it. Your insides craved it, tightening around him more to incentivize him to do it. “Do it, Simon! Please, give it all to me!”

He moaned, completely losing it as you begged for his cum. Without warning, he took one of your arms and pinned it behind your back. His other hand rested on your head, grabbing a fistful of hair to completely pin you against the mattress in an inescapable position. Your vision blurred with stars as he railed you. Your abdomen clenched and your body trembled as you felt another orgasm hit you. 

As you cried out in ecstacy, Simon gave away his own grunts and moans, feeling the pressure build up. You felt so good cumming all over his length. How that much slicker you got, how you tightened to milk him dry, how you quivered against him. 

Before he knew it, he reached his own climax. Hot ropes of cum poured into the deepest parts of you. Jolts of electricity ran through you as you felt him throb at each release. You whimpered at the sensation, the feeling prolonging your orgasm. By the time he was done filling you up, you were shaking like a leaf. 

Finally, Simon let go of you, slowly pulling out and watching your combined fluids drip down your thighs and to the bed. He noticed your arms were red with how firm he gripped you. Sweat shimmered on your body, giving you a whole new beauty that he fully appreciated. He gently helped you lay down, your limbs feeling like total jelly and your mind nothing but fuzz. 

As you caught your breath, Simon grabbed one of your small hand towels along with a bottle of water from the mini-fridge he helped install in your room. For a moment, he was worried that he was too rough with you. However, as you came to, your expression seemed content. Satisfied. You’ve never been dicked down like that ever. It was something you always wanted to experience. Masturbation wasn’t enough to give you an orgasm that strong either. 

You were glad that you could experience it all with Simon as his new lover. 

He handed you the bottle of cold water, allowing you to drink first. As you drank, he cleaned you up with a towel. It was nice that he could be such a gentleman even after such rough sex. “You okay, love? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all. That was fucking amazing!” You honestly confessed, a grin on your face. Now that the both of you were done and he’s seen it all from you, you weren’t as embarrassed as before. 

Simon gave a soft smile back, drinking from the bottle when you handed it to him. “Good. You really are something special, you know that, y/n? You take me for me. You aren’t afraid to say what you want and get what you want when it comes to things you really care about.”

His compliments were so sweet and heartfelt that you felt compelled to kiss his cheek. And that you did, your soft lips landing on his cheek. “Thank you, Simon. I really appreciate it. You know, I think you’re really special too. You were my muse during my training, you know? Seeing your high scores around the base, hearing about all the great work you’ve done, all the respect you earned. It inspired me to become the best soldier I could be for my country. So, thanks for believing in me and helping me do just that.”

Suddenly, he pulled you into a tight hug, laying in your bed with you. Hearing those words come from you meant everything to him. While he had confidence normally, a part of him always wondered if he had become the man he always wanted to be yet. You had just given that confidence boost he needed to know that he was a good soldier, a good man, and a good lover worthy enough to be yours. 

You laid in his arms, taking everything in as he hugged you close. Finally, he was all yours. 

~

The plane was getting ready to take off, just waiting for your team to load up and settle in for the ride. You had a long trip ahead of you. A tough mission too. Gaz, Soap, and Price patted your shoulder as they got on, you having beaten them in boarding first. Then, Ghost came aboard, skull balaclava clinging to his face. He looked you up and down before giving you a firm nod of approval, taking the spare seat beside you. You haven’t told the team that you two were officially dating yet, but they had their suspicions. Especially after Ghost disappeared into your room until morning last he was seen the night before. 

Now, it was quite obvious as he sat beside you, closer than every and taking your hand in his. They didn’t say anything, of course. They were just happy that the two of you finally got together. Everyone noticed how you looked at Ghost and how he looked at you. 

Simon squeezed your hand reassuringly as the plane took off into the air. You suppressed an obvious smile and closed your eyes, patiently waiting for you to arrive at your destination. 

While you were normally a bit nervous before a new mission, this time, you felt no fear. It was hard to feel any fear now that you had everything you could possibly want. A supportive team, friends for life, a new home, and the love of your life.

[mncxbe]

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑eq

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: slice of life, age gap (a little bit unhealthy) relationship, smoking in bed, implied alcohol addiction, clichés, so so many clichés// reader is a singer

The flashing lights of the city beamed around you, specs of gold and shimmer that reflected off glassy windows and illuminated the navy night. Somewhere down on the crowded boulevard, cars honked and rushed, wheels squeaking against the pavement.

And yet the apartment felt cold an empty. Tossing around in your bed you reached for your phone, tapping the screen twice; it turned on without a sound. 2:25 a.m. No texts or missed calls.

You placed the phone back on the nightstand next to a crumpled pack of cigarettes and your paperback copy of Seichō Matsumoto's "Tokyo express". He hated when you smoked inside, but then again you also hated when he drank. With each their own vice.

Restless, mind fogged with nagging thoughts you went back to laying on your back; gaze unfocused. You took in a deep breath then exhaled.

How did you end up like this? you wondered for the nth time that week. You kept trying to place the exact moment your relationship started to come undone, when the two of you started to drift apart– was it after that fight you had four months ago? or maybe after you returned from vacation at the end of August? or it was all doomed from the beginning?

Perhaps this wasn't even caused by a mere moment, like a cord snapped in half. Maybe it was the result of your habits: his incessant absence due to work matters and your proneness to feeling lonely and nostalgic.

An ambulance rushed past your building, siren blaring, but the sound felt distant and muffled as if you were underwater. You remembered the first time you met him at that jazz club, a dim lit room filled with rich men and women dressed in lavish silk dresses and reeking of cigarette smoke where you used to sing on Friday nights.

He was celebrating one of his fellow coworkers' birthday or something... you didn't quite recall. But the moment your eyes met something snapped inside you. Cliché as it may sound you knew —and he knew too, that you were meant to be. Soft spoken and well mannered, you couldn't help but fall head over heels for him.

That night nothing mattered except the two of you. He felt so right, so safe. And it has been for a while. After a few dates at restaurants you never even dreamt of dining at, dramshops and sumptuous galas he attended and was kind enough to bring you as his plus one; you moved in, leaving your deadbeat one bedroom apartment in Kotobukicho for a penthouse in the heart of Yokohama.

And it was fun for a while. Fukuchi was kind and, although busy due to his position as the Hunting Dogs captain, he always made time for you. 'You make me feel young again' he confessed one night as the two of you lounged on the cushy couch, fingers lazily intertwined. 'You do too' you replied, earning a heartfelt chuckle from him. Ironic, considering that you were much younger than him, but he knew what you meant.

During those first eight months of your relationship you wrote song after song; you were inspired like never before in your life and at nights, when he came back from work, you'd sit on the bedroom floor and play the guitar for him until he fell asleep in your arms.

But then... something happened. He started coming home late and drunk, the sour taste of alcohol lingering on his lips as he kissed you goodnight. Your conversation resumed to only: "How was your day?" Good, and yours? "As usual."

The mere thought was sickening, like a punch to the stomach. Reaching for your cigarettes you took one out of the pack, lit it and inhaled, allowing the thick smoke to cloud your racing thoughts. Memories of times which seemed dim and distant, but were in fact mere months in the past.

Just then, you heard the front door opened and closed, followed by heavy steps around the apartment. A kitchen cabinet slammed shut, the sound of water dripping out of the faucet, silence... then the soft clink of the same glass placed on the marble counter.

You didn't even bother to put out your cigarette when you heard him walk towards your bedroom and quietly slid the door open.

"Hey, you still up?" he asked in a hushed voice, words slightly slurred.

Humming a mhm before taking a puff, you waved at him.

Without turning on the light he took off his uniform and climbed in bed next to you, arms wrapping around your waist as his head came to rest against your shoulders. Your fingers naturally slid through his messy hair, gently combing the light strands.

"How was your day?" you eventually asked; mechanically almost and you felt him shrug.

"As usual. Missions and meetings" he replied plainly but then added in a softer tone "But I missed you."

"You did?"

"Of course I did. I always do."

Taking a drag from your cigarette you tiled your head to the side to look at him. His expression conjured up an image of pure exhaustion: eyelids shut tight, eyebrows knitted, the corners of his lips turned slightly down.

"I miss you too, you know?" you stated quietly, almost like a whisper. But you both knew the true meaning of your words.

He shifted closer to you and placed a chaste kiss on your shoulder. "I know. I'll try to take next weekend off so we can go somewhere. Would you like that? Or we can just stay at home, just the two of us."

"Yea. That'd be nice"

"Good, great."

You rubbed the bud of your cigar on the edge of an overfilled ashtray on your nightstand and tossed it inside before turning to your side to face him. Your head felt clouded and heavy from the smoke, sleep threatening to lull you at any moment.

"I love you" you said softly, hand finding his as your fingers loosely intertwining and you closed your eyes.

Before falling into a deep slumber you heard his low voice, a hushed "I love you too, always will my darling" followed by sweet nonsense that somehow soothed your soul. And for the first time in a while there was hope, or maybe just empty delusions– but you fell asleep to the comforting feeling of his presence and the faded sounds of the night city.

[goddess-in-heaven-and-hell]

One does not joke about the Bodleian (BR) Pt. I - A modern Gwynriel One-Shot

In this first part of my next little mini-series, Gwyn and Az face each other as academic rivals in a university setting. I hope you like it :)

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none

Gwyneth Berdara never thought she’d say this, but if she has another coffee, her brain will explode with a 87% probability.

She knew she should have consumed her first cup exactly 90 minutes after waking up, like her professor and podcast-god Dr. Huberman told her to, but something about her roommates blaring the radio at six in the morning had convinced her otherwise. The second cup right after on her way to class hasn’t helped, and the third in-between lectures had her hands shaking and her eyes twitching. Then, the heavy lunch that followed contributed plenty to her tiredness… which left her nervous system frantically switching between wired and close to death.

“Gwyn, some space please.”, a slightly annoyed voice from beside her commanded, pushing a stray note back into her periphery. Gwyn grabbed the piece and stuck it to whatever folder she held in her hand – genomics – before returning the heavy study material to her backpack.

“Sorry, Em, but I can’t seem to find the assignment.”, she murmured, leafing through the stacks of paper in front of her and resolutely refusing to adhere to her friend’s command. The prestigious and extremely well-funded university of Oxford liked their students to hand in printed assignments in addition to electronic ones. Apparently, they liked to pretend they were still in their founding century.

Emerie leaned into her field of view completely which left Gwyn to examine her friend’s scalp instead of her notes. “I’ve literally just seen the thing.”

“Aha!”, a triumphant Emerie sat back up, the missing assignment held up in victory. “Now you can collect yourself another 95% and the cry about the five missing-“

Emerie was rudely interrupted, Gwyn’s assignment ripped straight out of her hands. “Jack!”

