#i literally closed my eyes last night and visualized his face to go to sleep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Golden Pince-Nez pt 2

Oooh map! We have the map. I love maps.

This is a really weird looking house, though. I mean, those two corridors just go from that 1 room directly to either the outside or to the guy's bedroom? That's an unusual layout.

Love that we have a little x to show us exactly where in the room Smith's body was. O Willoughby, Willoughby, Willoughby Smith. We didn't know you and now you're a stiff. O Willoughby, Willoughby, Willoughby, say, From whom did they come, those golden pince-nez?

Apparently a very visually impaired woman whose eyes are remarkably close together and whose nose is rather wide, according to Holmes' assessment anyway.

We saw the cold winter sun rise over the dreary marshes of the Thames and the long, sullen reaches of the river, which I shall ever associate with our pursuit of the Andaman Islander in the earlier days of our career.

Do we know about the Andaman Islander? Am I forgetting something? Is that from one of the novels rather than the short stories, because it's been a long time since I've read those. Also, Watson is clearly feeling uninspired this morning. This is probable because he was up until stupid o'clock last night and then had to be up on time to catch the morning train before breakfast. Poor life choices.

I saw an intent look pass over Holmes's face. “You say that she must have come back this way?” “Yes, sir; there is no other.” “On this strip of grass?” “Certainly, Mr. Holmes.”

Alright... so there's something off about the marks in the grass. The grass is only bent in one direction, perhaps? Idk how tracking in grass works. You know who you need?

"This garden door is usually kept open, I suppose? Then this visitor had nothing to do but to walk in."

I like locked doors. The idea that anyone could just walk into my house at any moment is very upsetting to me. It is the role of the door to prevent that from happening. I could not live like this.

(I literally just tried to undo something and deleted more than half of this post, wtf Tumblr? I will try to reconstruct it from memory)

"Halloa! what is that scratch upon the face of it? Just hold a match, Watson. Why did you not tell me of this, Hopkins?” The mark which he was examining began upon the brass work on the right-hand side of the keyhole, and extended for about four inches, where it had scratched the varnish from the surface. “I noticed it, Mr. Holmes. But you'll always find scratches round a keyhole.”

I was going to defend Hopkins at this point, but then I read that the scratch was 4 inches long and presumable fresh, so nope, sorry, can't help you there. That's kind of a key piece of evidence.

I wonder if the professor is an alcoholic...

Sorry, couldn't resist that one.

"Halloa, Hopkins! this is very important, very important indeed. The Professor's corridor is also lined with cocoanut matting.” “Well, sir, what of that?” “Don't you see any bearing upon the case?"

So many Halloas in this part.

I expect the bearing is that it means the murderer could also have left down this passageway without their footsteps being heard. Which raises suspicion of the Professor.

It was a very large chamber, lined with innumerable volumes, which had overflowed from the shelves and lay in piles in the corners, or were stacked all round at the base of the cases.

Interior decor goals. I mean, I almost live like this already, but still, goals.

The bed was in the centre of the room...

(From This Tumblr Post)

Clearly the Professor is evil. No one else could sleep in a bed like that, unmoored from the world, surrounded by space, adrift from good reason and sanity.

I have seldom seen a more remarkable-looking person. It was a gaunt, aquiline face which was turned towards us, with piercing dark eyes, which lurked in deep hollows under overhung and tufted brows. His hair and beard were white, save that the latter was curiously stained with yellow around his mouth. A cigarette glowed amid the tangle of white hair, and the air of the room was fetid with stale tobacco-smoke. As he held out his hand to Holmes I perceived that it also was stained yellow with nicotine.

'Curiously stained with yellow' > proceeds to immediately explain why it is stained with yellow.

"I can recommend them, for I have them especially prepared by Ionides of Alexandria. He sends me a thousand at a time, and I grieve to say that I have to arrange for a fresh supply every fortnight. Bad, sir, very bad, but an old man has few pleasures."

This guy... this guy imports 1000 cigarettes a fortnight. 1000 a fortnight. That's over 70 a day. That's 3 an hour if he doesn't sleep. 4.5 an hour if he gets 8 hours a night. Sure, the internet tells me it takes about 5 minutes to smoke a cigarette, so he isn't actually chain smoking. He could totally smoke more. Really the take away from this is that he needs to work harder at this and stop his reliance on such unnecessary things as oxygen.

70 a day... yikes.

And he knows it's bad for him, too. What? 40 years before the first study in the US saying the same thing? 60 years before it became big news? The tobacco companies really messed with our understanding of things, huh?

Also, the fact that he can afford to import 1000 cigarettes every two weeks and still has the money to have servants, a nice house, and a secretary. This guy has way more money than any academic I've ever met, that's for sure.

“Alas! what a fatal interruption! Who could have foreseen such a terrible catastrophe? So estimable a young man! I assure you that after a few months' training he was an admirable assistant."

Maybe it's because of how unpleasant his introductory description was. Maybe it's because it was preceded by the implication that the murderer could have got into his room unheard. Or maybe it's just that he asks a rhetorical question here and I can never hear a person in this sort of a situation say 'Who could have forseen such a thing?' without my brain automatically answering 'You, I bet.' But Professor seems sus.

Or maybe it's just his bed.

“I shall indeed be indebted to you if you can throw a light where all is so dark to us. To a poor bookworm and invalid like myself such a blow is paralyzing. I seem to have lost the faculty of thought. But you are a man of action—you are a man of affairs. It is part of the everyday routine of your life. You can preserve your balance in every emergency. We are fortunate indeed in having you at our side.”

Yep, super sus. That's way too much complimenting of Sherlock and way too much insistence upon his own infirmity.

I observed that he was smoking with extraordinary rapidity. It was evident that he shared our host's liking for the fresh Alexandrian cigarettes.

I suspect that this is for a different reason from the one Watson is thinking, but also NO HOLMES, do not be sucked into the 70 imported cigarettes a day pipeline.

“That is my magnum opus—the pile of papers on the side table yonder. It is my analysis of the documents found in the Coptic monasteries of Syria and Egypt, a work which will cut deep at the very foundations of revealed religion. With my enfeebled health I do not know whether I shall ever be able to complete it now that my assistant has been taken from me."

okayokayokay Tentative theory:

The professor's research is based on a lie. Everything he's worked on is based on some incorrect fact about a historical 'she' being somewhere or not being somewhere, and he has (or had) evidence that it was incorrect in his desk. WIlloughby worked it out and was breaking into the desk to get the evidence when the professor snuck up behind him and stabbed him in the neck, then scarpered back up the passage-way as fast as his tar-filled lungs would let him.

“I am a connoisseur,” said he, taking another cigarette from the box—his fourth—and lighting it from the stub of that which he had finished.

OK, now that is chain smoking. I really hope there's a reason for this and it isn't just a weird thing ACD put in for no reason.

"What do you imagine that this poor fellow meant by his last words: ‘The Professor—it was she’?”

That his research was a house of cards, built on nothing but hot air. That he was a fraud and his thesis fabrication. That his entire life's work would be worth more as kindling than as an academic paper.

Maybe I'm basing things on vibes again, a little bit. Sorry.

“Susan is a country girl,” said he, “and you know the incredible stupidity of that class."

Nope. Fuck that shit. Not sorry at all. I hope the Professor is guilty. Patronising, classist, intellectual elitist piece of shit. I'm all-in for Team 'The Professor Did It' and even if he didn't do this crime, he's definitely done some other crime somewhere.

“Possibly an accident; possibly—I only breathe it among ourselves—a suicide. Young men have their hidden troubles—some affair of the heart, perhaps, which we have never known. It is a more probable supposition than murder.”

Yeah, because stabbing yourself in the back of the neck is such an efficient way to do it? No wonder your research is so terrible when this is the amount of thought you put into things. Wow.

An accident? How very Final Destination of you.

“But the eye-glasses?”

Fine. Those I can't explain. Maybe they were what was hidden in the drawer and Willoughby found them? But why would the professor then leave them in plain sight? Maybe if Willoughby was the only person who knew what they meant?

So, secondary theory. The Professor's work is still rubbish and based on lies, but it's not Willoughby who found out, necessarily, it's some unknown woman with terrible eyesight and eyes very close together and a big nose, and she came to confront the professor then went missing. Willoughby knew about her going missing, but the professor claimed she'd never been to see him and the pince-nez are the proof the professor was lying.

And the woman is... dead in a ditch somewhere?

Needs work.

“Ah! I am only a student—a man of dreams. I cannot explain the practical things of life."

Oh shut up with your false modesty nonsense. Ugh. You're terrible.

...he continued to walk up and down for some time, lost in thought and consuming cigarette after cigarette.

Is Holmes trying to get through the Professor's entire supply so he has to order more? Wtf?

“Tell me, Professor Coram,” he said, at last, “what is in that cupboard in the bureau?” “Nothing that would help a thief. Family papers, letters from my poor wife, diplomas of Universities which have done me honour. Here is the key. You can look for yourself.”

Well obviously he's removed anything incriminating from it now. Pah

“It depends upon those cigarettes that I smoked,” said he. “It is possible that I am utterly mistaken. The cigarettes will show me.”

I have no idea how the cigarettes are involved in this, I confess. Is the professor involved in a smuggling ring?

I may have remarked before that Holmes had, when he liked, a peculiarly ingratiating way with women, and that he very readily established terms of confidence with them. In half the time which he had named he had captured the housekeeper's goodwill, and was chatting with her as if he had known her for years.

You mean he's good with people? Good at talking to people? Particularly women?

*side-eyes adaptations*

Is this the passage that they had in mind when they did that whole Enola Holmes lawsuit?

“I suppose the Professor eats hardly anything?” “Well, he is variable. I'll say that for him.” “I'll wager he took no breakfast this morning, and won't face his lunch after all the cigarettes I saw him consume.” “Well, you're out there, sir, as it happens, for he ate a remarkable big breakfast this morning."

Is he keeping a secret woman under his bed? Does she sneak in and have breakfast with him?

So weird.

"Well, it takes all sorts to make a world, and the Professor hasn't let it take his appetite away.”

Because he's a terrible human being.

Alright, at the end of this part, my current theory is that the Professor has some kind of secret meetings with a woman with very close-set eyes and terrible eyesight. Willoughby found out and the Professor lied to him about it, then Willoughby found the woman's glasses in the drawer and the Professor, or the unknown woman, killed him for it. Who she is, why she was meeting the professor, why it was so paramount that no one find out, I don't know.

Also, the Professor's research is terrible and founded on lies, because I just want him to fail at life.

And there are cigarettes... or something.

Yeah... there may be some gaps. I'm working on it.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Golden Pince-Nez #long post

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bellajackson200 · 2 years

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Pocket Boy. The Anual Feast, edition

There is a tradition among people who "owns" tiny people. Boys in particular as they can endure more. I have found by personal experience, that tiny people are gluttonous by nature, and this tendency is being abused by a certain competitive and possesive type of people. The so-called self proclaimed owners of these poor tiny boys. The boys were taken in as strays and groomed in a way where they can't leave. They were made dependent on their owners. They are better off in their abusive relationship than to fend for them selves on the streets.

This abuse i'm talking about happens once a year but for several months in a row. The tiny boys are fed huge fatty, greasy, filling amounts of food without a break for several months. From they wake up til they go to sleep "if they can even sleep due to massive belly aches and indigestion" The boys agreeingly devour huge amounts in the beginning until they start to hurt and wants to leave. Then they are tied to small recliners specially made for tiny boys with huge growing bellies. The recliners have a hole in the seat where the boys can do their business when needed. There they lie in pain and agony being fed. Sometimes with a tube if they refuse to obey.

The owners will "in their own twisted way" take care of the boys and rub their swollen bellies to help them digest and to soothe the pain to get them to eat more. The owners don't want to wreck the boys tiny systems because then they can't use them next year. This procedure is practiced night and day for several months to stretch and prepare the poor boys bellies, and all this is leading up to one big event. The Anual Tiny Boy Feast.

It is an eating competition for tinys and their owners. The prize... is the skill. The skill to make your tiny boy eat so much that he is just seconds away from bursting "literally" I've heard about it happening but i've never seen it and i hope i never will.