With a grin that showed more teeth than friendly banter, Jack Irwin leaned back in his chair behind them, the pieces of paper completely out of reach for both women.

“I will be holding these hostage until you finally set a date to go out with me like you promised.”, his deep and honeyed voice explained, eyes boring into Gwyn’s bright teal ones like that might elicit a nice response. Beside her, Emerie sighed out a long breath, anticipating the everlasting and borderline painful conversation that was about to start.

Just like it did every week around this time.

“Jack, keeping me from my assignment isn’t going to get you any points in my book.”, Gwyn explained to him slowly, reaching out her hands for him to hand it over. If he behaved like a toddler, she’d treat him like one.

Jack pretended to think about that for a second, his bland face scrunched in concentration. “Nope.” The popped ‘p’ grated on Gwyn’s nerves more severely than his smug expression. Why did he have to make every exchange of words so damn difficult? She felt a headache starting between her brows and it wasn’t even two in the afternoon.

“I give you exactly five seconds before you’ll see me empty out my water bottle over your MacBook”, the redhead levelled him a glare, trying to convey the severity of this situation by staring a hole through his useless head. Today really wasn’t the day to test her.

Jack stopped balancing on his chair, leaning over his desk and coming really too-damn-close into her personal space. “It’ll be all worth it if I end up taking you out this Friday.”

“Let it go!”, she snapped, lunging over the table separating them and nearly ripping her assignment in two as she snatched it back, “It won’t happen, no matter how hard you try to guilt-trip or blackmail me.”

She felt more than she saw the atmosphere between them change. Jack’s previously playful and cocky air darkened. His mouth was just about to form a reply when he was thankfully interrupted.

“Good afternoon, class.”

Gwyn turned around with a relieved sigh, shooting an apologetic look at her now crumpled papers. I’m so sorry you were tainted by unworthy hands. For a second, she could have sworn the ink winked at her – that’s when she decided to quit coffee for good.

Her professor had made his way to the front of the small lecture hall, preparing his lesson while students started to file towards him. Emerie and Gwyn soon joined them, checking in on the attendance list, turning in the assignment and dutifully ignoring the dirty looks Jack shot their way. But as Gwyn finished her weekly signature, her gaze snagged on something peculiar.

You see, the lecture and course were so intimate that it was possible to know every student by name. After all, not many were suicidal enough to enroll in Oxford’s biology M.A. program. Therefore, when another student joined the course, people usually noticed immediately. And as Gwyn stared at the table containing their names, her brows drew together in confusion.

Definitely too much coffee.

She snorted to herself, finding her place and slumping back into it next to Emerie.

“I seriously need to watch the caffein.”, she started, leaning over to her friend and lowering her voice, “Can you believe I read one of the names on the attendance list as ‘Azriel’?”

She snickered, not noticing how Emerie had to bite down on a broad smile. “I mean, what kind of person is named like that? An angel? A fucking warrior prince from ancient times that turns into a dragon every full moon?”

In her head, it was kind of funny. And Gwyn would be lying if she didn’t immediately think of her usual, private reading material and all the kinds of things someone named ‘Azriel’ might be up to.

Emerie shrugged, getting her notes and laptop ready for class. “You probably read it wrong. I bet his name is Andy or something.”

Gwyn made a noncommittal noise while copying Em as their professor looked around the room expectantly.

“Has anybody seen a Mr. Hawthorne?”, he called into the void of sleep-deprived students. Some people shook their heads while others just stared back blankly, waiting for him to get on with it and not caring in the slightest for whatever happened with the guy. As Gwyn didn’t know an answer to the professor’s question, she made a mental list of names that ‘Hawthorne’ went with.

Andy Hawthorne sounded weird, the family name too overpowering. Andrew Hawthorne might have a nice ring to it, but then it also gave off a pretentious vibe. Aiden, Alexander – it definitely wasn’t Alexander – maybe Austin? Austin Hawthorne?

The door swung open, interrupting the opening words of the professor as well as Gwyn’s encyclopedia of names. And in the doorway, nearly filling out the whole damn thing, stood the most beautiful man Gwyn did ever see.

“Ah”, the professor noticed him as well, hurrying over to the attendance list as roughly thirty-five pairs of eyes switched their attention on the newcomer, “Azriel Hawthorne, biology M.A.?”

No. Freaking. Way.

The stranger nodded, quickly signing the form and thanking the professor quietly before his gaze fell onto the rest of the class in search for a seat. And Gwyn could have sworn a faint sigh left every female in the room collectively.

His face was carved from the gods. Angular, sharp, symmetrical. Full eyebrows framing the most glowing brown eyes a human ever saw. Dark strands of hair falling onto his forehead while the sides and back were shaven neatly. Muscles – Gwyn had to swallow to save her dry throat from suffering irreparable damage – and more muscles that bunched over his tight black shirt.

And from her place way too high up in the stands, Gwyn had to witness how her classmates flung themselves out of the way to offer him more seats than he could ever place his butt on, even if he switched every time they had the lecture until the end of the semester.

Azriel chose a seat in the second row, nodding his thanks to the blushing blonde who’d nearly sacrificed her friend’s well-being while forcing her to scooch over.

And when he moved to pull out his laptop, Gwyn’s idealist image of a man was complete. He had tattoos covering his whole arms, their inky swirls peeking out from underneath the sleeve.

“You haven’t blinked in like a full minute. It’s not healthy.”, Emerie whispered from beside her, amusement shining from her face as she seemed to be the only person with a uterus to not be too phased by his existence. And let’s face it, even some of the guys shot him more than curious glances.

Yet, all Gwyn could do was stare like a total creep, ignoring for the first time since starting university what the professor was lecturing about.

Emerie was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to ramble some kind of justification to conceal her embarrassment. It didn’t come. Gwyn’s brain had suffered a short circuit.

Put simply, the woman was too stunned to speak.

“Oh, Lord save us all.”, Emerie muttered before dutifully turning her attention to the professor. And as her friend concentrated in order to learn about cell biology and signaling, Gwyn was quickly learning that she had a type.

…

“So, what did he do to have all your panties in his power within one lecture?”, Nesta asked Emerie and Gwyn as they met in the cafeteria that evening, exchanging the latest gossip over their pasta. And no other topic was ever more news-worthy than the arrival of Mr. Azriel Hawthorne. In fact, Gwyn was sure it was discussed thoroughly at every single table containing at least one biology student.

“Tell her Gwyn,” Emerie was already laughing beside her, drawing way too much malicious joy from this situation.

Gwyn faced her spaghetti. “Well, he kind of… just walked in, took his seat, then left.”

Nesta’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “That’s it? Did he have some magical pheromone perfume? No guy is just that attractive.”

“Who is attractive?”, a booming voice saved Gwyn from further scrutiny. Cass, Nesta’s boyfriends and physiology student, slumped into the seat next to her and delivered a smacking kiss to her cheek. “Talking about me again Nes? You’ll make them jealous!”

Nesta observed him for a moment, her usually harsh eyes turning softer. “Actually, we were discussing the new Adonis gracing Gwyn’s and Emerie’s class. What was is name again?”

But before Gwyn could respond, Cassian interrupted the women with a long-suffering expression. “Please, not you too!”

The girls exchanged a look before turning their full attention on Cass.

“How is every single woman in this whole college obsessed with the guy? He has been here for half a day. Half a day! And I overheard some girls in all of my classes talking about strategies to get him to go out with them.”, he scoffed, angrily assaulting his bread roll with his teeth. “I meam – wats fo cool abowt him?”

Nesta quickly shushed him before he could grace the women with a full view of corroded bread.

“Stop being so butt-hurt. You’re still our number one guy.”, Emerie reached out to pat his hand while he shot her puppy-eyes that clearly spoke of how much he needed to hear that. But for all the love she felt towards Cassian, Gwyn found herself hesitant to agree.

And it was so stupid. She didn’t even know him, only stared at the back of his head for the better part of an hour. Mind you, it was a very nicely shampooed head. But for all she knew, he could be a complete jerk, smelly, aggressive, or even worse – negligent in his studies.

He hadn’t seemed like it in class though, typing away on his computer, eyes never straying from the board. And if that wasn’t the hottest thing about him, Gwyn didn’t know what to think anymore.

With a tad bit of overexcitement, Roslin fell onto the chair beside Gwyn, slamming her tray of food so forcefully it rattled the whole hall. “I’ve got news everyone!”

“Finally Rosi, feed me some fucking gossip that isn’t to do with the biology bloke.”, Cassian leaned towards her, happy now that the center of attention shifted.

Or not.

“Azriel Hawthorne has a girlfriend!”, Roslin exclaimed with wide eyes, causing Cass to fall back on his chair dramatically while Nesta broke out in laughter. But Gwyn wasn’t laughing. Decidedly.

“How do you know?”, she asked, voice lowering into a whisper.

“Well, you know Amy from biochem?”

Gwyn nodded, the faint image of a short haired, petite girl forming in her mind.

“Apparently, she was paired with him for their practicals earlier today. And since she was the first girl to tie him down into a conversation, she wanted to make her move quickly. Asked him out, but he politely declined with that explanation. I just met her in the hallway. She’s mortified.”, Roslin rattled down the story with the speed and intensity of a news-moderator.

And with that information, Gwyn’s excitement exited her body in a big swoop, leaving her mentally and physically exhausted. Which was ridiculous – never in a million years did she imagine herself going up to him, or even talking to him, really. But the daydream was nice while it lasted.

“Amy said he was super nice, though”, Roslin continued while now focusing her attention on her food as well, having delivered the most interesting piece of news, “He pulled out the chair for her. And went to clean her pipette and scales without her asking. Not much of a talker, but very focused on his studies.”

Something shriveled up and died inside Gwyn, and it might have been her hope for a guy who encompassed exactly these qualities. Because how likely was she going to find two of those in a lifetime?

Gwyn stabbed into her pasta with new rigor, willing to bury her emotions with carbs.

And just as she stuffed her face full with them, angrily chomping with sauce getting caught in the corners of her mouth, she heard his voice again.

Right behind her.

Saying her name.

“Gwyneth Berdara?”, the deep and velvety soft voice of Adonis-Azriel Hawthorne filled her ears and before she could just stop herself to think for a second, she already rotated in her chair to stare up at him, face still full of pasta.

“Mhough?”, she choked out, nearly killing herself in her eagerness to engage in a conversation with him. In hindsight, she kind of wished that a piece of pasta went into her respiratory tracks then and there.

Azriel’s gaze flickered from her reddening face to a piece of paper he held clutched in his hand while Gwyn fought the hard battle of chewing as fast as she ever chewed in her life.

“I realize it’s a bad time and I’m sorry to interrupt. But Professor Huberman gave me your name in the hopes you could catch me up on the lecture so far.”, he explained, perfectly reasonable and calmly while the woman in question lived through a serious fight-or-flight response.

She swallowed at last, swiping her hands over her mouth in the hopes to save some of her appearance. But really, what was there to save after a whole day of lectures and seminars?

“That’s absolutely fine.”, Gwyn tried a small smile, praying to the pasta-gods that her teeth were clean, “We can meet up tomorrow after class. I’m free after 4.30 pm.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could just send me your notes via email. I only transferred, so I should know most of the stuff.”, he replied evenly, handing her the piece of paper that held his email address.

So, that went well.

“Oh, sure. That’s fine with me too. Super.”

Super? Who said super?

“Great. See you around then.”, and with a friendly smile directed at everyone at the table, Azriel strode away.

Gwyn’s eyes shut closed for a moment, her head falling into her neck. What was that conversation and how did she manage to fuck it up so completely?

She turned around towards the table again where Emerie already shot her an apologetic look. “Well, if he has a girlfriend anyways, you don’t have to worry about your prospects with him.”

 Gwyn just nodded in a trance. Azriel did in fact smell really good. And he looked even better up close. And he already knew most of the lecture contents for gods sake!

Gwyn was left to ponder her life’s choices, starting with her carb obsession and ending with selecting biology as a major. But she wasn’t the only person shook to her core at the table.

Cassian stared after Azriel, his eyes boring into the back of his head before he blurted out, “Is his bicep bigger than mine?”

…

After some well needed time of consideration, Gwyn decided that she in fact does not have a crush on Azriel Hawthorne.

The compiled list of arguments against his person was long and ever-growing: it started with him having a girlfriend and ended with his stupid dragon-lord name.

The whole thing was a lie, of course. A gentle sort of gaslighting… only against her own conscious. Every day after their encounter in the lecture and cafeteria afterwards Gwyn scolded herself fiercely whenever she daydreamed about him. Imagining him being mean to his girlfriend, kicking a puppy, ripping out pages of a book…it didn’t make him any less attractive objectively, but it helped.

And as she sat her stressed ass down in her lecture seat exactly a week later, she was all but convinced that Azriel Hawthorne was a conniving, dastardly, and arrogant prick who was probably a fuckboy and lived off his daddy’a trust fund. And that he was stupid.

Honestly, it gave her enough peace of mind that she didn’t turn into a puddle beneath the table when he walked in (punctual) while nearly every other girl in this class did.

“Oh, he looks handsome today, doesn’t he Gwynnie?”, Emerie whispered her venom next to her, wiggling her eyebrows in her direction.

“He looks fine.”, Gwyn replied evenly, smiling at Emerie who narrowed her eyes as the unexpected answer, “Actually, his t-shirt looks about two sizes too small. He probably doesn’t know how to do his own washing.”

Or it was the fact that his muscles greatly outnumbered those of all other guys in this class combined.

Her friend didn’t let her off the hook, though. “Did he do something? Last week around this time I had to slip tissue paper on your laptop to keep it from being drooled on.”

But Gwyn just scoffed, mentally scolding herself for her weak moment. She blamed the caffein anyways. “Nope. Never heard from him after I sent over my notes.”

And maybe that was the part that stung, too. Her lecture notes were first class, only second to the ones her professor had himself. Why Mr. I’m-so-bulky-Hawthorne hadn’t been in a hurry to thank her for that, she couldn’t fathom. But if he has the nerve to do better in the exam through using her notes, she’d throw hands.

Emerie made an unimpressed face. “What, not even a thank you?”

“Silence.”

Gwyn made herself busy pulling out her laptop and selecting the right script. Maybe the message didn’t get through – no, it did. He was just an asshole.

And only five minutes until the lecture began, said asshole lifted himself out of his seat and made his way towards Gwyn.

“He’s coming, he’s coming.”, Emerie murmured, repeatedly tapping Gwyn’s thighs as if she hadn’t noticed a six foot something god coming her way.

But it didn’t matter, because he didn’t like him.

“Hey Gwyn.”, Azriel greeted her quietly with a little nod towards Em. He crouched down in front of her table, stabilizing himself with his tattooed arm. Which Gwyn was not looking at.

“Hi.”, she replied, pretending to be busy writing down a note in her diary. Because she absolutely refused to give into his pull.

Azriel observed her for a moment, his eyes tracing her face and hair, before speaking again. “I wanted to come over to thank you personally for your notes.”

Oh.

Gwyn looked up, her pencil suspended above paper, and couldn’t help the small smile that slipped past her lips. “You’re welcome. If you have any questions about them, feel free to ask.”

Adonis smiled back at her, nodding more to himself that to her. “Actually, there was one diagram you drew in your microbiology section that made me pause.”

Gwyn leaned forward, now more than ready to leave all her negative feelings and even her crush for him aside in favor of talking about her favorite topic.

But then he had the nerve to say, “I’m sure it was just a slight oversight on your part, but the order wasn’t right. You might want to correct that before you memorize it wrongly.”

And suddenly, with the intensity of a raging tsunami, all of the previously fake reasons why she didn’t like him became very real.

“I highly doubt that.”, she replied through a clenched jaw, “I only copy the diagrams from the board. They can’t be wrong.”

Azriel smiled at her still, “As I’ve said, it was probably just a blunder. The rest of your notes are okay.”

Okay?

Emerie was the only thing anchoring her to reality as she burst out into a coughing fit next to Gwyn, whose undiluted rage filling every inch of her veins.

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”, all of her strength went into those word. And that she didn’t spew fire with them. Right at his condescending face.

“I owe you a coffee, or whatever you like to drink. Maybe we can do that sometime soon?”, he asked, straightening himself up to his full height again. Gwyn added another con to her list: can’t read the room.

“Sure, sometime.”, she smiled a tight-lipped smile at him as he turned, saved again by the arrival of her professor. Or rather, the professor has unwittingly saved Hawthorne’s ass. An ass which her eyes shot daggers at as she watched him go down the aisle to his seat once more.

Beside her, Emerie tried to school her face into neutrality, forcing the corners of her mouth into balance when Gwyn knew they desperately wanted to jump up.

“Well, at least he’s attentive.” She said evenly, looking her best friend up and down and trying to assess the damage done.

“Attentive.”, Gwyn repeated, practically spewing fire, “arrogant, big-headed, patronizing.”

Emerie nodded, still fighting a losing battle with the corners of her mouth.

Gwyn went on while her professor called up the first slide of his presentation. “Aloof, domineering, tactless.”

“Gwyn Berdara: the pocket-sized Oxford English Dictionary.”, Emerie murmured, pulling up her own notes on her iPad. But Gwyn might as well had earplugs stuffed into her skull. She didn’t hear a word as Dr. Huberman started his lecture, nor did her eyes focus on any of the bullet points.

“Vaid, rude, Azriel.”

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me: Sugar and Spice

Series Masterlist

Ariel rolled over in bed and groaned softly. The last few days she had been feeling nauseous. Jack had to even pick her up from the school early because she had gotten sick in the restroom. At first she figured it was just the flu but now on day 4 of feeling sick, she wasn’t too sure.

She looked over and saw that her glass of water was empty but she didn’t have the energy nor strength to go down to the kitchen to get more. Jack couldn’t do it because he was currently gone as he was at the studio.

Just as she found the strength to get up she immediately jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. Ariel had barely got to the toilet in time before she threw up everywhere.

Once she finally got it all out of her system, she stood up and went to the medicine cabinet to see if she had anything to soothe her stomach.

As she was rambling through the cabinet, a cold chill ran through her body at the sight of an unopened pack of tampons.

Fuck.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had her period. Any other time she wouldn’t think much of it as her period was normally irregular but with the way she’s been feeling lately she knew something was up.

Ariel closed the cabinet and looked at herself in the mirror. Before she had gotten sick she had noticed her body felt different, she couldn’t figure out what it was. If she really is pregnant then that would explain why.

She turned to the side to get a different view. Ariel could be imagining it but her stomach did look a bit rounder.

Like most women she always dreamed of becoming a mom. She likes to think that she became a mom the day she met Jayla. Once officially becoming her mom, she didn’t even think of having some of her own. Now that she could possibly be pregnant, she was scared shitless.

And she still had to tell Jack.

***

“I’m telling you dude, she’s acting weird.” Jack said as he leaned back in the studio chair, nervously biting on his toothpick.

Urban was quiet for a moment before speaking, “Well, did your dumbass make her mad?”

Jack just glared at him. “No! I can’t even remember the last time we argued. Literally everything has been great.” He thought for a minute trying to think if anything had changed in the last couple weeks. He had been working more lately. Finally writing songs for himself and not other artists.

“She probably feels neglected? I haven’t been home much. Maybe she just misses me and doesn’t know how to tell me?!” Jack said, biting his lip nervously.

“Hm, maybe you should—“ Urban couldn’t even finish speaking before Jack jumped up suddenly from his chair. “Imma go home.” Jack said as he started grabbing his things.

“I gotta plan a date night. Something crazy, huge display of my love for her…”

“Jack…”

Jack ignored him as he had a phone pressed to his ear. “Hey, how soon can you guys deliver flowers?” Urban heard him say as he watched his best friend rush out the door.

All Urban could do was shake his head but smiled knowing that Jack had a huge surprise waiting for him at home. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to warn Ariel.

“The eagle has left the nest.”

Ariel giggled as she made sure everything was in place. She was so nervous but stupidly excited. As soon as she got to their shared bedroom she heard Jack call out to her, she covered her mouth to stay quiet. Not wanting to ruin the surprise and waited for him to find her.

***

Jack rushed through the door with flowers in his hands. “BABE! I’m home” he yelled and quickly kicked off his shoes. He frowned when he didn’t hear a reply back. Closing the front door, he stopped in his tracks when he saw a note taped to the door.

“Welcome home, baby! Let’s play a game. Kick off those new balances and go find your glasses for your first clue.”

Jack smiled reading the note, and took long strides to his office to find the first clue, it didn’t take long to find the next note as his glasses were sitting right on top.

“Woo hoo, You found me! Go to the kitchen and find the bottle of bourbon and then text Urban for the next clue. Ask nicely, or he might not come through.”

Jack immediately pulled his phone out to text Urban as he made his way to the kitchen.

“What is she planning?” He texted first, and rolled his eyes when he saw Urban read the message but didn’t respond.

“Ok, fine. What’s the next clue?” Jack wasn’t surprised when Urban texted him back quickly.

“Drinking this will help make you…”

“Huh?” Jack says out loud, just as he was about to text Urban back, another message came through. “It rhymes with Hocus Pocus, you idiot!”

A lightbulb went off in his head as he walked to the food closet and found his cases of Phocus with another clue on top.

“I can’t wait till you find me so I can give you some lovin’ but first I think something is baking in the oven.”

Jack’s eyes furrowed slightly as he closed the door of the closet and walked back towards the kitchen to open the oven door. He smiled wide when he saw a donut bouquet similar to the one he got her many moons ago on Valentine’s Day. He placed the donuts on the counter and read the note attached to them.