Each owner has a camera connected to a website 24/7. The camera is pointing at the poor boys where curios viewers, in general and other competitors can watch the progress of the growing bellies sitting heavily and painfully on the abused boys.

A panel of judges can also tune in and watch the swollen belly boys and disqualify on the spot if they see any cheating going on. When there's a week left for the actual competition day, the judges will pick out 10 of the most promising boys to enter the competition. Making their owners proud. The poor boys have been force fed for several months. Getting their poor bellies stretched and ready. The last week before the big day, will be spent on starving the boys, deflating their swollen, sore bellies. They need to enter the competion with equal measure and a flat belly so the audience can visually see their bellies growing as they eat. Their stomach lining is still stretched inside with nothing to fill it out and the boys will suffer from terrible hungerpains.

Still with a camera pointing on them, the poor boys will be untied. They will frantically scour around for food while crying in pain to the viewers amusement. The aching boys will be fed one tiny meal a day to deflate their huge bellies. The boys will undoubtedly be starving when they enter the competition and their owners are counting on that.

The 10 boys have been picked and me and my boy are tuned into the website, watching the poor things searching for food, crying, clutching their hungry, aching bellies. My boy is eating potato chips while staring at the screen with a haunted look on his face. He opens his tiny mouth to take a bite of the chip. Then stops, looks at the chip and then at me. With tears in his eyes, he reaches out his little hand holding the chip, towards the screen. My heart breaks. I pick him up and cuddle him into me. He's hugging my hand, letting out a little sob.

He turns his head and looks at the screen with a sad face. I close my tablet.

One week later. Competition day. I have to watch it. Even though it's messed up, i've been watching it for years and i've seen tiny boys return to compete so maybe i'll see some familiar faces this year.

I turn on the tv at excact 6pm. The actual event will go down an hour later but i like to see the opening act such as the owners and boys arriving at the venue. The state of the boys. Some anxious, some excited, some with no clue as to what's going to happen. They interview the owners who will talk about their methods while squeezing and pushing the boys belly. Show & tell, kinda. The boys are completely naked as noting can be restraining on their soon-to-be swollen aching bellies.

There's a market with different food and candy and games for the kids. One popular game is a pop-the-balloon game. you shoot darts at balloons shaped like tiny boys with swollen bellies. Every balloon contains a small gadget that falls out when popped. Kids love it. Morbid.

45 minutes in and the owners are getting their boys ready. They strap them in chairs lined up with a long table in front. They tie their hands behind their backs so the aching, starving boys can't start until the judge says GO. 10 bowls of greasy pasta with heavy sauce are placed in front of the desperate boys. The boys shift and rocks and moans in the chairs trying to reach the food with their little mouths and tongues. The smell makes them drool and smack their tiny lips.

The owners are only allowed to help their boy once during the competition. The competition is over when a boy finishes the whole bowl and don't get sick. If a boy can't finish a bowl, he doesn't win. Simple as that.

My boy was sitting on my lap watching the freakshow. Not quite sure how to react.

The owners all stood behind the boys each with a pair of scissors, ready to cut the rope tying the boys hands together as soon as the judge said GO.

Everybody was quiet. anticipating. The only sound heard was 10 growling, starving bellies.

GO. Scissors cut through the tension and the boys arms flung out to grab the saucy pasta. The poor starving boys were stuffing them selves uncontrolably. They were so hungry, so starved. Their eyes were big and round as they shamelessly munched through the greasy, heavy pasta. Their bellies were starting to swell slightly but they kept stuffing their tiny faces.

Sauce and pasta were flung about as the gluttonous boys shoved handful after handful of messy pasta down their throats. Their bodies were covered with red, chunky sauce. One boy belched loudly but kept stuffing. One more belched and the rest followed. Shoving, belching, farting boys. Bellies growing exponentially larger. Swollen, extended, growling tummies.

One particular boys tummy was growling really loud and with a hurtful belch the boy vomited a good amount of pasta all over himself and back into the bowl. This action made 3 other boys sick and they also vomited all over them selves. Then there was 6 swollen belly boys left. The owners of the 4 crying, still vomiting, boys, Picked them up and left the competition.

As i sat there watching the show, i heard a raspy belch and looked down on my lap. My tiny boy had also gotten sick all over him self. The vomiting boys had affecting him and he had puked up some potato chips. I lifted up the crying cutie, wiped him off and cuddled him into my chest.

The remaining 6 boys was starting to slow down and was looking pretty done and painfully full. One was close to having an empty bowl and his owner went to him and massaged his huge swollen aching belly. The boy whined in pain as his owner tried to forcefully handfeed him. The boys sick belly let out a hurtful, deep growl and a waterfall of liquid diarrhea splattered from his hole onto the ground below him. The sudden forceful push also made the boy sick and he vomited on him self and the disgusted owner. The horrible odor and sight made 2 other boys wretch and vomit. Their owners picked the boys up and left.

The 3 remaining boys was so full and so achy. They were crying and writhing in their chairs. Belies so swollen they couldn't walk or even try to move. They were begging their owners to help them, Give them soothing belly rubs. One lost it and vomited. His owner picked him up and started massaging his swollen aching belly. Praising the tiny boy for making it this far. They left.

The 2 remaining boys sat with 5 chairs between them. They felt so sick and their bellies hurt them so much. Both their owners were providing comfort by rubbing and massaging their extended swollen bellies. One owner started to slowly force the rest of the greasy pasta into his sick boys tiny mouth. The boy got pale and stuck his little tongue out. He vomited but the owned stuck his finger in his mouth to stop the vomit from spilling out. This disqualified them. The owner got frustrated and stuck his thick finger down the poor boys throat while pushing on his swollen belly, making him vomit painfully. Then they took off.

1 swollen, aching, sick belly boy left. His owner was gently massaging his poor bloated belly. The boy was in so much pain and his belly was so enlarged and stuffed to the max. His skin was stretched so thin it had a shine to it. The tiny poor boy was crying. every movement, every breath and sob hurt. The owner reached into the bowl and picked up the last bits of pasta. He held it next to the poor boys mouth. The boy looked at the food, then the owner and with a pathetic look, he shook his tiny head. Pleading. The owner pushed on the poor boys mouth with the food, forcing him to open up. The poor boy slowly chewed his way through the last greasy, saucy mouthful of cold, sticky pasta. He swallowed hard and moaned in pain.

The boy had to keep the food in for 5 minutes to win the competition. The clock started. The audience watched intensely as the poor aching boy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 3 minutes left. The owner held his breath and stared at the boy who was now feeling the full effect of the event. His poor belly was so swollen and so achy like he had never felt it before. He wanted to cry so hard but it hurt too much. He could just sit there, not move and take shallow breaths.

My tiny boy had been watching the show from the safety of my hair. Peeking out once in a while. Hiding his face when scared. This must be like a horror show to him.

WINNER. The judge snapped everybody out of the hypnotic state. Everybody clapped and cheered the remaining poor boy. This sudden outburst startled the sick boy and he expelled all the pasta in hurtful, continous waves of vomit. His owner took pity on the choking, wailing, sick boy and picked him up. He tried to calm his convulsing, aching, swollen belly down by rubbing it gently but the boy couldn't stop vomiting. One heave triggered the next until the boy had nothing more to expell. He then curled up in his owners hands and cried in pain. Belly flattened a bit. They left the event with a medal of honor.

My own little cutie had fallen a sleep on my chest, still hiding in my hair. Never would i ever.

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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Can I request a prompt of dad!Harry where maybe it’s just him And Sasha and they get mobbed and her slightly hurt but he is furious

JUST A LESSON

word count: 5k+ (how'd i write this in one day)

warnings: language, smut, blood, minor injuries

- If you'd like more from dad!harry verse - check out my masterlist! (pinned post)

- PLEASE NOTE: DAD!HARRY & CEO!HARRY ARE TWO DIFFERENT TROPES.

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story!

---

Harry was quite stressed out. He wasn’t sure how his wife did it all the time. She was constantly packing up Sasha and toting her around the globe to meet up with him for concerts and events when he was away.

The little family had been staying in their Los Angeles home for nearly three months now as Harry had been writing for his third solo album. It involved a lot of late nights were Y/N were putting Sasha to bed by herself.

Harry was eternally grateful that she was so patient and understanding when he snuck into bed quarter past three after finding a rift that fit a new song perfectly or when Mitch had an idea that had Harry on Skype for hours with him.

The stress was overwhelming for her though. She was usually good at self-care and taking time for herself but Sasha had been so needy lately and crabby when her father wasn’t at her beck and call.

The toddler was going through a bout where she struggled to sleep through the night and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when she didn’t get her way.

It was nearly three weeks of this and she hadn’t mentioned it too much to Harry because she didn’t want him to be as stressed out as she was.

Tonight, Y/N had rocked, sang, hummed, and read to her daughter to stop the angry tears that were rolling down her cheeks but nothing was working. It was near eleven at night and she had took Sasha out in the car for a long ride where she finally fell asleep.

But as soon as Y/N unlocked the front door, she startled awake even angrier than before, squirming out her mother’s grip and bolting through the house. When she tried to round a corner, she slipped on her bum.

Y/N felt her anxiety level break.

Sasha began screaming once again, “Mummy! No! No!”

When Y/N picked her up after her slight tumble, she was absolutely not hurt but had become even more frustrated. Y/N was starting to feel overwhelmed - which didn’t happen often.

“Baby, what do you want? What can mummy do?” Y/N asks with desperation, searching her baby’s watery green eyes. She looked so much like her dad it was absurd.

“No! Down! Stop!” The two year old orders with a furrowed brow, lips in a tight line with her nose scrunched up in displeasure.

“Sasha, you just hurt yourself. You can’t run in the house, the floor is slippery,” Y/N tells her firmly despite it falling upon deaf ears.

“Bad mummy,” Sasha shrieks, “Daddy! Want Daddy! Now!”

Y/N is embarrassed to admit that she has tears welling up in her eyes. She was trying everything in her power to soothe her baby. It’s midnight at this point and she’d been at it since seven this morning.

Sasha had refused a nap all day - giving Y/N no respite at all. Harry had left at eight in the morning and hadn’t returned yet. Even though Sasha was only two and a half, Y/N felt a pang at the words ‘bad mummy.’

She didn’t feel any other option at this point than to call Harry for help. She wanted to be capable of being at stay home mum but sometimes it was really fucking hard but she felt guilty because she should be able to do this. Harry was out there working hard, providing, constantly.

When he doesn’t answer, the tears freely start streaming down her face in silence. She scrubs at them quickly so that her daughter doesn’t see them but it’s hard to catch them all - sobs threatening to bubble through her lips.

“Daddy’s working, we need to go to sleep,” Y/N replies to her daughter, jaw clenched to hold back the upset she feels. She needs a minute alone but she doubts her toddler will let her.

“Pool?” Sasha piques, “Swim?”

Y/N wants to laugh, it’s so fucking late and Sasha should have been in bed nearly four hours ago. The mother was so beyond her routine at this point, that she actually just gave in to her daughter.

Sasha’s mood turns around when Y/N wrangles them both into their swimsuits ***and trails out of the back patio, switching on all the lights around as well as in the pool. The California air was still extremely warm, enough to cause a sweat. ***

She tugs a little donut raft into the pool with them that Sasha can float around on while Y/N guides it to keep her safe. She was so tired by this point that her bones felt like they weighed a million pounds.

Sasha’s eyes droop until they finally flutter close within minutes of being in the warm water. Her eyelids splotchy pink from all of the fits and tears from the day. And when she is completely asleep, Y/N lets herself cry as she continues to float the baby around the pool to keep her asleep.

She hasn’t been doing it for more than ten minutes when the patio door opens and Harry is stepping into the back with a confused expression that she can’t see because her back is turned to him.

“Love, why are you in the pool? S’late,” Harry asks softly but he doesn’t get an answer, so he’s slipping out of his plain tee and striped pants, dirty vans kicked to the side ***.

Just in his briefs, he quietly enters the pool to not disrupt the ebb and flow of the water. When he makes his way over to her, he slides in front of his wife, alarmed at the exhausted, tearful expression on her face.

“Baby, what’s happened? Talk t’me,” Harry whispers, hands coming to cup his wife’s face in between his large hands. Rings cold against her hot, wet cheeks. He looks to his sleeping daughter, running his eyes over her a few times and decides she seems completely okay.

“M’fine,” Y/N chokes out but the lie causes a fresh wave of tears.

Harry frowns, “Don’t lie to me, pet. Please, don’t shut me out. M’always here for you.”

“I’m a bad mum,” She sobs silently, her eyes closing as she leans into his palms before moving to rest her head heavily on the crook of his tattooed shoulder, his chest damp from the salty tears.

“Wha-What’s brought this on? Y’the best mum in the world, best wife in the world. The best at everythin’, why are you doubtin’ that, my heart?” Harry murmurs, taking over the rocking motions of Sasha’s raft.

“She wouldn’t settle today, Harry. Like at all, refusing to nap, eat any healthy food, or bathe. She screamed at me the whole day no matter what I did and then she told me I was bad and she wanted you.”

“Love, she’s in the midst of her terrible twos. She loves you more than anythin’ on this earth. Y’her mummy and a damn good one at that. Why didn’t y’call me? I’d come home, work is never more important than our family.”

Y/N doesn’t bring up the fact she did try to call, “I need to be able to do this myself, Harry. M’a stay at home mum, taking care of Sash is literally my only job and I can’t even do that.”

Harry’s face hardens but he tries to not take it personally, knowing his wife is just upset with herself, “That’s not fair to me, dove. M’her daddy, she’s half mine too. She’s just as much of my responsibility as yours, no matter what my job is.”

“I don’t want to stress you out more than necessary,” Y/N mutters into his skin.

“Me coming home to my wife in tears and my baby in the pool at midnight is more stressful than you ringin’ me to come home,” Harry tells her, smearing a few kisses to the top of her hair.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m just tired.”

Harry pulls her back so he can look her in the eyes, “Never apologize for somethin’ like that. Go get a bath and let me put the bub to sleep, okay? I love y’mumma.”

Harry calls his mum the next morning while Y/N is out getting a manicure with Glenne. He’d called her favorite salon earlier in the day, coercing them into opening a spot for her with a monetary bribe.

Y/N had hesitated at the door as Sasha threw a fit at her mother leaving the house. She clung onto her calf until Harry had to physically pull her off and hold her tightly in his arms.

Currently, Sasha was playing with a set of dolls on the floor of her bedroom as Harry sat next to her. She’d originally been happy with the presence of her father until he told her he needed to make a phone call.

Harry had to be stern with her when she went to grab at the phone pressed to his ear, gently gripping her wrist and frowning, “We don’t do that, s’not nice.”

Sasha had attempted to grab at it again and managed to tangle Harry’s long locks into his fist, tugging at them. Harry unraveled the small fingers before telling his daughter, “If you do that one more time, y’going on the step for two minutes.”

The threat had her pouting harshly but turning back to her toys to occupy herself, sighing when his mum finally answered the phone, “Hi darling.”

“Hi mum, you alright?” Harry asks, relaxing at the sound of his mother’s melodic voice.

“I’m perfect, you don’t sound okay, dear,” Anne replies with a concerned twinge.

Harry didn’t call much to complain, didn’t like worrying her and most of the time Y/N was able to provide the support he needed or Jeff.

“Y/N’s really overwhelmed,” Harry tells her before choking up a bit, “And I don’t know what to do mum, I feel like m’bein’ a bad husband. Came home to her crying last night and she feels like she’s a bad mum.”

When Sasha hears her father’s voice crack, she looks up at him curiously before recognizing that he’s upset. She crawls into his lap, fitting herself against his chest before playing with a doll there. Comforting him.

Harry wraps his free arm around her, pulling her as close as possible. His precious little baby. A little blessing as sweet as her mother.

“Oh honey, that happens. Mums, good mums especially are so critical when they don’t need to be. Baby’s are overwhelming, plus I know she’s been alone a lot with her. But you’re not a bad husband, dear.”

“It feels like it,” Harry sniffles, burying his face in his daughter’s lavender-scented curls from her bath earlier.

“If you were, you wouldn’t be calling,” Anne chuckles at her son, “Now how can we make this situation better?”

The phone call helped Harry not feel so hopeless in helping his wife. He’d come up with the plan to fly to England with Sasha so that Anne could see her but Y/N could have some alone time for a long weekend.

When Y/N enters the front door after her appointment, she’s met by a very excited little human who rushes to her mother and demands to be picked up. Of course, Y/N obliges, looking a bit more refreshed and awake as she tucks the baby against her hip.

Harry had ordered their favorite salads from a shop in the city and had it ready for her, “Oh, looks delicious. Thank you, H,” She smiles at him, leaning to give his stubbly cheek a kiss.

As they dig in, Y/N feeding bits of chicken and veggies to her daughter as they eat, Harry clears his throat, “I’m taking Sash to Holmes Chapel for the long weekend to see my mum.”

Y/N smiles, “That sounds great!”

Harry gives her a perplexed look, he’d thought she’d put up a fight. She despised being away from Sasha - couldn’t go a day without seeing her daughter.

“Really?” Her husband asks, putting down his fork.

“Mhm, I just have to pack a bag for Sash and I. When are we leaving?” Y/N replies eagerly, ready to go back home and get away from California for a bit.

Harry’s stomach clenches, “Erm, I meant just me and the baba? I thought you could stay here and relax for a weekend. Sleep, hang out, shop.”

Y/N’s face falls and is replaced with a devastated look, “You don’t think I’m being a good mum.”

Harry backpedals, realizing he shouldn’t have approached it in the lax way he did.

“No, no, of course not, baby. I think you’re such a good mum that you need a break. You never get breaks, m’the one who always does. S’not fair to you. I just need you to have some time to take care of yourself,” Harry explains, his heart shattering a bit at the tears brimming again.

“I don’t want a break, don’t leave me here,” Y/N begs, tucking a piece of tomato in her daughter’s expectant mouth before Sasha chews and smiles at her mother.

“Mummy, more please?” Sasha chirps, her mood a little bit brighter than it had been the last few days.

“Thank you for using your manners, here baby,” Her mother responds, popping another into her mouth after she sliced it in half.

“Did you book a commercial flight?” She asks her husband with an angry tone.

“No, private but we have to catch it at LAX,” Harry explains, the private airport they usually fly out of was filled to capacity at the moment.

“Either I’m coming or you’re going alone. You’re not taking Sasha without me,” Y/N replies firmly. She stands up and shuffles Sasha into his lap before leaving the room without another word.

Harry didn’t expect that. He should have thought it through more. If Y/N wanted to come, of course she could, but he’d never meant to offend her or act like he was taking Sasha away from her.

Harry had attempted to reason his way out of going to the studio with Jeff today. However, with the final cuts and adjustments were being made - he was quickly turned down and demanded in the studio.

When he’d trailed into the quiet house that night, relieved to find his baby in her crib instead of the pool, he went to his bedroom where the lights were still on.

The closet doors were open and Y/N was on the ground folding and sorting Sasha’s clothes before placing them in her suitcase. ***

Y/N’s suitcase already laying zipped and ready to go by the entrance of the closet. Her toiletry bag was placed neatly on top of it. Then his heart pings a bit when he sees that she’s already packed up his suitcase as well.

Harry pads over to his wife, plopping down behind her and tugging her back into him - long arms wrapping around her upper chest.

“Missed you, mumma.”

She hums, “I missed you too. Miss you always.”

“Y’the love of my life, y’know that?” Harry asks, kissing the back of her neck.

“I better be or you married the wrong person,” Y/N laughs softly, her tone still off but lighter than before.

“Married the right person, knocked up the right person.”

Y/N barks out a laugh, rolling her eyes, “How romantic.”

“Baby, y’know what I’m getting at. You’re the best mum and wife. I just wanted you to have a few days to yourself. To lower your stress level and let you do some self-care,” Harry murmurs, pushing the baby clothes out of her hands.

“But your mum can watch her for a bit while we’re there, right? I don’t want alone time, I need the exact opposite. I need company,” She tells him, twisting herself until she’s seated in his lap - straddling him.

“Mmm, can definitely have some alone time,” Harry agrees instantly, his mouth finding her throat - beginning to lay a path of wet, hot kisses down the column down to her collarbones.

“H, I have t’pack, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Y/N weakly argues but can’t help but bear down against her husband when she feels him harden in his loose pants quickly.

“S’just a quickie? Yeah, pet? Lemme fuck you,” Harry’s hands dragging the shirt she’s wearing up and over her head. Eyes lighting up boyishly when he realizes she didn’t have a bra on.

She can’t argue as he darts down to wrap his lips around her pert bud, sucking between long swipes of his tongue - just how she liked it. “Missed y’body so much,” Harry states against her heated skin.

“Just had me two days ago,” Y/N laughs but it cuts off into a moan when his hand slides into her pajama shorts and finds her clit over her thin underwear.

“Never enough,” Harry replies easily, “Remember the song I wrote f’you?”

Y/N snarkily asks, “Which one? Nearly all your songs are about me.”

And well...Harry can’t even argue how true her statement is. “The one titled ‘Never Enough’, pet? Remember?”

Before she can speak, he lowly croons out the chorus of the song he wrote for One Direction years ago, “Lips so good I forget my name. I swear I would give you everything. It’s never enough, never enough.”

Harry knows his sweet as syrup singing gets her immensely turned on and so he’s not surprised when she whimpers against his lips, “Fuck me, c’mon.”

He’s delighted at his wife’s pleas and quickly moves them, leaning forward with her until she’s on her back on the ground of their walk-in closet. He accidentally kicks over a pile of Sasha’s dresses but neither even notice.

There is no time wasted as Harry removed every single article from Y/N’s body quickly as well as his own. He’s leaning forward to suck a few more kisses to her chest as his fingers slip down to crook right up into her hot center.

“No teasing,” Y/N complains, wrapping hands around his biceps and bringing him on top of her more fully. She’s squeezing around his two fingers with need, it has him groaning when he brings them up and sucks them between his pouty lips.

Then she’s not waiting any longer, reaching down and grabbing a hold of his thick length. Harry lets out rumble from his chest at the contact before she’s guiding him into her without any further ado.

“Baby,” Harry chastises as soon as she starts goading him into thrusts with her feet against him bum, pushing him into her harder than he’d usually start, “Y’squeezin’ me s’tight, you missed me too?”

Y/N nods, whining every time he pushes against her spot and sends a zip of arousal through her body. His trimmed hair around his base brushing against her clit causing delicious friction for her.

“No, y’need to tell me,” Harry huffs, hand gripping her jaw harsher than he would if they were having slow, intimate sex. He knew she loved it by the way her eyes twinkle with stubbornness.

“No,” She replies coyly, heels of her feet pressing hard against him to the point it itches with a slight pain. Harry loved his wife so much it was looney.

“It’s fine, don’t need y’to come for me to get off, dove,” Harry replies simply, speeding up his thrusts with his hand holding her jaw for him to press bruising kisses against. His teeth are coming to pull her bottom lip in between.

Something switches in her demeanor though without warning, her voice softer and pliant, “Tell me you love me.”

It has Harry slowing down his hips until he’s rocking deeper into her, going down on his elbows so their noses are bumping. He releases the grip of her chin and instead moves to her bum to encourage her to meet him halfway.

“I love you, s’much it hurts most days,” Harry replies obediently, knowing what his wife needed at that moment. Reassurance. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, then you made us a perfect little baby.”

She’s looking up at him with loving, grateful eyes, landing a gentle peck to his upper lip and letting her head fall back onto the floor. This is what she needed right now from her husband and he was so good at providing.

“Breaks my heart when y’don’t think your a good mum or wife. ‘Cause you’re everythin’ I ever wanted. Why’d you think I write every song about you, lovie? S’cause you’re my soulmate.”

“H,” She whimpers, emotion thick in her throat as she meets his eyes, “I love you so much. You’re the best husband and dad ever.”

“Baby,” Harry murmurs into her cheek, picking up speed as she starts to clench around him in a warning of her oncoming orgasm. He slips his hand down to press a few light rubs to her clit before she’s arching her back and moaning with pleasure.