“You’re almost there! When you wear this everyone stops and stares with a gasp. To put me on, just fasten the clasp.

His Kentucky chain was his first thought as he quickly climbed the stairs to his dressing room where he kept all his jewelry. On top of the jewelry box was what he assumed was one last note. “To the best husband..”

Jack opened the letter and his breath got stuck in his throat as he read the next line. “…and soon to be a father of three.”

He turned around when he heard movement behind him, Ariel was standing behind him holding an ultrasound, happy tears streaming down her face.

Jack spoke first, “You’re…?” Ariel nodded.

She began to get nervous when she noticed his face start to turn pale. “Jack?”

Jack shook his head so the color could come back to his face, and he rushed over, lifting Ariel up in the air in excitement.

“JACK!” Ariel sequels holding on to him tight as he spins her around. He finally places her back down on the ground. Jack grabs the side of her face before giving her a big kiss.

After pulling away, he drops to his knees and places a hand on her stomach. “There’s two babies in there.” He said, sounding choked up.

“It’s crazy, huh?”

Jack simply nodded and pressed kisses all around her bump that the average person could hardly see.

“Thank you for making me a mother again.” Ariel said with a happy sigh, and she ran her fingers through his curls.

Jack who was still on his knees, placing feather light kisses on her stomach, squeezed her tighter. Again was the key word. After all these years together, hearing Ariel talk about Jayla like she was her own will forever warm his heart.

“I love you, I’m so happy we get to go on this ride together.” Jack said getting to his feet, Ariel wrapped her arms around his neck.

“3 down, 5 more to go.”

“There’s no way in hell 5 more are coming out of me”

Both of their blissfull laughs rung through the air as they enjoy this moment together

***

AN: DOUBLE THE TROUBLE!!!!! Hope you all enjoyed this let me though your thoughts

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[tumblingxelian]

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Rivals and Roommates to Lovers

Summary: With her parents fast approaching for a string of "Family Therapy Sessions" and with the looming promise of their intervention in her nonexistent love life, Wednesday is forced to take drastic action.

"Enid, Barclay, I have need of one or both of your assistance in a little deception for the duration of my parents extended visit."

Concept: Wednesday's parents are coming weeks before parents day for multiple family therapy sessions at Kinbotts suggestion. They also insinuated they would use this chance to introduce Wednesday to some 'respectable suitors', much to her chagrin.

Wanting an excuse to bail on them at a whim, use others to distract them & something to obscure their interests in playing match maker she corners Enid & Bianca after fencing (With Yoko & Divina watching) to request one or both of them play the role of paramour.

Flabbergasted shock and intrigued amusement reign but discussions do happen; though be it not all at once as the topic brings up... Revelations.

Enid is willing to go along with things cos she's a friend but does expected some repayment in girls nights. She is also insistent the fake relationship be healthier than her parents decades long marriage and is very committed to it.

Bianca is more put off at first, but a blend of anger at Xavier, competitiveness, and the desire to extract Wednesday's promise to help them win the fencing tournament is enough to get her to go along with it.

There are revelations however that come fast and quick:

Outcasts of high standing do practice arranged marriages, but it is possible to cancel them as they are more a ceremonial idea to maintain alliances.

However the process to do so without creating huge problems or looking stupid requires several steps to be met for everyone's pride.

Wednesday is furious she was not told she had fiancé's (Her parents never intended to force the issue they just didn't want to bring it up until they felt she'd not actively cause a political incident out of spite)

Bianca is furious Xavier lied to her about having no prior commitments or relationships as it has become evident he never intended to stay with her in the first place.

Enid was the one who actually figured out there would be arranged marriages due to culturual osmosic and snooping.

Yoko is roped into assisting with the cancellation process, & Divina into helping helping stage semi real dates.

Thing was assigned to spy on Weems so he's missing all this.

Said fake dates and manufactured confessions of interest primarily exist to give the relationship legitimacy for the romantic Addams:

Wednesday: My parents are romantics at heart, they can readily accept mny things if it fits a narrative they would like to see spun.

Bianca: Oh do tell, what made us so perfect for the role of your paramours?

Wednesday:... With yourself Barclay, they would hardly question the simmering tensions that can emerge between rivals of the blade and intellect. Though your penchant for social climbing would perhaps raise eyebrows given my tastes otherwise.

Bianca: Oh how charming.

Enid: So what about me, they seemed kind of put off by my pastels.

Wednesday: Surprise would certainly echo in their otherwise empty heads. However it is not unprecedent given my uncle Festers tastes in women and for all our differences... You are very careful with my eccentricities.

Yoko: Rivals to lovers, oh my god they were room mates; fake relationship 400K slow burn, another win for the gays! (cackling)

Romantic inspiration moments discussed include:

Wednesday forcefully revaluating her opinion of Enid after she threatened Wednesday on the first night and revaluating her opinion of Bianca after her loss in their first duel. (Her parents find both the roommate romance and rivals to lovers very inspired)

She confessed to Enid recently, after seeing her maul the schools bus in a rage & Bianca a few days later after a roof top duel in the rain that ended in a draw. (There was wine drinking from each others glasses before & after, cos while this is all staged, Wednesday is not a some uncivilized boor who won't treat her dates well)

Enid romantic moments are Wednesday helping with the Poe Cup & she says she used to crush on Bianca before she dated Xavier. When Xavier is pissy about Wednesday "Breaking things off" and her refusing to sit near him in class, Enid goads him by kissing Wednesday's cheek and then mocking him at fencing.

Xavier loses it, but throws his sword at Bianca rather than Enid thinking its her scheme and Enid attacks him. So violently that they Yoko, Divina, & Coach Vlad just to hold her back. (The former two actually know Enid's temper)

For Bianca the moments would be Wednesday's words to her before the Poe Cup forcing her to take a look at her truly and parse her feelings regarding the matter of Xavier, followed by the roof top duel.

While for Enid it would be seeing her efforts to maul Xavier and them having a "Talk" after the fact. Her & Enid's relationship is framed as "Seeing where it goes" while their interest in Wednesday and hers in them is more direct.

Naturally real feelings start to or are already developing. They also time it all before the dance so they can make their dramatic debut.

Also thanks to his spying Thing learns that Weems is in talks with the Mayor regarding the monster and seems to know something, so they get confirmation of it from that angle rather than Xavier's art and the cave.

This also means Thing is flabbergasted when returning to the room & seeing Bianca there, putting herself right in the middle of the room, to mildly intrude on Wednesday's space but not go overboard. This is to be in contrast to Enid who is more careful with Wednesday's boundaries but sometimes to the point of inaction.

Xavier's inability to respect Wednesday's boundaries or words & Wednesday hating Galpin's dad and finding Tyler confusing (Cos of his rambling about signals) is why she didn't go to them. Meanwhile Eugene makes her think of her brother which squicks her out so he was off the table.

Also parents day likely ends up hella more dramatic and Bianca and Enid get some big development from their mutual mom situation. Plus Wednesday realizing she's growing… protective.

[a-cupof-jo]

Play Action - Teaser

Football Player!Jung Jaehyun x Sports Analyst!Fem!Reader

Genre: grump x sunshine, falls easily x doesn’t know what love is

Warning(s): none

Teaser WC: 1.5k

Projected WC: 15k

Play Action Playlist

Part of the Picture Perfect Image Universe

Summary:

Jung Jaehyun wouldn’t know hard work if it slapped him in the face. He has an unnatural talent as a Tight End- I should know- but he has gotten off easy. So when a drunken night leaves his image in a lest-than-stelar light, who better to fix it than the Angel’s exclusive date-for-hire. I would not let myself be pulled into a football players life again, but Jaehyun makes it hard to stay away.

A/n: rough edit sorry :/

~~

I have loved Jeno Lee for 93 days. 

I love the way he makes me laugh and how he is always attentive to me. He never makes me feel bad when I don't want to go out or if I am feeling so overwhelmed with work that I can't make myself function properly. We weren't best friends, it was something different between us.

Mutual respect and appreciation drove our relationship. I could not put my heart in more capable hands. They were more competent at steering that bus than any other emotion I know. 

We were steady and knew exactly what was expected of each other. With him, I feel happy and in control of my life, of the future and what it holds. 

There weren't many times Jeno wasn't smiling, but I liked to think that I only added more joy and happiness to his life. I celebrate his victories and let him lay his worries on me.

Celebrating is what we were doing tonight. No matter how much I tended to avoid crowds and large gatherings, I would put on my brave face. This was important to him, and me, to us. Months had been put into this to make it possible. 

He wouldn't judge me for my tardiness- much. No one likes to admit their faults, but luckily when they are on display, you don't have to. Which is why I'm sure he already assumed that I was going to be late, but the street vendor had been busy and I couldn't resist the roasted pecans.

Adrian Young Memorial Stadium was magnificent. Tall pillars and exterior walls built of locally sourced quartz and the limestone exuded the quiet strength that came from the neighboring mountains. It held a long tradition of hosting some of the most spectacular moments of football history, a tradition that the Angel’s intended to keep. 

A long quiet hall greeted me as I pushed through the authorized personnel only hallway. It wasn't unfamiliar, but as I took in the boards boasting years of excellence and the man that made this team great it was hard to not feel small, insignificant. 

Glancing at my watch, my groan echoed around me.

It was official- I was the worst girlfriend ever. If I ever had any doubt before, it was now gone. 20 minutes late and showing up nearly empty handed to the biggest celebration of the last 20 seasons. 

Maybe nobody would notice the slightly disheveled woman racing down the hall. It’s not like I was an important figure that would be missed, not in a room full of professional athletes. Stopping where laughter and cheers spilled from the doors, I counted back from 10, pulling lightly at my shirt to straighten it. Calm, cool, composed, that was me. I was a woman that exuded confidence. They would not see me faulted. Which is why I decided that 5 more minutes without showing my face would be better than arriving looking like I had just been caught in a wind tunnel.

I wish I was one of those women who always had it together. They could run 5K and jump into a board meeting right after. These were the women that ran the world, and made sure everyone around them knew it.

The cool sink water trickled down my scalp as I worked to slick down the curls that had broken free of the updo I had twisted my hair into. Bathroom mirrors had a good way of letting me know that I looked worse than I felt. Splotchy red cheeks and a slight runny nose no amount of paper towels shoved up my nose would solve was really the look I was going for tonight. Thank you, January. 

Reapplying the light layering of makeup I had slapped on this morning didn't take long, but I couldn't convince myself to pull away from the vanity. My lipstick was perfect and not an eyelash was out of place, yet I couldn’t push away the gnawing that I would never hold up in the eyes of those in Jeno’s circle, in Jeno’s eyes.