“You look s’good, coming ‘round my cock,” Harry tells her, helping her ride through it before hitching her hips up even further and thrusting harshly until his hips stutter and he’s coming as well.

“Harry,” Y/N sighs, her breathing coming back to normal as she roams a hand down his shoulders and back - scratching lightly.

“Hmm, dove? Y’want my cock again? Need a few,” He replies into her neck, ever the teenage boy.

She giggles, “No, we have to catch a flight at eight in the morning and it’s currently four-thirty.”

Harry grunts before pulling out and sitting up, “Y’better have packed my favorite pajama pants or I’m goin’ to be cross with you.”

Y/N now regrets the second round of fun as soon as their alarm goes off. Her body sore from the position he’d twisted her into against the shower wall after they packed the rest of Sasha necessities.

They were nearly at the airport with Sasha nodding back off in the carseat. She was excited to see her Nana and Aunt Gemma once again.

Their daughter was in the cutest, comfiest jumpsuit with comic hearts all over it *** and adorable little sock sneakers*** that slide right on and off her feet.

Harry had chucked on black sunglasses, a black jumper with green lettering, black joggers, and blue checkered van with white socks. He was attempting to fly under the radar as much as possible because he knew paparazzi just sit outside the entrances to spot celebrities. ***

It was annoying but he could deal with it when he was mobbed at the airport when he was by himself. But when it was with his wife and baby - he couldn’t stomach it. It’s part of the reason they fly private from a private port.

When they pull up to the curb, a staff member is waiting for them and helps Harry as well as the driver put his luggage on a cart to be brought to the awaiting jet.

Y/N unbuckles the baby who is awake now but bleary-eyed as she’s sitting on the curve of her mother’s hip.

And well - that’s when the madness begins. A pap spots them within seconds of exiting the car and is pulling up his camera for the first shots, the other photographers sitting around follow suit.

As soon as one of them screams, “Harry Styles - look this way!” The jam packed area looks towards them, seeming fans of his start murmuring before following behind the paparazzi pulling their phones out.

Y/N is used to the crowds by now - but just like Harry, not with Sasha around. They tried to avoid situations like this as much as possible. The lights and loud noises were scary to the little girl.

“Mummy,” Sasha whines, picking her head up from her mother’s shoulder to stare wide-eyed at the gathering in front of them.

Harry started to feel anxiety because this was becoming a massive crowd - scratch that, it wasn’t a crowd it was a fucking mob of people. They were all too close, blinding the family with their flashes despite security attempting to push them back.

Fans were shoving and thrusting their phones in Harry’s face, shoving random things for him to sign in front of him. Paparazzi were screaming questions and taking thousands of pictures in a minute’s time.

Harry grabs onto Y/N’s hand tightly, their diaper bag on Harry’s shoulder, and begins to attempt to guide them through the swarm. It was like trying to move through cement, the crowd not budging despite security’s screams.

Sasha is full blown crying at this point into her mother’s neck. Y/N’s hand cupping the back of her head to keep her head down and out of the photographs - holding her as tightly as possible.

Y/N can hear Harry began to curse - signaling that he’s becoming stressed out because he would usually never be rude to the public despite their actions. But he couldn’t give a fuck when it came to his family.

“Move out of the way.”

“D’you not see I have a fuckin’ baby?”

“Get those fuckin’ cameras out of their faces.”

“Back the fuck away from my wife and baby.”

Then Y/N is being shoved by a teenage girl who trips when she thrusts her arm towards Harry. She tumbles into Y/N with her full weight and Y/N’s loses her footing, falling forward - letting go of Harry’s hand.

When she falls, she manages to catch herself with the arm that’s not holding her daughter. But she feels pain in her knees and Sasha emits a sharp wail that alerts Y/N her daughter is hurt.

“Sash, fuck,” Y/N gasps, her motherly instincts automatically kicking in and she’s cradling her daughter as tightly to her chest as she can, shielding her from the swarm who had quieted only a bit.

It must take Harry a second to realize that something had happened, he turns around - eyes frantic as he absolutely roars, “Back the fuck up! I’ll fuckin’ break each and everyone of your cameras! Fucking leeches.”

With that, he’s helping to pull you up and grasping at the two, “Are you okay? Wha’s hurt?”

Y/N just shakes her head, having a panic attack as she shuffles the crying baby into his arms. “Please, just...Sasha. I think she hurt her arm when I fell.”

“Daddy, ouch,” Sasha shrieks loudly into his sweatshirt as he hikes her up onto his chest, her little legs wrapped around his midsection.

“Ssh, y’okay,” Harry tries to reassure her, matching his wife’s panic.

The crowd seems to give way now, the parents rushing their daughter into the airport.

Employees guide them to the medical office on-site where it’s now silent and calm but the family feels anything but.

Sasha’s sobs have turned into moans and whimpers at this point - but come back with a vengeance when Harry has to set her on the exam table and wrestle her out of her clothes until she’s just sat in her diaper.

The nurse was so amazing and kind. She checked Sasha thoroughly for any signs of trauma or broken bones but luckily, it was just a nasty scrape on her forearm that was hurting her. It wasn’t anything serious.

The parents had such concern for their daughter that Y/N didn’t even realize she had bled through her white joggers at the knees ***. The nurse frowns, “Honey, you’re still bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” She insisted even though her knees were aching.

“I’d like to examine your legs, dear,” The nurse tells her sternly, signaling that Harry can dress Sasha again.

He’s digging into the diaper bag for a spare out that they were always ready with. She was calming even more when Harry dressed her in a comfy pink set of clothes with little deer on them. ***

“Love, please let her,” Harry asks softly, pulling Sasha back onto his chest. Her thumb tucked into her mouth and her father hands her a plushie that Y/N had shoved in the bag last minute.

Y/N obliges with the pressure, wiggling the loose fabric down her legs until she’s just in her underwear and shirt - sits up on the table with her knees off to the side for her to examine.

Harry grimaces when he sees the multiple cuts and scrapes tainting her skin. A few slow trickles of blood still oozing from the gashes. The skin is already slowly covering purple and blue with bruises.

The nurse cleans her up, Y/N wincing when the alcohol brushes the cuts but Sasha is smiling again like nothing ever happened and cooing at her mum. It makes them both feel a lot better.

When they’re finally on the private jet, up high into the clouds away from the crowds and paparazzi - it feels like relief. ***

They had tucked their daughter onto the couch with her favorite fuzzy blanket and she’s asleep nearly as soon as her head hits the pillow.

They trail back into the other part of the cabin so that they don’t disturb her, cuddling up on the couch together.

“M’so sorry, I’m such a bad fa-”

Y/N cuts him off before he begins, “If I’m not allowed to be a bad mum - you’re not allowed to be a bad father. It wasn’t y’fault that happened - it’s those careless, crazed people who have nothing better to do.”

Y/N was always the voice of reason in Harry’s head when he started to spiral.

Spiral because his fame was so overwhelming and got his family into difficult situations sometimes. She brought him back to reality.

“Hey, we’re both okay. Just a few scrapes. It was just a lesson, Harry. We just need to be safer and plan better, alright?” Y/N assures him softly, kissing under his chin before resting back - ready to sleep.

“Y’the best. Best mum, best wife,” Harry tells her, encompassing her in his loving hold.

let me know your thoughts bub

come talk to me <3

1K notes · View notes

slytherbun · 3 years

Text

confession

pairing: jay halstead x reader

summary: you find yourself in some trouble while clearing a location with your partner jay.

word count: 2.8k

tags: @specialagentsoftie @fighterkimburgess @everythingaddictxx

note: different kind of pd fic then i'm used to but hope y'all like it! ☺

"we're eight minutes out. don't go in yet." voight said into the mic but you and jay had already entered a second too late.

jay's been your partner for almost a year now. the one he had before you was a blonde named hailey that took a position from the fbi.

when you first met him it was about a month after the previous detective left and you could tell he was obviously still in denial. you gave him space and only input your opinion about cases you worked on with intelligence.

it took about three weeks until he actually said anything besides the occasional comment. and he knew deep down that you weren't trying to replace her. but since you were together a lot during the week—jay couldn't help but make his own conclusion about you.

he started to open up more when he looked past the stubbornness after concluding that you were a decent person. for a moment there, you could have sworn he was having an out of body experience with how nice he started treating you.

jay started to invite you out to drinks on a periodic basis. he wanted to explore the possibilities of having you as his permanent partner. one night after a couple of drinks, jay was in a good mood and showed you a picture of his old partner.

the two of them were standing in front of their new work truck with bright smiles on their faces. he talked about her a lot after that night as a way of meeting you half-way. and by the end of that month—it was as if you physically knew her and who she was as a person.

the both of you hit it off pretty well and became friends. even as far as, having drinks every tuesday and thursday after work at molly's—the firefighter owned bar.

jay mumbled a curse at the order voight gave but it was already too late. "get behind me." he spoke in a hushed whisper. not wanting to argue in that particular moment you did as told.

detective halstead had his gun raised and in a firm grip around his fingers before stepping further into the house. you followed his position and warily stepped more into the creaky house.

luckily the both of you had vests already on and around your chests. the material easily gave you a visual view of his arm muscles around the freckles splayed across his biceps.

right away you spotted the cans of spray paint sitting on the concrete living room floors. crude words were traced along the four walls and you couldn't help but scrunch your nose at the horrid smell.

it only had you raising your pistol higher.

while you glanced around to survey the room closely, you couldn't help but notice the gang symbols that you were familiar with. due to the cpd database you knew at least three different affiliations drawn over the wood boarded windows.

the overused drug house looked like something out of a horror movie.

"clear." he grunted between paced cautious breaths and you continued to walk behind his careful steps around the garbage to venture into the main hallway of the house.

jay stopped at the entryway and you turned back around to double check the area once again while he scanned the front view where you and he needed to go.

both sides of the hallway were clear but he made sure his gun was raised and followed every inch of the hallway space that he inspected.

you felt a tap on your waist and turned back around to see jay was still facing forward. he probably hadn't noticed the spot he touched of your body but it still sent shivers down your spine with the intimacy of it.

but you pushed away the anxiousness to check and see what was bothering jay. the only thought you should be having right now is how to get out of the dangerous position.

the hallway was full of open and vulnerable space. a clear point of range that could be taken advantage of to take either you or jay out at any time.

jay was concerned for you. he couldn't help the anxious feeling that he had in the pit of his stomach. the unknowingness ahead in the crack house irked him greatly that he couldn’t predict what was about to happen.

the walls of the hallway smelled highly metallic and if that hadn't given it away, the walls were filled with fresh blood splatter. you gulped at the sight of the bright red handprints going down the length of the hall and glanced at jay from the corner of your eye with an eyebrow raised.

he sighed and nodded his head while pointing his gun to the left to signal the continuance of moving on. you bit the bottom of your lip and tipped your head to let him know you were ready to go.

turning your body in a three hundred sixty angle, you watched his back and felt the hairs on the back of your neck lift up in a static gesture. you could also feel goosebumps all over your arms and you just wanted to hurry up and get out of there.

it was truly the most awful scene you've ever been to. with everything you had—you kept yourself together and calm. your lips were in a straight line the whole time.

you should have known with the uneasy feeling that things were going wrong within a split second. and you were right because after jay turned just slightly he felt a gun being pressed against his forehead.

“put your guns down or else i’m going to blow his head off.” an angered voice said into the echoey hall.

not believing what was happening, you turned your body to survey the area and another man came into your view and held his gun higher. “‘tsk tsk’ miss. hand me that gun or else we’re going to have problems.” jay sighed from behind you and you rolled your eyes.

“i’m not putting down shit until you tell me your demands.” you said maybe a little too cockily but it was protocol.

voight had told the team plenty of times to stall and not give up your gun at first. in hopes that the other’s would show up and it would become a better outcome if you just continued talking to the person who was a threat.

a third one appeared and now you were officially outnumbered but you were still hoping they were dumber than they looked. the one that was pressing a firearm to your partner’s temple spit out, “listen lady. you either put your weapon down or else his brain matter will be just another body that was paved across the walls of this house.”

you tried to calculate in your head quickly if you should take the risk of surrendering. voight said they were eight minutes out. and if you’ve been in the house for almost four minutes now.

that was half the time left until they were going to show but then those few precious minutes would be enough time for literally anything.

sometimes you hated being a part of the police force. how could you ever know the correct answer and outcome within a split second of your life? could anybody be capable of that? whatever choice you decided to take would be the outcome.

you knew you wouldn’t be able to live without jay as your partner and in your life. and his blood would be on your hands if you didn’t surrender now. a shaky breath fell past your lips when you clicked the safety back on and handed it to one of them.

of course they used your gun against you and headbutted you with it. little black spots were in your vision before it completely knocked you out. you just hoped the intelligence team would be able to find you and jay.

it would be your fault and you’d feel guilty until your last breath if they didn’t.

you weren’t sure how much time had passed but a hard slap against your cheek woke you up. a blood trail still continued to trickle down your forehead and you winced at the feeling of an awful beating in your eardrums. “wake up sleeping bitch.”

you tried to speak but instead you coughed at the buildup in your throat. not being able to help yourself, in a snarky tone you replied. “i thought it was sleeping beauty?” that earned you another slap that ensured fingerprints across your cheek but you weren’t feeling any regret about it.

“now shut up and answer my next question.” he inputted before you could interrupt again. you looked at him with a devious grin and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “what were you looking for in that house?”

when you leaned forward, you realized the reason why you couldn’t move was because your arms were tied behind your back. but nonetheless you leaned forward encroaching in his space enough to feel his breath span out against your red cheek.

“as if i’d tell you.” your defiance had him pushing your head back forcefully so you hit the concrete behind you, feeling as if a baseball bat hit your skull.

he smirked at your uncomfort. “perhaps a little visit with your boyfriend will help you come to understand that i don’t mess around. if you don’t give me an answer—my boys won’t hesitate to put a bullet straight through his head.” your only reply was a silent one.

spitting blood onto his shoes and he cursed before grinning again. “yeah that’s what i thought.” turning his head towards the door, he yelled. “bring the pretty boy in!”

your shoulders immediately dropped when they entered the room. the other two men from earlier were dragging jay into the room and disposed of his body roughly on the ground in front of you. if it weren’t for his chest rising up and down faintly then you would have thought he was dead.

both of his eyes were already swollen and you knew he would have two black eyes for weeks, dried blood dripped down his face and you didn’t even want to look at the rest of his body. despite the fact he was wearing clothes, you knew he had many internal problems that would need only the care a hospital could provide.

“j-jay?” you stuttered at the sight of him.

he kept blacking out and struggled to stay awake. jay had been counting his breaths to make sure he had enough air circulating through his body. cracked ribs were no joke and he could only groan to let his favorite person know that he was still holding on.

“you think beating people is the only answer? violence?” you glanced around the room and glared at the three with a venomous look. they shared similar smiles hearing how hoarse your voice was.

“i hope my team finds you all and you rot!” the two that brought jay in walked away and the one that talked to you a few moments ago stood and looked down at you. saying one more thing before walking out the door and shutting it. “and i hope next time i come in here—you’ll feel more generous and tell me what you were up to. if you don’t then our pretty boy here will die as promised.”

as soon as he left the room, you started rubbing your arms up and down the wall in hopes that the binds around your wrists would break off. “y/n.” jay mumbled. you didn’t even notice he had turned his face and you shushed him. “don’t open your eyes jay. it’ll be okay, i promise.”

he tried again. “y-y/n. i need to t-tell you something.” jay’s lip was busted and bruised. he hissed at the pain. “you don’t need to tell me anything. we’re getting out of here, detective halstead.” you stated with confidence and continued to run your hands up and down despite the sting of your wrists.

jay had a feeling earlier this morning that something bad would happen. his gut had told him something and he wished he hadn’t ignored it. but he can’t always follow everything, especially when they didn’t even have their case yet. but of course after finding out the hard way, this case was bad.

he knew it and it still put you in harm's way but jay had to tell you how he felt just in case it did go the way he was hoping it wouldn’t. “i don’t care if i need to keep my strength right now. listen to me please.” he pleaded and you finally stopped, turning to glance at his face.

jay was squinting and the visual of his state had your stomach churning.

“y/n i haven’t been completely honest with you and i need to tell you this. i’ve wanted to for a while now, but i just couldn’t find the right moment to.” it was getting to the point where you were desperately trying to keep together. and now that he wanted to confess a deep secret that he’s held close to his chest, the whole thing just had you hysterical.

jay frowned when you started laughing. he tried to scoot closer but the pain he felt was significant. it was just one of those situations where it wasn’t an appropriate response but you couldn’t help yourself either.

he noticed the tears falling down your cheeks while watching you quiet down. a reaction like this didn’t surprise your partner so he didn’t blame your outburst in the least. “i’m s-sorry. i’m sorry.” you muttered and tilted your head to both sides.

you looked back over to jay after successfully wiping more than half of the tears on your sleeve. and for a moment he just gazed into your eyes with his blue ones. a look that you couldn’t decipher nor describe appeared across his face but he seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking.

jay cleared his throat and continued with what he was about to say earlier. “it’s okay y/n. but i need you to know that i don’t blame you in the slightest for what went down in that house. i would have done the same exact thing because i love you.”

it was like time stopped and you couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. after all of that time you spent with jay. him wanting nothing to do with you, then becoming your acquaintance, somewhat of a real friend and he loved you?

“you really love me?” you questioned. not being able to believe what was coming out of his mouth. you wondered if the three men drugged him and he was high or delusional. a grunt came out his mouth at the current aching pain he felt all over his body.

“yes y/n, i love you so much. if i could, i’d be over there right now and giving you a hug. then i’d lean down and give you a kiss that i’ve been wanting to give you for months now.”

that honesty from him had you laughing, “months? me too. i’ve wanted to kiss you for almost the whole year that i’ve known you.” you replied with the same amount of honesty he had given you.

“yeah, y/n. it’s probably going to be a year soon but i meant what i said. i really do love you and i’m sorry we’re in the situation that we’re in now. i wish i could protect you from this.” before you could reply the two of you heard gunshots outside of the room. “shit! i hope that’s them.” you mumbled and jay nodded as best as he could.

the door banged open and hit the wall. you almost peed your pants with how happy you were to see kevin and adam surveying the room. “clear!” kevin announced and then walked over to you and jay. adam spoke into the radio, “5021 ida. we have officers down and need two ambos rolled to our location.”

after kevin ripped the binds from your wrists, you crawled over to jay even though your arms were killing you. another tear fell down your cheek when you got up and close to him. he looked awful but now that the two of you were safe, he could begin to heal soon enough. “jay.” he made a ‘hmm’ sound due to the exhaustion he was feeling.

“i love you too.” you finally said and he smiled. you leaned down to brush your lips against his carefully. “after all of this is done. i’m going to give you a proper one.”

you winked and he grinned and responded while the medics rolled in. “we have plenty of time in the world now.”

527 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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wwilloww · 4 years

Text

point of no return | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Smut. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Roommates AU.

WC: 10.2k

Summary: Both Jimin and you are determined to never act on the feelings you hold for one another. Instead, you’d rather shove it down, somewhere deep, dark, and inaccessible. So what do you get when you mix a broken furnace, an old victorian home, a little bit of jealousy in the club, and a need to keep warm together? A mess.

Warnings & Tags: Cursing. Reader is really freakin cold. Jimin sleeps in the nude. Spooning. Grinding. Obscene daydreaming about your best friend. Sex dreams. Mentions of alcohol. Dancing. Jimin is a little jealous. Masterbation. Unexpected visual. Super soft makeout. Fingering. Orgasm denial. Sex. Slight power play. Creampie.

AN: Oof! Finally! A Jimin fic! Thank you to @thatlongspringnight for guiding me through the last 6k of this fic, all written in one day and for being the most brilliant, queen of queens level beta reader. A big thanks to @triviasapphic too, for letting me use their likeness!

This is very loosely based on this ask beautifully submitted by the loveliest @jinpanman for the milestone request party!

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

point of no return

“Fuckin’ shithead mutherfuckin cunt basket,” you hiss.

Nothing would turn it on.

You tried pressing the knob. You tried twisting it until your hand rubbed raw. You tried shaking it. You tried begging in your sweetest, most saccharine tone. You even tried giving it compliments.

“Have I ever told you how sexy you look with three coats of white paint? No?”

Fifteen minutes ago the antique radiator — so old it would probably be better in a museum of old technologies than as a functioning heat mechanism — stuttered to a halt and refused to turn back on.

When you had picked the house out with your best friend, Jimin, you’d loved it for it’s Victorian era charm. But now with the December cold creeping in through the thin window and your refusal to own more than one blanket you were shivering madly, teeth clattering cold. And wildly in doubt of your house hunting skills.

With a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders, you drag your comforter off of the mattress, wrap it tightly over your shivering shoulders, and pad barefoot down the hall. Instead of knocking, you just twist the door handle, letting the door swing open before you with a long, drawn-out squeak. You wince at the sound.

A dark figure sits up from the bed, squinting at you in the darkness.

“Is that—”

“It’s me,” you whisper. If it were anyone else, that response would be useless. But after years of friendship Jimin knows every tune and nook in your voice — the way it sounds when you’re upset, or scared, or — in this case — really fucking cold. “The heater broke.”

“What?” His voice is groggy and sleep-heavy.

“The heater broke. Can I stay here tonight?”

He scrunches his nose and wipes a hand across his face.

“Yeah, sure, uh—” He shifts a bit in bed and that’s when you realize he’s not wearing anything at all. You gulp. It’s the coldest month of the year and the fucker is naked in bed, nothing more than a top sheet thrown over his body, the rest of the duvet crumpled at the foot of the bed. Even though you know he’s one to sleep in the nude (“It invigorates your skin and keeps your body temperature regulated,” he had explained to you once) seeing it, in front of you, just the thinnest piece of fabric between you and your best friend’s junk is a whole other story.

As he moves, the sheet slips down, revealing his toned stomach, only visible by the moonlight flooding through the bay windows of his bedroom.

“Give me a minute to put something on?”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, turning around quickly to give him some semblance of privacy, your blanket whooshing out behind you.

You can hear him pad over to his dresser, just three feet behind you. You swallow hard as you imagine him, totally naked, so close to you. Literally within arms reach. If you could only—

“Turn around, I’m done.”

You peek over your shoulder before turning fully, only to see Jimin, now clothed in some pretty short black boxers, climbing back into bed. Blanket trailing, you shuffle after him, climbing into the warm bed from the other side.

You pull your comforter as tightly around you as you can, but you’re still cold. As you turn to face away from your friend, you can’t help but shiver, your shoulders shaking with the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.

“Can you stop shaking?” Jimin’s sleep-adled voice grunts from behind you.

“I’m too cold,” you whine.

“Come ‘ere—”

And before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging your body backwards until it meets his. He pulls the blanket up and slides in behind you, wrapping himself around your shivering form.

“Better?” he asks while you’re still in shock from the amount of contact he’s just put the two of you in.

“Mhmm,” you squeak out, even as your body continues to shake.

“You’re a liar,” he chuckles.

“I don’t know why you bothered to ask then,” you snap back, wrapping your arms tight around yourself.

You’re not sure if he sees this or if he’s acting on his own accord. You let out a small gasp as he tugs you even closer, his arm slipping under the blanket to press against the skin of your hip. He maneuvers you backwards, your body as limp as a puppet, while you lay there in shock (and a small bit of exhilaration). He presses the back of your body flush against his front and snakes his top arm up the front of your torso until it rests in the center of your chest, gripping your opposite shoulder.

Trapped.

You’re trapped in his arms, nowhere to move, nowhere to go. Only the sound of your combined breaths, his a little more slow and sleepy than your nervous pant. Trapped only with the idea of him so close, and the strange thing fluttering in your chest that only continues to grow bigger and bigger despite all the work you’ve done to push it away. All you can think about is the way he’s pressed up against you, only your thin flannel pajama pants and his even thinner black boxers keeping the most sensitive parts of your bodies apart.

When he shifts, nustling his nose into the crook of your shoulder, you swear you can feel something long and hard press up against your ass.