“Come on, Y/n,” there was nothing to be worried about. Jeno would be patiently waiting, not worrying in the slightest that it would look weird that his date was missing. His teammates would be too focused on getting as much alcohol in their system in as little amount of time as possible. I would not be participating in that endeavor. Getting plastered in public is asking for something to go wrong. I did not need my image having “party animal” attached to it.  

“Who does he think he is demanding that I quit my job? That bag of shriveled up- oh,” wide eyes blinked at me as the door to the bathroom slammed open. The badge that hung from her hip confirmed that she was a member of the Angel’s team. If I remembered correctly, Marketing and PR, under that brick Vanessa. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I find that venting is best performed in front of an audience and I thought that it was just going to be my reflection tonight But now you’re here. Do you mind? It’s just-there is this man that I was trying to help- if he would just let me, but apparently all my ideas are stupid and not worthy of a mighty Angel. See if I try to help him again. I mean what kind of person says that ” 

“You’re fine,” the timid smile I tried to give looked more like a grimace as I glanced one more time in the mirror. She had steamrolled me and there was not an inkling idea how I was supposed to respond to that. Rushing to the door I considered thanking her for finally kicking my feet into gear. Even if it was by the desire to get away from the word vomit she had thrown at a virtual stranger. “I am just going to leave.”

She cringed at me as if realizing her faux pas,  “Have a good night.”

I had to get out of there. 

Now I was definitely not running down the hall, but I could have broken the record for fastest speed walk I’m sure. So much for freshening up. It wouldn’t matter, most of the people I was going to be interacting with would not remember this night anyway. 

Pausing in front of the door, I tried to fix my face to exude happiness and openness. I was inviting. I was there to celebrate and have a good time. I would not make people think I was trying to escape the entire night.

“No,” the woman’s voice barely rose above the music blasting through the music. My stomach dropped at the panic lacing that word. “You need to stop. Don’t say it.” The cracked closet door in the hall pushed just farther open. If something happened to her then-

“What? You don’t want me to tell you I love you? I have been in love since before I had a name for the feeling I get in my chest when you are around. There has not been a time that I have not loved you. You must see that.”

Blood rushed to my ears as I approached the door. Fear poked the back of my skull and my throat went dry. 

“Jeno,” my heart sank as her voice cracked. “I can’t”

“Why?” There it went. My heart shattered on the floor, stomped on by a man who loved someone else.

“There are so many reasons! Your job and reputation, mine, the fact that you have a girlfriend!”

"She's not you!" Heat raced up my chest and ignited in my face. My chest heaved as I pulled in a wet breath. I watched, aching, as he leaned forward, cupping her cheeks, “She’s a fake girlfriend. You know that Y/n is a fake girlfriend. She is a friend. All I see is you.” 

Right. 

Fake.

As I wipe at the tears that have pressed at the corners of my eyes, I spin away from the door and scowl as I come face to face with Jaehyun, the Angel’s laid back Tight End and one of Jeno’s closest friends. 

I would not look foolish in front of him,  getting teary-eyed at the knowledge that my fake boyfriend loved his social media manager. Look him in the eye, raise your chin, don’t let it wobble, keep your feet straight and limbs loose. I knew about this, Jeno has not taken me off guard. I would convince myself of this and Jaehyun would be none the wiser.

“Excuse me,” voice clipped, I pushed past the man that towered over common-folk. “I have a party to be attending.”

Finally pushing through the doors a grin presses at my teeth and I mentally correct my mantra for the night, reset my racing thoughts and remember that I am there for one reason.

I have faked being in love with Jeno Lee for 93 days and everyone was going to believe it.

[aleksa-sims]

RL Simself Story

Finally arrived at home after a long day at the hospital. N. & I had planned to see each other later, but we'll catch up on our date tomorrow. I was so tired... My family was exciting waiting for me at home. My Mom made dinner. She and Ana immediately wanted to see my Baby's first Ultrasound pic.

My Mom took my Baby's pic and hung it up on the wall next to Ana’s and my photo in a empty, nice frame, where Daniel's & my pic was before.😔 A nice gesture to show me, that she is happy about my Baby. Though the situation was still a bit tense. My Dad wasn’t upset or anything, but he usually didn’t say anything, when we talked about Nico's & my Baby. He was also happy for me, supported me and all this, but he was more reserved when it came to my pregnancy. He was worried about my Baby’s development & health due to the meds I was taking.🙁

After dinner I played with my cat. Ana & I constantly took pics of Lucky. He’s so cute, he really enjoed posing for us. Lucky loved it at my parent's place. He was so happy here. Meanwhile it became his new home.

I missed my room & my bed, while I was at my grandparents. Here it's just more comfortable for me. My bedding smelled wonderful. Soft & pleasantly fresh. Idk how my Mom does it, but she, her/our home and stuff, always smells perfect. I was even often asked at work by co-workers, who sat next to me in the office, what kind of nice smell this is on my clothes? Anyway! Even though I slept well, the next morning I didn't feel good.

I realized that I usually felt nauseous in the morning after waking up since I was pregnant. I had to eat something to get rid of my nausea. I just didn't know that yet at that time. My Mom heard me in the bathroom. I coughed and choked, my stomach was empty but my body still reflexively tried to throw up. Anyone who’s ever been pregnant knows what I mean. However, after I was.... done, I was totally exhausted but I felt a relief. As I washed my hands, my Mom came to me in the bathroom. She immediately started scrubbing the toilet.😅🤦‍♀️She's such a neat FREAK!

Me: Mom? What are you doing? I was just about to clean the toilet.

Mom: It's ok. You can take a shower so you will still have enough time for breakfast before going to work. I just wanna help you... I know how you feel rn. It's.... not fair.

Me: Not fair? What do you mean?

Mom: Well, having a child... Everything always stucks with us women. Pregnancy, delivery and even later. But you're not alone, A. Your Dad are there.

Me: I know. Thanks. But N. will help me too. He wants that.

Mom: Why isn’t he with you? He promised to be there for you. But to me it seems... Nico doesn’t add anything to all this. I mean... your Baby will need a room, a bed, a stroller and many other little things. Like I said, your Dad and I will handle all this. But I think Nico or his parents should add something too. They are doing a lot better financially than us, A. I hope you don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to argue with you or him. But you should tell his Mom. They need to know you’re pregnant. He will soon have to go abroad again. His parents should also help a bit.

Me: You're right! I'm gonna talk to him later. But about N. & me, you're wrong! It was my fault.

Mom: When he was sleeping with you, he didn’t mind you being married. Now that it’s getting serious, you’re pregnant, he suddenly got doubts?

Me: Yea, that's right. He'd say I failed him. He trusted me, but I hesitated with the divorce. You know?

Mom: Look, I’m staying out of your.... relationship. But some important details, you should make clear to him!... For Nico nothing has really changed. He will continue to play soccer, live abroad and you will be here alone with your child. Make sure he will support you financially! Tell his family, A.!

And again, my Mom was right! 🙁I'll be here alone. I have to sort all these things out with him. We don’t have much time left. Only 2 months! In September he has to go back abroad.

Previous/Next

[rosemarycrowley]

I have read the autobiography of the man who was no longer human. The walking corpse of a soon to be suicide. 

I have read the story of Oba Yozo. And also the story of Osamu Dazai.

I have noticed the similarities. Dazai's tendency to leave not just fragments but whole morsels of himself in his work. Is it a way to explore his own psyche ? To try to understand himself? To make the readers feel what he felt? To validate his own emotions? 

Oba Yozo wasn't a good man. He drank and drank and wasted his precious life away. He mistreated women and only used them to satisfy his own needs. That part we all agree on. That's somewhat the part that most of booktok grasped from the whole three notebooks that recounted his life. They saw him as he saw himself. Nothing but trash. Nothing but an empty carcass. Something that is not human and that has never been human. Now here's what I think: I think that when read literature, it is not to judge someone's character and choose whoever's right and whoever's wrong. It is not to point fingers and "cancel" characters. The point of literature is to push us to analyse those characters, it makes us want to delve into their mind and dismantle their every thought and try to make sense of it all. And that is the beauty of it. 

Now let's go back to our man.

Yozo was very much human. His humanity resided in the fact that he was scared. He was deeply scared of how people would perceive him. It started when he was young and wondered about life and traditions and why his father was a sacred figure to him, how he was too afraid to disappoint him. It was the lack of communication and reassurance from his parents that helped nourish this social anxiety and pushed him to perfect his "people mask" only to be trapped by it to the point of believing that he is nothing, a mere monster without that mask. So he continued on with his people pleasing and took up drinking to escape the mental disorders that came with it. And that was his downfall.

There was a point where I looked for who I should blame for the way that he is. I was even inclined to diagnose him with sociopathy but I felt that it was unfair to do so. He was the result of his own thoughts and his environment. 

Although short, it took me a while to finish the book. I had to read it bit by bit to feel it all the way he did. It broke my heart many many times. It broke me when he prayed to God for one more moment of happiness, no matter how gut- wrenching the misery that will come after it. He believed that the bare minimum for someone to feel human is to be happy. Even for one moment. And the fact that he never felt happiness nor unhappiness deprived him from that title.

Did he really never feel happy? Or did he do whatever is in his power to be as far away from it out of fear? Out of fear of loss ? That the pain of losing said happiness would destroy him ? Then why did he pray to God in that way ? Was it because it was his last shred of fate that he was willing to offer up ? Was it his last chance at life ? 

And you know what destroyed my heart the most? It was how he ended up getting a taste of that happiness, and he lost it. And he felt that despair. And he lived on in misery.

Now what did I think of this book.

I thought it was brilliant. I loved how straight forward it was, how Yozo shared his deepest thoughts in the notebook and how it was given to us raw and untouched.

I also found traced of Dazai all over it. And not just because he was the author. But because it was very much like his life. It was all too similar to miss.

This book felt like a confession. It felt like despair and deep deep sadness. It felt like a memoir with a suicide note aftertaste. To think that it was Dazai's last book before he went to other side only confirms my feelings. 

All in all, it's one of my favourite books to date, it's been annotated and loved and cared for and I appreciate the person who gifted it to me.

[nabibeans]

MILF! HWA // College! joong.

•

Hongjoong and Seonghwa weren’t exactly your average couple; especially when it came to their age gap, Hongjoong himself was 25 while Seonghwa had just turned 36. Not that he cared even in the slightest that his beautiful girlfriend was older than him, she was the woman of his dreams and that’s all that mattered. He’d do anything for the love of his life; no matter what the cost, a ding from his phone captured his attention.