And suddenly the warmth that is flooding through you has absolutely nothing to do with the shared body heat. Instead it’s coming from someplace deep down — somewhere yearning and desperate — and also from that strange fluttering thing in your chest.

All there is is white. You know somewhere far above you is an endless sea of stars, blinking down on you. But all you know is the grass beneath you and the swimming white sheets that float above and around you.

Someone’s laughing and you turn your face to see him — Jimin — beaming and reaching out towards you.

Somewhere in your mind you know it’s night time and that everything should be dark — and yet, everything around him is lit up and glows with a sourceless light.

Joy rushes through you and as you reach out towards him, he disappears and a new kind of light — warmth — appears behind you.

“I want—” you start to say, but his hand comes up to your mouth, silencing you.

“If you speak, you’ll break the dream,” he says. “Just enjoy it. Let me be here with you.”

Eyes don’t close in dreams, but you know you drift somewhere soft, the feeling of his body so close to yours and the precious rhythm of his breath tracing your neck.

All there is warmth.

Too much of it, actually.

As your eyes blink open to the dark room, the remnants of some dream, lots of white, Jimin’s smile fall away from your consciousness. You kick your leg out into the freezing air and sigh as the coolness washes the heat from your body. Relief.

The warmth that hasn’t been erased, however, is sitting heavy in your lower belly, pooling and swirling and wanting.

You do your best to ignore it, knowing it’s probably some mix of the dream and the thing that you’ve kept hidden on the edge of your consciousness for too long.

You close your eyes again, wishing for sleep to come back and pull you away from these thoughts. Just as you feel the soft edges of another dream lapping at the edges of your mind, Jimin groans behind you and comes to press up against you again, his hand snaking down over your belly.

Eyes shoot open. There. Behind you. Right between the swell of your ass. You can feel his cock pressing into you, at full hardness. You gasp at the sensation, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth so as not to wake him. Slowly, you try to scootch away from his grip, but he holds you there, his arm only tightening when you try to move away.

It’s not that you don’t want it — you do — your body is singing with electricity at the thought of his hard cock against you, between you, inside you. God, if only. However, it’s the consequences, the unspoken question, the unanswered desires (the answer to which you may just not want to know) that push you away from him.

This is your best friend. The person you’ve always been able to rely on and trust. The man you know you can turn to at any moment and know there will never be a question dangling between the two of you.

Except for now.

As he slowly circles his hips against yours, the most delightful, breathy pants falling from his lips — so soft you can barely hear them — the question looms larger than ever.

Are you in love with your best friend?

However, here, his arm wrapped so tightly around your belly, it’s easy to sink into the desire. To equate the arrival of the question with the arousal rising in your body. To tell yourself this is just pleasure, this is natural.

Jimin’s palm is splayed out across your lower belly, pressing hard against you.

He’s rutting shallowly against you, moving for the sake of his own pleasure. A high note of satisfaction slips from his lips, before a name tumbles shortly after it into your ear.

Not any name.

Your name.

You choke on your own words as you understand it. Confusion rushes over you but it’s quickly replaced by adrenaline as his hand clenches and unclenches around your shirt and he shifts and stretches.

Jimin is waking up. Is he going to say something? Is he going to tell you he didn’t mean it at all? Will he run from you?

His body freezes as he realizes the position he’s in. Wrapped so intimately around you, his hard cock pressed against you.

“Shit,” you hear him whisper. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You squeeze your eyes closed and lay as still as possible as you feel him pull away from you. And then the bed dips just enough and you realize he’s leaning over you, checking to see if you’re asleep or not.

You smooth out your features, hoping he doesn’t catch that you’ve been awake this whole time.

The December morning light is streaming in bold and warm through the window.

Your hand goes searching for Jimin, but all you find is an empty, chilled, pillow. There’s a good chance he’s already headed out for the day to see friends or to run errands and so you assume it’s safe as you tiptoe downstairs to get some water and some much needed coffee. Not that you slept much last night.

As you enter the kitchen, the earthy smell of fresh coffee hits you and you take a deep breath, inhaling the nutty aroma. There’s a full pot of coffee already waiting for you on the counter. You smile. Jimin has always been a considerate housemate, but to leave you coffee in the morning? I’m so lucky to have a friend like him, you sigh as you turn to the cabinet to grab a mug.

“Good morning!” an almost nervous, too-cheery voice sings out from behind you.

“AGh!” you cry, nearly dropping the mug you’re holding. Jimin’s quicker than you are though, and reaches out, just as it drops below your belly button. He’s laughing, his delightful giggle filling the light-painted kitchen but all you can think about is how close he’s standing to you, the mug brushing up against your stomach.

“Got it,” he grins.

“You know you can’t jump out at me like that!” you scold, trying to take the mug back from him. But he turns and goes to fill it up for you.

“I literally said your name twice before you noticed. Someone was too lost in dreamland.”

“Pshh, no, I — you need to be a little louder.”

“Can we talk about last night?” Jimin asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. “I, uh, I think there was an accident, I had a dream you were—”

You panic.

“Last night? Oh gosh yeah! I slept like a rock! Thank you for keeping me warm. I would have frozen to death if it weren’t for you.”

You smile as sweetly as you can at him.

He blinks back.

“I mean — uh, yeah, sure, I mean, you’re welcome but that’s not what I mean —”

“Nothing to talk about!” you chirp, already scurrying towards the stairs that lead back up to your bedroom.

“Hey! I’m trying to talk to you!” he cries as you pad upstairs, making a beeline for your bedroom as the coffee you’re holding sloshes around in the mug.

“Oof, well I’m already tired again, gonna take a nap!”

You sprint up the stairs and as you do you hear him call behind you.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

It hits harder than you want it to.

“Come on, princess. You’re taking forever!”

You’re back down on your bed, swaddled in all the blankets in the house you could find, scrolling through your phone.

“I don’t want to go!”

“Well I do!” The door finally swings open and Jimin stands there, all dolled up for the night out. He’s wearing tight leather pants that hug his toned thighs just right and a half opened black shirt that he’s still buttoning as you look on. Beneath his hands, his chest shows, the muscular planes simple and sheer perfection. A single silver earring dangles from his left ear, the other one filled with a variety of studs.

As you peek out of your blanket fort, you gulp as you take in his flawless appearance. He looks like straight sex, the darkness of his outfit highlighting every muscle and curve.

"You look nice," you manage to squeak, and Jimin blushes, his praise kink showing. "Those pants are..." Hot as fuck? More beautiful than the Mona Lisa? Just asking me to rip them off? Floundering for language, you just let your sentence trail off as he looks on, a pink tinge still dancing across his features.

"You wanna wear them?"

"Pfft, no," you lie.

“Are you planning on getting out of bed?”

“No.”

"Well then, if you're not going to get out of bed and dress yourself I'll do the honors." Jimin stomps over to the tiny door leading to your closet and swings it open. He ruffles through your set of clothes, as disparate from a full flannel collection (one that you are quite proud of) to an evening gown that never got worn. Words you can't quite hear or understand tumble from his mouth in a stream of frustrated mumbles as he seems to be looking for something very specific. "Aha!" he finally cries out. "Here it is."

What he pulls out is not what you expected.

It's a simple piece. A light tan slip dress, one with a bit of a scoop to the bust. One that hugs all of your curves just right and sits low enough the weight keeps the dress exactly where you want it to be and high enough that your upper thighs are deliciously on display - something that simultaneously excites you and scares the hell out of you. You bought it on a whim, hoping it would help you embody your inner club girl (or "inner slut" as your friend Jungkook would correct you - which, if you were being entirely honest, was really what you meant when you spoke about going to the club.)

"That one? Really?"

"What, you wanna wear this?" He turns back to the closet before pulling out a second dress, this one long and emerald green and sparkly with a full slit up the side.

"No." You pout.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Ugh!" you cry, burrowing deeper into your blanket fort. "Itsmyslutdress," you mumble.

"What?"

"Itsmyslutdress!" you mumble, but louder this time.

"Did you just call it a slut dress?"

You pop your head out of the warmth cocoon with a sigh.

"Yes."

"What does that even mean?"

"It is the dress I wear when I want to embody my slutty alter-ego. The dress I wear when I wanna get laid."

Jimin blinks a few times before turning back to you with a grin.

"Well--do you not want to get laid tonight?" he asks slowly.

You gape at him.

Even as best friends, even talking about your hookups, you never really talked about sex iteself. Everytime you brought it up, whether it was at the bar and you were ogling some tall, dark, handsome stranger as if some psychic had promised you he was your entire future, he always seemed to shut down. And yet, around your other friends, he was an open book. "Basically a sex expert," Jungkook had told you once. "A sexpert." He'd added, grinning.

But with you, sex was off the table. You were more open and vulnerable with him than you were anyone in your life - and he with you. But sex was just never on the discussion board for you two.

"Do you wanna get laid tonight?"

"Are you offering?" you shoot back teasingly.

"Of course," he says softly.

Your mouth drops.

Of course? Of course?!

"I mean! No! What? Wait? Can you repeat the question?"

"You said yes," you say slowly.

"What! No! I did not!"

Jimin is basically stomping his foot on the ground.

"You did!"

He looks almost angry and you're not sure whether to laugh at the softness with which he had agreed to fuck you - or to feel hurt by his quick change of mind.

"Did not!"

You break into giggles finally releasing yourself from your cocoon of warmth to sprawl out on the bed in a fit of laughter. Your little tirade is quickly shut down though as the silky fabric of the dress is thrown onto your face and you cough around the material.

"Get dressed. I don't want to be late," he says, his voice flat.

“It’s too cold for the slut dress,” you grumble in a last ditch effort, fabric falling into your mouth as you sleep.

“Then wear a fucking turtleneck and snow pants to the club,” Jimin says. “I don’t care, just please get dressed.”

The door slams and when you pull the dress away from your face, the room is empty again. With a sigh, you roll off the bed and begin to get ready for the night.

By the time you pulled up to the dark, sticker-plastered doors of the club, Jimin had resumed his usually joyful and peppy demeanor, all memories of his little slip up erased from the night.

You knew better than to push him about it. You knew that he shut down when you called him out on these things in the past— like the way his eyes lingered on you for too long when you showed off a new bathing suit, the cute little stutter he donned when he was flustered by you, or the way he would basically run at top speed in any direction away from you when you emerged from the shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around your body.

As you are swallowed into the sea of dancing figures and booming bass, you feel his hand come to rest on your waist. Pushing further into the crowd, his touch is reassuring. Steadying. His way of keeping a hold on you without actually holding onto you.

He sees them before you do, and quickly grabs onto your hand, tugging you forward into the mass of swaying figures. Waving and yelling their names, the two of you tumble towards your friends. Jungkook and Raven stand near the bar, their faces lighting up when they finally spot you in the mess of strangers.

Raven embraces you first, his arms pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I wanna dance!” Jungkook says before you can even step away from Raven. Drinks abandoned, Jungkook has grabbed both yours and Jimin’s hands and drags you out to the dance floor.

The bass courses through you as your friends surround you, bopping and swaying to the barely understandable lyrics.

Jimin has always been a good dancer. A great dancer, actually. His moves range from absolutely side-achingly hilarious to -- dare you say it -- undeniably sensual.

He twirls you onto the dance floor, the two of you falling into your usual routine of swinging and laughing and kicking all around.

And as the upbeat and perhaps misplaced summer hit switches to a more sensual song he matches it naturally, letting his hips sway and glide to the rhythm. He pulls you along with him, twirling you more slowly. When you twist into his grasp, he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms, pressing you against him.

As his arms come to wrap around your shoulders, you can’t help but press back into him.

Raven winks at you and you grin back at him, shooing him and his teasing away.

It’s easy to fall into this. Easy to fall into the sway of Jimin’s body and the safety that comes with being pressed so close against him. You fit perfectly into his body, every one of your curve the antithesis to his. Like two puzzle pieces.

You let your hand drop down to his thigh, gripping it for stability as you sway your hips against his. The muscle tenses beneath your touch and you take that as an opportunity to roll your ass against his crotch.

He meets your movements, grinding back up into you, his hand dropping to your waist where he grips you tightly and guides your movements even further back into him.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispers in your ear.