🐰🍯: baby, I started my period. Can you bring home some tampons? They’re in a purple box when you go to the store. Thank you, I love you. ❤️

Fuck. Maybe he was a bit too whipped. Hongjoong however replied that he would indeed get his girlfriend the tampons she needed; and he’d also grab a few of her favorite period snacks and a comfy blanket to cuddle into while he wasn’t home, his queen deserved the best and that was exactly what he was going to give her. “Hey man, what are you doing after class wanna hang out?” Mingi, his long time friend sat next to him. There was only a few minutes left so everyone was preparing to leave and go home for the day. “Ah my girlfriend isn’t feeling well, so I’m gonna head to the store and get some things for her.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows. “Did you knock her up?” , “god! No Mingi! She’s on birth control. She got her period, that’s all.” That seemed to have catch the attention of Jongho in front of him. “You do know what tampons to get right? Yeosang gave me one hell of a lecture when I didn’t buy the right ones last time. It’s a good thing she’s pregnant so I won’t get bitched at for nine months.” Yeosang was Jongho’s girlfriend of 10 years. They’d been dating since high school and never once split up, “I think so? She said they’re in a purple box.” He decided it would be better to confirm by looking online first, only to discover there were a ton of tampons that came in purple boxes. “Fuck.” , “How old is she? That could help.”

Hongjoong blushed scratching the back of his neck, “she’s 35.” , “oh shit!?” The two men beside him said in unison. They certainly hadn’t expected their friend to be into older women. “Okay so she needs something comfortable but will get the job done. I’ll come with you and show you what I usually get Yeosang if that helps.” Jongho was a blessing. Truly. “Thanks Jongho, I really don’t want to face her wrath right now.” Once class was over Jongho and Hongjoong headed to the nearest store together to get everything they needed; Yeosang had requested her favorite candy and who was Jongho to deny his pregnant girlfriend. “Since she’s older she’ll likely need a smaller size since she’s not bleeding as much.” Hongjoong piped up quickly, “oh seonghwa has heavy periods, she has Endometriosis.” Jongho mentally slapped himself. “Okay so these.” He quickly picked up a purple box and pressed it into Hongjoong’s hands. “These are what she meant. If not tell her it’s my fault. Now let’s get out of here before anyone comes down this aisle.” Hongjoong would have to thank him later.

•

Back at home; Seonghwa was curled up on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a blanket draped over her shoulders, her eyes had dark circles under them. “Hurry home Joongie, I need you.” She sighed dropping the spoon into the now empty ice cream pint as she began to cry again. Her whole body hurt; she felt so nauseous , and all she wanted was her boyfriend to come home and cuddle up with her in bed.

The front door unlocked with a click before opening, “hey baby I’m home- why are you crying!? Seonghwa…my love.” Hongjoong immediately put the bag down rushing over to his girlfriend, wrapping her up in his arms tightly. Seonghwa allowed herself to cry freely as she cuddled against her boyfriend. “My body is just so…gross. And I feel so nauseous but I keep eating shitty food and I missed you.” The older woman clung to her lover, letting him soothe her as she cried. Hongjoong kissed her tears away softly as he rocked his lover, “sounds like my honey bunny needs a nice relaxing bubble bath and then some cuddles in bed with a movie. How’s that sound baby? I’ll clean up while you take a bath.” Seonghwa nodded through her tears, happy her boyfriend was so caring. “Yes, thank you baby. Did you get what I asked for?” Hongjoong grabbed the bag nodding. “I got your tampons, and some snacks and a heating pad. You’re all set for the week babe.” He leaned in to kiss his girlfriend softly, her plush lips molding to his perfectly.

“Thank you baby, I love you.” , “I love you too.” Hongjoong kissed her one more time before getting up to start the bath for his girlfriend, letting her soak while he cleaned up the apartment. Cleaning up the couch and coffee table; setting out a menu for dinner later, making the bed and adding an extra blanket to keep Seonghwa extra comfy. He even laid out her favorite pajamas! Seonghwa eventually emerged from the bathroom, she looked much more relaxed now than she had before. “I feel much better, thank you baby.” Her arms wrapped around Hongjoong’s neck for another kiss. His hands found her hips, kissing his girlfriend lovingly. “Of course baby, you deserve it. Now let’s get comfy and cuddle okay?” Seonghwa nodded pulling away from her boyfriend to get dressed.

Their evening was filled with lots of cuddling and kissing; Hongjoong’s head resting on top of Seonghwa’s as she had finally drifted to sleep in his arms, her vanilla shampoo invading his nose whenever she’d shift underneath his chin. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, just letting his beautiful girlfriend sleep in his arms while he ordered dinner for the two of them, something simple and easy to eat in bed since he didn’t want to move Seonghwa too much. After a few moments; his love stirred from her sleep rubbing her eyes, “did I fall asleep?” Hongjoong nodded kissing her forehead. “You did, but I wanted you to sleep since you looked tired.” Seonghwa nodded in agreement sitting up slowly with her boyfriend.

“Thank you for taking care of me babe.” , “I always will.” The couple shared a passionate kiss. Their evening together just getting started.

This is just one of many Milf! Fem! Seonghwa fics I’ve written. Maybe I’ll post more here soon? This one was pretty short and a little rushed. 🙃

[theoastor]

. . . dependent original character for nightrestrp : THEO ASTOR \

more links : pinterest. connections. playlist.

[ felix mallard, cis man, he/him ] - was that THEO ASTOR i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY-SIX year old who has been in nightrest for HIS ENTIRE LIFE ON AND OFF and works as NANNY has a reputation of being EASYGOING, but also DENSE. they reside in STOUGHTON ESTATES & people in town usually associate them with DISCARDED HEADSHOTS, A LIGHT AND CASUAL DEMEANOR, GIFTED DESIGNER CLOTHING, & AN EMPTY BRAIN.. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

BASIC INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Theo William Astor

NICKNAMES: N/A

DATE OF BIRTH: October 15th, 1996

ETHNICITY: White-American

FACE CLAIM: Felix Mallard

HAIR & EYE COLOR: Dark Brown

HEIGHT: 5’11”

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: None

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

OCCUPATION: Live-In Nanny for Dilara Kaplan

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English

BACKGROUND: 

grew up in nightrest in an upper-middle class household, with a few siblings. his family was very loving, and never placed many expectations on any sibling besides wanting them to try their best. theo was best known for his personality, rather than any talents. he wasn’t particularly smart, or athletically gifted, but he was always very friendly and outgoing. as a result, in school, his grades usually suffered and theo often needed a tutor to pass most classes, but he was known for being a fun-loving pretty boy. 

to compensate for being an average student, theo tried to work at least to show his parents he wasn’t entirely useless. he worked at mama’s for a couple months before getting fired, waiting tables and having to remember so many things hard for him at the time. since he’d taken care of one of his little sisters when he was growing up, theo figured he’d be good at babysitting, and started doing that to make some money. it helped that he was well liked, despite being a little slow, and many of the mothers in town saw him as cute and let him help out. he babysat for a particularly rich family that lived in stoughton estates for a while, the mother a talent agent who was often out of town for work. after babysitting her kids for about a year, she told him that he was good-looking enough to become a model, and offered to take him on as a client granted he move to la when he graduated high school. seeing as he didn’t have any idea of what he wanted to do, theo agreed and his parents supported him.

when he moved to la, he managed to do well when he started off, booking small gigs at first and eventually becoming well known enough to land himself on the covers of magazine and become a print model for designer brands. though, it wasn’t his pretty face that got him entirely there, as he had a charm that appealed to more than a few female celebrities, becoming known for brief flings with older women that were often over the tabloids. without really noticing, he developed a reputation and became favored by most female photographers in the industry. theo just figured they were being nice, and didn’t entirely get why. 

he became well off, but over time, he felt like a lot of his life had become superficial. in the beginning, he had fun modelling and being able to make a name for himself, but it had began to feel like more of a chore than anything else after all those years and have more of a stable life. when he heard what happened in nightrest at the charity gala, he decided to move back home, missing the place he’d grown up with and wanting to see the people he’d missed.

having only a high school diploma and modeling experience, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for a new job for theo. he had made more than enough money to live comfortably for a while, but he was the kind of person that grew bored easily, so he wanted to have something to do and feel happy about. theo remembered enjoying babysitting kids a lot when he was younger, his easgoing demeanor making it easy for pretty much all babies and children to like him. he had a few connections around town still, and got a recommendation to become dilara kaplan’s new live-in nanny.

HEADCANONS

very stupid, but very sweet <3 he’s basically a puppy and gets along with pretty much everyone. his personality is very charming and light-hearted, so theo has never struggled to make friends

definitely not the brightest guy. despite having been with a lot of women, he’s not really good at flirting and doesn’t get what to do besides being nice and giving them a pretty smile

has a lot of expensive clothing, mainly because of modeling. most of his closet was gifted to him and he’s rarely gone shopping.

is a very nurturing person, very much a feeling over thinking kind of person. he gets along well with kids and animals very well probably because he’s simple-minded like them

doesn’t have any tattoos because of his former job, but also has never really thought about what he’d want either

was famous among other celebrities while living in los angeles, but is still just a regular guy underneath it all and you wouldn’t recognize him unless you were really looking

WANTED CONNECTIONS

ride or die

close friends

childhood friends

other stupid people &lt;3

fwb/hookups/flings

exes

[batj]

thinking abt TJ’s comphet and inner homophobia

[captains-simp]

can you do a fic where reader unintentionally breaks one of the rules by accident so she has to be punished but the punishment is being ignored by BOTH wanda AND nat and reader is uncomfortable with being ignored because it makes her feel invisible and like she's a ghost so like this is what happens, reader breaks a rule in front of wanda and nat but reader doesn't realize she broke a rule but wanda and nat punish reader without telling reader first, and they punish her by not acknowledging her presence and stuff then reader just breaks and starts crying and stuff, she's really upset until nat and wanda cave in and see what's wrong with reader because they didnt know that reader didnt realize she broke a rule and her punishment was being ignored by them

also nat is dom, wanda is switch (like wanda is sub to nat but dom to reader) and reader is sub also nat, wanda and reader are in a poly dom/sub relationship and dating

Oh my god is this ✨smut with a developed storyline✨?

Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff ~ 3rd Wheel

Warnings: debatable toxic traits, feelings of abandonment and unlove, fingering, praise, oral and hints of overstimulation

2.4k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You giggled as Sam made stupid sound effects every time he paused in telling his story. You were pretty sure the story wasn’t true but hearing him tell it was entertaining enough. He put his hand on your forearm as he laughed at his own comeback to some apparently ‘very real’ character in the story and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. That was until your other arm was grabbed and pulled you to your feet. 

“It’s late, we should go.” Natasha said curtly. You nodded and said goodbye to Sam with a tight hug and followed after the Russian as Wanda joined her at her side. 

“How did your meeting go?” You teased the redheads. Officially, what you had just attended was a party. Unofficially, it was a chance for Natasha and Wanda to gather more intel for a future mission that they had been working on for months. Tony, to no one’s surprise, was more than happy to help by hosting the party and it was just like any other to everyone else. You had missed your girlfriend’s company at first, but had eventually started socializing with the others and the night had flown by. 

When you were met with silence you assumed you didn’t hear either of their responses over the music so you sped up your steps slightly to stick close by. Once you got to the car you knew they were in a bad mood. It was one thing when one of them was mad but both of them was a whole other storm. Not that it was always bad. Sometimes they would take that anger out on you in the bedroom and you had secretly been dying to be fucked like that for a while. 

You tried to make conversation a few times, telling the pair about Sam’s story and how it was probably about as real as fairies but they still didn’t respond. Of course, you had no idea that these things were just making them madder and that Wanda and Natasha were communicating silently most of the time, discussing the meeting as they ignored you. You gave up eventually and gazed out the window as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. 

Once you were home things only seemed to get worse. “I made dinner before we left.” You said as you looked under the grill to find that the three served plates were still fine and put them on the counter. You had cooked before getting ready because you knew your girlfriends were busy and were going to be hungry when they got home. You glanced at the two women to see Natasha undoing her girlfriend’s zipper and placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. You smiled at the tender site. 

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” You teased as Natasha started towards the bedroom but shouldered right past you. You looked to Wanda but she didn’t spare you a glance either as she strolled through the apartment to your shared bedroom. You watched them go with a dry mouth and dragged yourself to the bathroom where you struggled to undo the zipper of your dress before finally succeeding after five minutes of struggling and sore arms. One of the redheads usually did it for you before you could even think to ask.  

You stepped into the shower and tried to focus on the feeling of the hot water running down your body, hoping it would distract you from the dull ache near your heart. It didn’t work. You wondered if you had done anything to annoy them at the party but could think of nothing. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the safety of the shower. You quickly dried off and tiptoed to your now-empty bedroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you went back into the kitchen you found only one of the plates was left. You glanced over at the living area to see Wanda and Natasha curled up together on the couch under a blanket as they watched TV and ate the food you made. They could have at least warmed mine up. You grumbled to yourself as you put it in the microwave and made yourself a drink. You trudged over to the couch but Wanda extended her legs to cover the free space just as you were about to sit down. You looked up at them both but their eyes were still glued to the TV. 

You sat down tentatively on the armchair closest to the couch and started taking small bites of your food. You weren’t paying attention to the screen at all. Instead, your eyes kept flickering to the two redheads curled up on the couch together. They looked so warm and tender laying together. You wished so desperately you could be with them, but instead you just felt like an outsider. That had always been a big insecurity for you. Wanda and Natasha were both Avengers and you were just a normal citizen. You often wondered if you ever felt like a burden, the weak part of their relationship. You could never understand their lives the way they could, you could only watch. Usually, you would voice your concerns and insecurities to them and they would assure you to no end that they loved you more than anything. However speaking had gotten you nowhere that night, so you kept it to yourself. 

You sat in the living room for hours. You wanted to go to bed so badly. You were utterly exhausted and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lights in the room you wanted to be shielded from. But you were determined not to go until the other two did. You wanted to be curled up between them both like you always were. You wanted to feel safe and secure and most of all loved. 

Finally, Natasha turned off the television and stretched out like a cat on the couch before standing and making her way to the bedroom, leading Wanda by the hand. You put your uneaten plate of food on the side to deal with the next day, too tired to even think about it at that moment. The pair instantly dropped down into bed and Natasha held Wanda tightly as she rested her head on the Russian’s chest. You gazed down at them longingly but forced yourself into bed besides them. You reached out your hand to tug weakly on their shirts, desperate for any kind of acknowledgement but received none. You withdrew your hand and held it up to your chest as you watched the pair. How long had they been craving time to themselves? 

You slowly got out from under the covers and left the room without feeling their usual fond gazes on your back. You lingered in the hallway before glancing back and saw Natasha tracing circles on Wanda’s back. You gulped back tears and made your way to the spare bedroom where you slept alone for the first time in months. 

*

You didn’t get up until lunch the next day. You didn’t feel like doing anything, especially not facing your girlfriend. You wanted to stay out of their way to give them the alone time they so clearly needed.

When you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and into the hallway you froze. Wanda’s moans could be heard clearly from your bedroom followed by sharp cries of Natasha’s name. You stood rooted to the spot as the pain in your chest grew worse. Since they had so keenly invited you into their relationship. The pair had never once done anything sexual without you. At first you had been flattered and insisted that you were okay if they wanted to do things by themselves every once in a while but eventually you had grown used to how things were. You had grown used to being included in everything. 

Numbly, you made yourself a hot chocolate in hopes of it raising your spirits. Not long after you had finished, your girlfriends came wandering into the kitchen with a new glow. 

“Do you want a drink?” You piped up, you could at least be helpful. Wanda grabbed something from the fridge as Natasha took out a glass from the cupboard and spun around to kiss her girlfriend on the lips with a soft giggle. Wanda smiled against her and hummed when Natasha’s tongue teased the Sokovian’s lower lip. 

“I love you.” Natasha hummed and Wanda smiled with a blush as she said the words back. 

“I- I love you too.” You added and took a desperate step towards them both, holding out your hands to them but they separated and started to stroll back into the living room. You watched on as tears sprung to your eyes. They didn’t say it back. They always said it back. “Please.” You whispered though you may have well have been talking to a wall. You whimpered quietly and weakly made your way to the guest room where you closed the door and fell down onto the bed, not being able to stop the tears streaming down your face. You curled up on yourself and hugged your duvet as close to your body as possible, needing something to cling onto like a lifeline. 

You didn’t hear the door open through your muffled weeping. You did feel the gentle pair of hands on your waist and the dip in the bed either side of you. Your head shot up and you looked between the pair in panic, fearing they were going to tell you to go elsewhere for the day or even forever. Wanda shushed you softly and held your dampened cheeks in her hands. 

“It’s okay, honey.” Wanda cooed and you whimpered as you tried to enjoy what you assumed was the last time she would hold you. “We’re not going anywhere and neither are you.” You peered at her cautiously and then Natasha who nodded gently. 

“We’re sorry, baby. Sam was getting a little too handsy last night and you didn’t seem to notice.” Natasha explained carefully. You remembered the brief moment he had touched your waist and frowned at the memory. 

“And you know letting people touch what isn’t theirs is breaking a rule.” You nodded slowly as Wanda added on.

“So your punishment was being ignored by us so you could learn but we took it too far.” Natasha admitted.

“And we never told you what was happening. We’re so sorry we made you feel this way, sweetie. We love you so much.” Wanda said as she kissed you softly on the lips as Natasha lay down behind you and wrapped her arms protectively around your waist. 

“So so much.” She added. 

“Promise?” You asked and Wanda lay down to join you and wipe your tears away. 

“Always.” 

“Let us show you.” Natasha whispered against your neck and you nodded as she rolled you gently onto your back and began planting soft kisses along your neck, occasionally lingering on patches of skin to suck dark bruises into them. Wanda titled your head towards you and kissed you slowly, cherishing the taste of you and wanting to reclaim all that she could. 

Natasha’s hands started to wander down your stomach and landed at the hem of your sweatpants that she easily surpassed along with your panties. You gasped when you felt her fingers run along your folds and up to your clit. You bucked your hips and moaned against Wanda when she applied some pressure, all while the Sokovian started to retrace her girlfriend’s steps by running her hands across your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples and she hummed against you. 

Natasha finally pushed two fingers past your folds and relished in the slick that coated them instantly. She curled them gently inside you and withdrew to start about making a consistent pace that had you melting beneath them both. 

“That’s it, sweetie.” Wanda assured in the most loving tone you had ever heard from her. 

“Taking me so well. Our best girl.” Natasha hummed and withdrew her fingers. You whined softly but shushed when Natasha brought her fingers up to Wanda’s lips and slid them inside. The Sokovian hummed in delight around Natasha’s fingers, eagerly licking her slender digits before retreating to start down your body, determined to gain an unfiltered taste. 

Wanda pulled your sweatpants and panties off completely and kissed up your thighs softly, taking her time in treasuring you just as Natasha had done with your neck. She gleamed at the sight before her and didn’t hesitate to lick a long strip between your folds. You mewled in Natasha’s hold as Wanda moaned against you. “Always so sweet.” She dipped her tongue inside of you and you clenched around her muscle with a gasp.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” Natasha praised softly as she started to rub your clit with her free hand. You bucked against both their movements, feeling beautifully overwhelmed by it all. Wanda’s tongue flicked inside you and you moaned loudly into the air, tempting Natasha to quieten you with a kiss while your other girlfriend continued to work between your legs that were beginning to shake. 

“Please.” You whined as you felt your high approaching. The pair smiled at one another as they continued to please you. 

“I can feel you clenching my tongue.” Wanda mused.

“Go ahead and cum for us, baby.” You did as you were told without a second’s delay. You moaned loudly into the air as you shuddered against the bed and came undone on Wanda’s tongue. The pair helped you ride out your high and into another orgasm relentlessly. They didn’t let up, making you cum again and once more, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted and overworked. 

“That’s it, darling. You did so good for us.” Wanda praised as she fell down besides you and they both held you protectively. 

“We love you.” Natasha muttered softly and you smiled.

“I love you both too.” You hummed, enjoying the warmth of your girlfriends’ comfort.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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[your-daily-biaswrecking]

I wanna say that namjoons dad bestfriend drabble was so freaking hot….🥵🥵🥵 maybe part 2? 🙏 when they make out in family house of yn? And her dad is next room 👀 i am so dirty pls forgive me😂

can't believe it took me so long to answer this... okay, so, my requests are not open but i decided to clear up my inbox a bit, starting with this one. as for this part 2... i know it could have been just a short scene with pure smut, but i wanted the drama of the plot, okay? also i'm not doing another psa: this is wrong and pls don't do this, it's just fiction

part 1

Namjoon knew he had to stop this. This... Whatever it was the two of you had. He had found excuses to come see you multiple times throughout the winter, always missing you too much and being unable to stay away for too long. But when you surprised him, secretly coming back to your hometown to be with just him for a week, he wasn't as happy. It was the first reminder of how different your worlds were; he was a grown man minding his career, at an age where he should be seeking marriage and kids. And you? You were skipping school to see your crush.

"I think my daughter has a boyfriend," his best friend casually told him one day soon after that. Namjoon froze, his heart the only thing reacting to those words. But his friend went on nonchalantly, pointing to his ignorance. "I don't mind, of course. I've only told her one thing, and it's not to get pregnant. I don't want her to go through what her mother and I went through, you know? She's at this age... you know? She needs to enjoy her age."

Namjoon... The grown man who should be seeking marriage and kids was fucking this girl. All those times he came inside you, filling you up a little too aggressively– as if deep down he wished he'd knock you up and keep you to himself forever.

He had to end this.