His body pressed against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. The nights the two of you have spent in your kitchen, sliding around in socks and grooving to your favorite music, springing each other around your shared house — all of those hours, all of those years make it so when he moves against you he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what you want him to do. You move in tandem, as if you are sharing a brain, a story, a body.

You tilt your head up to him, nuzzling into his neck.

“Why not?”

“I-I can’t mess up.” He says, but he continues to sway at your back.

“You’re not messing up. I like this.”

As you reach behind you, letting your hand trail up beneath his shirt, you can feel him press into your touch. Chasing it, searching it out. But as your hand trails back down, fingernails scraping delicately against the skin, he seems to snap out of it and steps back from you, even as he keeps his hands on your hips.

You turn, trying to pull him back to you, but you see his brow is furrowed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Just fine!” he says, just a little to cheerfully. “I-I just think I’m done with dancing for tonight.”

Even as he says it he pulls you closer to his chest.

“I’m going to get some drinks, do you want something?”

“You don’t want to dance with me?”

“I— uh— it’s not that.” He shakes his head.

“Please, come on, it’ll be fun,” you groan, tugging on his arm. But he stands firm and stiff. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“I don’t want to dance tonight. Just go on ahead.”

You look your friend up and down. Jimin was never one to turn down an opportunity to dance.

“Okay,” you say, painting a smile on your features even as your heart aches slightly at his rejection. “I just want you to have fun. Do you want me to come with?”

“No--it’s okay. I’ll be back, alright?”

“Alright?”

You watch as he disappears back into the mass of people. You stand still, wondering What the hell just happened?

However, your thoughts are quickly interrupted as Raven reaches out to you, pulling you to him in a graceful spin.

“Distract yourself, darling,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll come around, don’t you worry.”

Before you have a chance to process his words, Raven spins you out again in the crowd.

You stumble just a little bit, until hands come to rest on the dip of your hips, lingering there just enough to stabilize you. However, they quickly release you as soon as you are standing tall again.

“Oh, ah, thank you,” you half-yell as you turn around, attempting to raise your voice above the noise.

The man who stands behind you is undeniably gorgeous. Tall, with a dark lock of hair hanging into your forehead and the most beautiful smile.

“No worries, it happens all the time,” he grins at you. “What’s your name.”

You yell back at him, but when he can’t hear you, you step closer to him, pressing against his chest to speak your name into his ear. His hand comes down on your waist as you do, lightly.

“My name’s Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though. Care to dance?”

You grin up at him and nod. You’ve never been one to turn down a dance partner.

He takes your hand, quick to find the rhythm of the music.

Hoseok is a natural. As each song progresses, his dances become more intricate. He’s happy to lead you through them and you can’t help but laugh as he spins you around the floor while others are swaying and grinding. You’ve never had this much fun with a stranger, but as he moves against you, you can’t help but think of the way Jimin felt pressed so close to you earlier in the night. It’s just not quite the same.

It’s easy to get lost in him, in his beaming smile and witty jokes that he bends down to whisper in your ear. He compliments you freely, and you do the same in return.

As the night continues you and Hoseok dance closer and closer until he’s pressed deliciously up against your back. You find yourself lost in the sensation of being embraced by someone, even if it isn’t the person you’d want to be there.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but do you wanna come home with me?” The man leans down, the husk of his voice brushing deliciously against your ear.

“I can’t.” You say, turning back towards him. “But thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, leaning down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Can I ask you a question before you go?”

You nod.

“Does your refusal have anything to do with the man at the bar who hasn’t taken his eyes off of us since we started dancing?”

“What?”

He nods over your shoulder, back towards the bar. Through the crowd, you can barely see your friends, but as you reach up on your tippy toes you see them all gathered around, laughing and talking. And then at the edge of them is Jimin. He stands tall and proud and with an unusually grim expression on his face. But when he sees you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze to his drink, which he is continually swirling in his hand.

“You’re going home with him, aren’t you?”

“Well, duh, he’s my roommate, I—”

“You should go for it,” he interrupts you.

“Go for it?”

“Go for it.”

“There’s nothing there,” you state, matter of factly. “We’re just really good friends!” You’re not sure why you tell him this, but there’s something soft in his eyes that spurs you on.

“Good friends don’t eye fuck each other all night.”

“We weren’t—”

“No need to explain it to me.” He holds up his hands. “But it seems like you have some explaining to do to him. Or at least to yourself.”

You sputter. “Psh! What! No! I’m just tired, Hobi, and if I had the energy I would be fucking you right here, right now, on the dance floor. It has nothing to do with Jimin. Nothing at all!” You realize you’ve got your finger poking into his chest and you quickly draw it back. “Sorry.”

“Okay…”

“Well.” You put your hands on your hips, wiping the frustrated look off of your face. “I should go, I guess. It was nice dancing with you, partner. I’ll be the first to admit you got great hips.”

He’s laughing, and you’re not sure if it’s at you or with you, but when you extend you hand for a friendly fistbump, he meets it with all the enthusiasm in the world, pulls you into a hug, and is off on his merry way, off to find a new dancing partner.

Left alone in the middle of the floor, you kind of just stand there, mulling over what the stranger had said to you. Soon though, you feel a hand on your shoulder and you spin around to see a blank faced Jimin.

“I, uh, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m all good!” you chirp, perhaps too cheerfully. As you begin to make your way back to the bar, his hand comes to rest on your lower back and you shiver at the touch.

“So you’re not going home with him?” He nods back in the direction of the disappearing stranger.

“Why would I?”

“Well, you wore your slut dress, so I figured he was a contender.” He doesn’t meet your eye.

“I didn’t want to fuck him.” You stop, and turn to him.

He laughs, almost nervously. “Well I guess that’s an important factor.”

“Yeah, just a minor detail,” you shoot back, grinning.

“I guess it’s all for the best. Didn’t like the looks of him much anyways.

You giggle. “What? Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be jealous.”

“Can’t be? Or aren’t?”

Jimin blinks back at you, an expression of utter surprise on his face. You know his answer in that moment, and yet — there is a kind of doubt that sits in you. That until he says it, it just won’t be real.

And still, he avoids your question.

“I think I’m gonna head home, do you wanna come with or head back with Tae and Raven?”

“I’ll come back with you, there’s nothing left here for me.”

“Great,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “Let’s go.”

“My heat is still out,” you call.

You’re standing at the door to his room in nothing but your pajama shirt. When you’d gotten home Jimin was quick to wish you goodnight and sweet dreams and book it up to his bedroom. You had gone to your own room and changed into sleep clothes, only to climb into bed and realize just how fucking freezing your blankets still were.

But as you stand outside his bedroom, when you press down on the handle, the door is unusually locked. He never locks the door, you think.

“Jimin!”

You push down on the handle, jiggling it obnoxiously as you hope your best friend can hear you from the other side, and isn’t just ignoring you. As you rattle the metal handle, something seems to come loose within the door and all of a sudden the door is swinging open inwards and there’s Jimin, leaning against the backboard of his bed, legs spread, and--

“Oh no—”

Even as your hands flash up to cover your eyes, you know it’s too late.

You’ve already seen it.

It’s imprinted on your brain. The image of Jimin with his head thrown back, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock hastily pulled out of his jeans. He must have been in such a rush he didn’t even bother to pull his pants down. Instead, the leather pants are simply tugged down just enough from him to slip his cock out of them.

“What the fuck!” he yelps.

“Did I—interrupt?” You can’t help but burst into giggles, even as you keep your hands firmly clamped to your face.

“Yes! Yes, you did!” he says, scrambling for the sheet. He pulls it over himself and then does up his pants again.

“If it makes you feel any better you have a nice looking dick!” you squeak out from behind your hands.

He wipes a hand wearily over his face.

“You really wanna have a conversation about my dick right now?”

“See a dick, converse about a dick, am I right?” you laugh nervously.

“No, no, you’re not. It usually goes like ‘see a dick, forget the fact that you ever looked at a dick.’”

“You got a point there.”

The room falls into silence for a moment before Jimin coughs and speaks.

“You can take your hands away now.”

Ever-so-slowly you release your hands from your face, looking over at Jimin who looks — not upset, not embarrassed, not angry — but intrigued. He’s looking at you with a mix of curiosity — and something else. Something you can’t quite put a finger on.

“Welp, I better be going—”

“I thought you said your heat is still out.”

You turn back around slowly.

“...It is. But I can go. I don’t want to make you feel… uncomfortable.”

“You’ve never made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if you could.”

“I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable before. Like that one time I put peanut butter on your special pickles and tried to fry them—”

“Okay, okay, maybe in like, a superficial way. But not in a deep way.” He pauses. “You’re my best friend for a reason.”

You’re still standing in the doorway, and as he looks you over — gaging your reaction, reading your emotions, trying to understand what’s going on in that far-off mind of yours — he realizes you’ve got your arms wrapped around your torso, protecting yourself from the biting draft that drifts down the hallway.

“Come ‘ere. You’re sleeping here tonight.” He says it without hesitation.

You look at him, and then back down the darkened hallway, and then back at him, the warm glow of his bedside lamp painting his features gold. His cheeks are still slightly flushed, his chest peeks out of his loose button down. And perhaps it’s that image that draws you to him — or, what you tell yourself in that moment, the inviting warmth of the layers of blankets on his bed and the radiator that sits close by.

You climb into bed, quickly tucking yourself into the blankets and rolling onto your side, away from him. However, you can feel his hands reaching out towards you, pulling the blankets closer to you, tucking you in further to their addicting warmth.

“I’m uh, gonna read for a little bit, is that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, course,” you say, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow you’ve stolen and burry your face into.

He rifles through the nightstand. Behind you, he shifts, getting a bit more comfortable and you can hear the comforting sound of pages turning as he begins to read.

Even as you close your eyes, sleep evades you. As much as you try to banish it from your mind, it seems as if the image of his thick cock is burned into your retina, the vein on the underside of it swollen and pronounced. All you can see in your mind’s eye is Jimin, lost in his own pleasure. His face scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. What would it be like to see what he saw, whatever it was that had him gripping his cock so tight the knuckles began to turn white?

“So do you usually masterbate without porn?”

It slips out before you know what you’re saying.

He coughs behind you, and it sounds like he’s choking.

“What?!”

Well, you think. Now that it’s out there I might as well just go for it. You flip over onto your otherside, face half hidden by the blanket.

“When I walked in on you — you were just… lost in thought. No video or audio or,” you nod at the book he’s holding. “Rip off of Half a Hundred Colors of Dark-White.”

He gapes at you.

“Why are you so obsessed with my masterbatory habits, hm?”

“I-I’m not! I’m just curious, like one would be when they accidentally catch their best friend masterbating. We all, you know, do it. I, myself, have a very lovely connection of multi-colored vibrators — all sizes and shapes and, uh, textures? And vibrations and settings and speeds and—”

“So you wanna talk about it then?” He’s still sitting above, looking down on you. He cocks an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You didn’t want to talk about last night but you want to talk about how I get myself off?”

It’s your turn to gape.

“Uh, what? Last night, psh no!”

He readjusts his position so he’s facing you now, one leg bent and propped up, the other one folded beneath it. You do your best to keep your gaze focused on his face, and not on the prominent bulge that is now in your direct line of vision.

“So you weren’t grinding on my cock last night — or god forbid tonight at the club — But you wanna know about my masterbatory habits?”

You swallow and despite the chill air of the bedroom, you sit up, letting the blankets fall around your waist.

“I suppose that is what I’m asking.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you lick your lips. You know what you’re asking. You know where you’re pushing things. Everything about this next step terrifies you. And yet, it’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past 24 hours. Hell, the past several years.

You’d be lying if you said that last night’s dream was the tamest of the ones Jimin starred in. He haunted you. His image, his being, were everywhere you turned. Even when you were with other partners or one night stands, all you could do was compare them to Jimin. Were they as softly hilarious as him? Did they know your every thought, your every desire, like he did? Could they anticipate your mood before you even could? Did they fill you with that feeling of belonging and safety like he did? No. None of them ever did. You didn’t just crave Jimin’s attention, you craved his touch.