When he told you those same words –you need to enjoy your age, you need to be with a peer– you seemed more mad than hurt. But perhaps you understood. You weren't stupid, you too knew this was wrong. Perhaps you were just waiting for it to happen, waiting for the excitement of doing something against the rules to die out and the realization of the responsibility to hit him. You didn't blame him. But you were still annoyed. Stopped talking altogether, the only news he got from you now came from your father. You did get a boyfriend, or so he was told. And you were doing well with your studies and you were generally living a great student's life.

Summertime and you were here again. Along with your so-called boyfriend. Namjoon was so pissed off when he saw the skinny, mussy, sweaty boy that seemed to either be very slow or high off his ass all the time. And you seemed pleased with yourself.

"You really had to bring him here?"

You chuckled– an evil laugh, he thought. "I thought you'd be happy to see me dating someone my age." When your eyes met his, you made him feel like your positions were switched. So confident while he was almost throwing a tantrum. "What about you?" you asked. "Dating anyone your age?"

On that topic, Namjoon had more than enough women showing interest. And your father, for some reason, was dead set on finding him a wife. All those blind dates he had to escape from! He was simply not interested. He didn't want to admit it was because he was still thinking about you; that no one else would ever be a good replacement for you. He didn't want to because he didn't plan on coming back to you; he had to be the adult, the mature one, and stay away. It was the logical and the right thing to do. He didn't want to admit that, despite all of his intelligence and reason, he still thought about you... Because if he did this would no longer be just some attraction, just some fucking around. If he admitted it was more, what would happen then?

No... this was good. You had already moved on. Enjoying your life the way you were supposed to, a life he had no room to be in. All he had to do now was follow your example.

"Namjoon..."

That text was sent past 2 am on a rainy night in October. The only text he had gotten from you in months. That was all it said yet it made his stomach tight as if you had moaned his name in his ear. As if he knew exactly why you had texted him; needy in the middle of the night, that measly boy surely unable to satisfy you, knowing exactly who could help you at that moment. Fuck... Perhaps if he replied right then things would go back to how they were a year ago. He didn't. And you didn't text him again.

"Joon! You are staying for the holidays, right? You should spend Christmas with us." Your father was more than happy to share that day meant to be with family, with his best friend. Namjoon was like family anyway, wasn't he? When he tried to come up with an excuse, the other insisted. "See? If you were married now you would have someone to spend Christmas with, but you're not, so you'll come to spend it with our family. My daughter's coming home tomorrow, too. Ah. Could you pick her up 'cause–"

"No. I can't. Too busy."

The man laughed. "It's okay. But I am expecting you for dinner on Christmas!" he said with a pointing finger. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

And so there he was. Sitting right across from you at the table. In the months that had passed, you had gained some weight and he thought you had never looked better. Your face a little fuller, your jeans straining against your round thighs and hips, your breasts fitting your curves just right. The body of a grown woman. All Namjoon could think about was feeling you against him again. And he was mad again... Did your stupid boyfriend have the chance to fuck you like that? He didn't deserve you.

"You didn't bring that boy with you this time..." he commented.

"What, Eric?" your mother answered for you. "They broke up."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, eyes never leaving yours. "Really? How come?"

The corner of your lips turned upwards. "He was just... Too much of a kid."

He hated the way he sighed in relief, the way excitement bubbled in his stomach. He shouldn't be as happy to hear that as he was... He glanced at you again, your hair that had grown longer pushed back to expose your neck. It was getting harder and harder for Namjoon to keep his mind from wandering off to inappropriate things. Along with other parts getting hard.

And then your father spoke. "Joon. You know she's graduating next month, right?" His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead because no– no, he didn't know that. "She's looking for an internship and I thought–"

"Dad..."

"–you could help her get in your company? Maybe you could put in a good word for her?"

"Dad!" Your tone and the way your eyes widened towards your father's way betrayed the fact that the topic hadn't been new, and that you were clearly against the idea.

He looked at you until you finally turned back to face him. And surprising both himself and you, he said: "Yes, of course."

"I'm going to sleep," you announced after the dinner was over and you had helped clean up the table. You gave Namjoon a long glance before you disappeared down the hallway. Your parents had moved to the couch, TV on for some music and a game of cards keeping them busy when their friend asked to go to the bathroom. And you heard a soft knock on your door. "I'm assuming you know that's the wrong door you're knocking at," you spoke before you opened. Already in your sleeping outfit that consisted of an oversized t-shirt and just your panties.

"You knew it was me?" Namjoon whispered, eyes still stuck on your thighs.

"My parents don't knock."

You let him in, closing the door behind you and leaning on it as you looked up at him through your lashes. You both stayed silent for a moment, your breaths the only thing filling the empty, badly lit room. You noticed how he wet his plump lips and bit them while he was examining your face. So close you could smell his aroma, the one you never forgot.

“You don’t have to… you know,” you spoke, referring to your father’s idea. “I know you want to avoid me.”

Namjoon exhaled from his nose as if he was annoyed. “I- It’s not that I want to…”

“I know.” You gulped, finding your mouth wetting too much at the wish of kissing him, along with other parts getting wet. “You don’t want to— you have to.” You dared place your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling away, he leaned into your touch. Feeling his heart beat fast under your fingertips like the way he was breathing. He was slowly losing his mind but he knew he wasn’t the only one. “You don’t have to push me away,” you continued in a low tone. “I know what I’m doing. I’m the one coming to you.”

“Little one…” he rasped, and it had you catching a moan in the back of your throat. Oh, how you longed for his pet names, his voice calling to you lovingly. He stepped even closer. He knew he shouldn’t be there, he shouldn’t be doing this right now… But how could he stop? He wanted you so bad. His hands cupped your cheeks, lips just a breath away from yours, brushing against you as he whispered: “Come work with me… I wanna see you every day.”

The fabric of his shirt pooled in your palms as you grabbed him, closing the tiny gap between you. Both of you sighing in a mixture of relief and impatience as your lips crushed together. The softness only lasted a few seconds before you were moaning and Namjoon was pinning you on the door, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue in like he was trying to devour you. Your arms wrapped around him while his hands traveled down your body, groping you like you were his stress relief toy. Your hips, your ass… He broke the kiss and buried his face in your neck.

“Ah- daddy,” you whined, grinding on him.

Namjoon felt like he was about to cry. “I missed you so much!” he choked out right before latching his teeth on your skin. Your naughty fingers were struggling to unzip his pants quickly and it made him chuckle instead of sob. “Fuck—” he growled. And he pulled back to stare at you with dark eyes. “Such a little slut, so desperate for my cock.” There he was; the Namjoon you knew so well. His words made you shiver.

“Please, daddy. I need you right now.”

He placed a hand on the door right next to your head, while he freed his dick with the other. “Your parents are right outside.”

Ignoring his words, you discarded your panties and took him in your hand, biting your lip. “I can’t wait any longer, need you to fuck me right now, plea-ase!” you whined a little too loud and Namjoon growled, grabbing your legs and lifting you until you straddled his waist, back on the door.

“Gosh, you’ll get daddy in big trouble, baby.” Tip of his cock brushing your wet folds, making your mouth drop. “They might come looking for me.”

“Quick,” you sobbed. “Be quick, please, just— ah!”

He slipped inside and you both gasped. Your legs were shaking at the feeling, eyes rolling back and a moan as quiet as you could manage rumbled through your neck. He got as deep as he could, face scrunching as if he was in pain. You kissed him.

“I’ve missed you, daddy. I’ve missed this so much.”

His head was spinning as he was trying to find the right words, the words that could describe exactly how he felt about you. “I- I-”

Laughter echoed through the house— your mother. You both froze. Namjoon glanced at the doorknob, and then he grabbed it; your parents could walk in at any moment. He didn’t stop though, nothing could stop him now. He angled his hips and started thrusting into you; fast and sloppy because the clock was ticking.

“Daddy…” you mewled, unable to do or say anything else.

Namjoon clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh,” he demanded. “You better not start screaming like the little whore you are, or they’ll hear us.”

His words had the opposite effect of what he wanted; making you moan harder. And the fact that he had his big hand over your mouth made you not care to keep quiet. Your choked whines along with the wet sounds of his dick slipping in and out of you could definitely be heard from the other side of the door, perhaps even from that couch your father was on had it not been for the music.

“Shit, you—” he growled. He finally dropped his hand from your mouth, wanting to grab your ass to lift you higher, fuck you better.

Your head fell on his shoulder before you decided to bite down on it to stop yourself from screaming as Namjoon’s thick dick drilled into you with no mercy. “So-o good…”

“Yeah?” He sounded out of breath already, yet cocky. “Did you forget what it’s like to have a real man fuck your pussy, baby? That little boy didn’t do shit, did he? He can’t fuck you as good as daddy, right?”

Your nails dug in his back and you felt your brain so rotten like he was about to fuck you to sleep. “I… don’t know…” you mumbled.

Namjoon stopped. He pulled his head slightly back but he couldn’t see your face. “What?” Your body squirmed, trying to chase that high he had just denied you. “What do you mean—”

“I don’t know what he was like,” you whined. “I only thought of you.”

Another laughter, loud voices coming from that couch. It didn’t scare him that much this time, his heart was already racing and he only gave that direction a glance before he was pulling your head back to look into your eyes. Only then did he notice the tear stains on your cheeks, and you sobbed, choked as he thrust into you again.

“I only thought of you, daddy…” you repeated with a whimper. And it had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, pumping into you a couple more times, hard, before he spilled his seed deep inside.

A whisper. “Fuck…” Panting and groaning as he was trying to come to, and you watching his glistening face as he grimaced and bit his lip. He let you down, resting his forehead on the door while he still struggled to collect himself, and you basked in the pride it gave you. You tucked him back in his underwear and zipped him up with a smirk on your lips, seeing how he finally started to be able to focus his eyes on you.

You opened the door slightly and peeked out; your parents were still playing cards on the couch, they didn’t notice you just like they probably hadn’t noticed how long Namjoon was gone for.

“You should go back,” you whispered as you came back into the room. Namjoon kissed you quickly like he was trying to catch you off guard. And then he grabbed your chin, staring down at you, breaths still coming out too hard.

“Don’t fall asleep, baby. I’ll come back to finish what I started when your father goes to bed.”

You smiled, pushing him slightly back yet he wasn’t budging. “Go…” you prompted as you started feeling his cum sipping out of your cunt and slowly running down your thighs.

Namjoon smiled too. “Really. I’ll eat you out till you pass out, baby, I promise.”

In the dark of the room and the rush of the moment, you decided you had no reason not to let your thoughts slip out. “I wish you could just come to sleep in my arms.”

He got a little serious. And he kissed you again, slower than before. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He left through that door, meeting your parents that were happy to see him yet didn’t even bother to point out his long absence. Sitting next to his best friend while his breathing was still shaky from fucking his daughter.

Shit… That girl will get him in so much trouble…

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