“You know, most friends talk about this kind of shit.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. They talk about sex. They talk about getting off. They talk about their interests and turn-offs and fantasies and--”

“And you wanna talk about this?” His hand lands on yours. You look up at him as he squeezes your fingers within his warm grasp.

“I-I guess I do. Sometimes it bothers me that we don’t talk about it.”

“Then let’s talk about it,” he says, a little bit more confidence slipping into his voice. He picks your hand up, weaving his fingers in between yours. The way he looks at them reminds you of someone looking at a beautiful vista or an undiscovered creature for the first time. There is wonder -- and also confusion -- in him. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I never wanted to… turn our friendship into something that you didn’t want. Something that made you uncomfortable.”

“And I didn’t want to push.”

“Push me? Into what?”

You glance down at your hands. “I don’t know, something that you were disgusted by.”

“I could never be disgusted by you. It’s the opposite, actually.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away? When I want to talk about things? When I want to be close to you?”

Jimin is silent for a moment.

“Because I’m never sure if this is just fun to you,” he says softly. “What if something happens and you realize you don’t want it in the way you thought you did?”

“And what if something happens and it’s exactly what I want?” One hand still resting in his grasp, you reach out with the free one to clutch onto his shirt. Not wanting to push too far, you make do with tangling your fingers in the silky fabric, twisting it around yourself until you are lost in it.

You don’t see it coming. His hand reaching up to yours, pressing your hand to his chest. Slowly, he slides your intertwined hands up until he can press your palm to his chest. Beneath the fabric you can hear the gentle thud of his heart beating, quicker than usual. And there, he just holds it. Mulling. Contemplating.

“It feels like I’ve been distracted…” He licks his lips as he considers his next several words. “...for weeks. Probably longer. I’ve been trying to hold everything in because it’s not supposed to be there. But the temptation to just give in… To just lean into the things that I want… It’s always there. It doesn’t go away. But--sometimes I can distract myself from it.”

“What is it that you want?”

His gaze flickers back up from your lips. The look in his eyes is searing. Burning. There’s desire there — one that’s all consuming — but something else too. He refuses to look away from you, instead roving over your whole face as if he’s trying to memorize it. As if when he speaks next he might forget you entirely. And that’s when you realize. It’s not confusion dancing in his eyes. It’s loss. He thinks he’s going to lose you.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t have it.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to hold back. “There— there are lines that once you cross you can never go back to.”

“Jimin, I want you.”

The words hang in the stilled silence of the room like lead, suspended and out of place. But you push on, and as you do, his grip tightens around your hands and he’s pulling you forward until you’re flush against his chest.

“And it’s not because of your monster cock -- although that’s like a really really great benefit that I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting--” Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Anyways, I want you for you. I think I’ve wanted you since I met you, but--” You glance down. “I’ve been too scared to admit it. Too scared or too dumb.”

Jimin raises your chin so that you are eye to eye. He’s so close.

“I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you.” He lets his hands drop to your hips, maneuvering you so that you’re fully straddling his waist as he sits up against the headboard. “I wanted you in my life, in whatever way that would be. I wanted you as my best friend and my inspiration and my home -- and to have you like that? I would never want to fuck it up.”

“Then don’t.”

“Simple as that,” he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your hips. He tightens his grip and you instinctively wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer to you.

“Simple as that,” you repeat.

The words hang in the air for a moment, filling the space of the bedroom. And then their sound is gone, leaving the air vacant of sound. The weight of what you’ve both just said crashes down upon you.

Simple as that.

“I want to kiss you,” Jimin whispers. “Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” you barely manage to mumble before your lips are crashing together. They begin clumsily, desperate. Teeth knocking together as you both scramble frantically for connection. For the missed years. For the gazes thrown across the hallway, quick and longing.

And then you find your groove. Just like on the dance floor, there is an unspoken communication to the way that you move together. Chasing and pursuing. Biting and pressing. You gasp as Jimin slips his tongue between your lips, swiping against the roof of your mouth.

It feels like forever and no time at all that you’re wrapped up in his arms, his hands climbing the height of your back as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

As the kiss slips into gentleness, you feel him between your legs. He’s impossibly hard. You don’t know if it’s thought or basic instinct that leads you to press your hips forward, sliding ever so slightly along his length. You know you’ve done the right thing when he groans into your mouth. You do it again, this time swiveling against him. His hands snake down to your hips, fingers digging into the fleshy bits of your sides.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” he groans against your lips.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He kisses you fiercely and you let your hands wander beneath the silk of his shirt, tracing the planes of his skin until you’ve had enough and need more. You attempt to tug the fabric up, but he seems lost in your lips.

“Off, please,” you say when you can’t get it over his shoulders.

He grins at you and shucks it off in one go, tossing it onto the floor.

You lean back just enough to admire him like this, the planes of his chest glowing dimly in the light of the lamp.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur in awe.

He captures your lips again, his movements soft and dutiful. And then with all the gentleness in the world, he turns the both of you, cradling the nape of your neck as he lowers you down onto the pillows.

“I never thought I could have you like this.”

“Me neither. I-I don’t know if I can go back.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I already know I don’t want to go back.”

You smile up at him, a feeling of warmth and love spreading through your chest. As he sits back, looking down on you, you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it to join his discarded top on the floor.

His eyes rove over your naked form, bare of everything except for the grannie panties you slipped on before knocking on his door. At the beginning of the night you wanted nothing but to make sure everything was thoroughly covered. Now you wish you had gone for something a bit more stylish.

Even as you think this, looking at him you know he doesn’t give a flying fuck what you’re wearing.

He leans down again, kissing you. He lets his weight rest just enough on you as he settles between your legs and you arch up at the dull contact.

As he bites down on your lip, you push up into him, searching for more.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

“Please,” you gasp.

His hand comes down on your thigh, pushing you open just enough. And then, as he comes back to kiss you, he slips his hand down your stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of your panties.

You can’t help as your hips buck up as he slips a finger down your folds. You’re already soaking, arousal quickly coating his finger.

“Shh, shh,” he whispers against your lips, gaze searching yours. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

As the final word slips out of his mouth, he inserts the first finger into your tight entrance and you yelp in pleasure, the feeling of him filling you more sensation than you could imagine. Ever so slowly, he begins to pump it in and out before adding a second finger.

“I want to get you ready for me,” he murmurs. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want it,” you gasp as he presses against your g spot. “Please, I need it, please, Jimin, fuck me.”

“Patience, baby. I will in due time. But first I need you a little more stretched out.”

When he adds a third finger, the pressure building deliciously in your abdomen, there’s nothing you can do to hold back the way your body jerks or the whine that slips through your lips.

“God, I never even imagined you would sound this desperate, this beautiful.”

As he continues to press against the soft spongy spot inside you, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep control but quickly losing it.

“You thought about this?”

“Of course I thought about it.”

“Tell me what you thought about,” you pant, his fingers still working rhythmically in and out of you.

“The list is endless,” he murmurs. “I think about what it would feel like to fuck you. What it would sound like to have you call my name. What it would be like to have you cum again and again around my cock, and then walk out of here, with it dripping down your leg so that anyone who sees will know it too. To have you so fucked out and screaming that everyone in a ten mile radius knows exactly who is fucking you so well, who you belong to.”

“Ah!” you cry as your orgasm begins to build. “Jimin! I’m so close, I--”

And just like that, his fingers are gone from your clenching walls and you are left with a feeling of absolute emptiness drifting through you. He pulls back with a smirk.

“Wha--”

“When you come, I want it to be around my cock.”

Your gaze flickers down to his crotch, where his dick is straining against the tight confines of the leather. “That just can’t be comfortable,” you say, your voice shaking even as you unapologetically eye his obvious arousal. “Please take them off. I’ll make you feel good.”

“You can?”

“I want to,” you explain. “I want to help.” You look up at him again and see that his gaze is dark with desire. “Can I?”

Slowly, he nods, and you reach out towards him, for the buttons to his jeans. As your fingers land on the cold metal of the button, his come down atop yours, popping the button open expertly.

As you slowly slide the zipper down, you swallow.

Everything about this feels right. There’s the sensation of a fire burning in your chest. It’s not just wanting his body. It’s chasing the feeling of electricity sparking through you every time he touches you. Chasing the want of his hands, his gaze, his everything focused on you. Something twinges in your heart. Even as you want these things, you know it’s not fair to ask them of him, to expect them of him.

He stands to slip the rest of his pants off and you realize he’s not even wearing underwear. You gulp as you watch him strip, his beautiful body soon revealed in the dim lighting. His cock stands at full attention, deliciously hard and poking against his belly.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.

“I want it more than anything.”

The bed dips underneath his weight as he climbs towards where you lay. He lowers himself above you, expertly balancing his weight so that it doesn’t crush you. With one hand, he reaches down to palm his hard cock, the tip red and angry with need. With his knee, he pushes your legs wide open, making room for himself and spreading you out before him. At a devastatingly slow speed, he lines himself up with your aching center.

“So wet for me, princess. You’ve always been beautiful to me, but spread out like this, just waiting for my cock? You’re a dream.”

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please what?”

As he comes to nestle his cock in between your dripping folds, you whimper with need.

All you can feel is his cock, his touch against your skin, the way his presence surrounds you and envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper. “I need you, Jimin.”

He chuckles.

“You’re so desperate, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“My baby wants me to fuck her?” He slides slowly in and your back arches devilishly at the sensation of his fat cock stretching you open for him. He watches your facial expression carefully, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far too fast.

When he sees you relax just a little, he pushes in even further until he’s nestled inside you to the hilt. Once he knows you’re comfortable, he lets himself slip into the pleasure of you wrapped all around him. His eyes flutter closed, and he nestles his nose into the crook of your neck.

Gathering himself, he takes a deep breath, pushing up off of you so that he can better look down at you, your hair splayed on the pillow, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes wide in pleasure.

“God, you’re perfect for my cock. Like you were made to fit me.”

“Mmf, so big,” you groan as he shifts inside you. “Never felt this full before.”

As he begins to move, you gasp, hands coming up to cling at his back. The drag of his cock against the walls of your cunt is divine and you can’t help as your nails dig into his skin, raking down the planes of his back.

His eyes never leave your face, tracing your pleasure every time it flashes across your features.

“When I imagined this,” he pants, “I never even thought it could feel this good.”

He withdraws at a maddeningly slow pace, until just the tip of his cock rests inside your warmth.

“Please Jimin,” you gasp. “I need more.”

He smirks down at you. “More?” He gives a shallow thrust.

“More,” you groan, trying to push your hips down on him, anything to take him further into you. However, his hand quickly comes down on your hips, stopping all movement.

Leaning down to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, you gasp into his mouth as he thrusts into you with a great force. You cry his name as he bites down on your lower lip, the pace he sets brutal and exactly what you need. Each thrust rolls through your entire body, setting your nerves alight. When he gives a particularly hard thrust, your spine arches, hands slipping away from his back and coming to wrap around his wrists.

When he growls, you clench at the sound.

Your eyes flicker open in time to see his mouth gape and he groans when you do it again.

He answers your tightness with another roll of his hips, this time changing the angle just enough that it hits your g spot directly. You spasm around his cock, crying out as he continues to fuck you.

“You’ve ruined me,” Jimin gasps. “Nothing else, no one else is going to be like this. I wanna fuck this cunt until you can’t think of anything else.”

You start to respond, to tell him how much you want that, but his hand comes down on your clit, rubbing just gently enough that you’re yelping in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.

“I’m really gonna fuck you now, baby. I want you to touch yourself until you can’t anymore, okay?”

You nod, reaching down to your clit where your fingers brush against one another. You look down to see his cock rutting in and out of you, coated in your juices. As he withdraws his hand, he begins to pick up his speed.

The pace he sets reaches deep into your body, setting every nerve alight. You cling to him, begging him to fuck you harder. His cock seems to reach every single sensitive spot within you as rock your hips back up to his, meeting his every movement. He lets you now, lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, seeking the same pleasure together.

When his pace begins to stutter, thrusts becoming long and rough, you know he’s close to his end.

“Baby, I’m going to come,” he groans. He begins to sit back up and withdraw, but you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him towards you, the other one coming to press on the dip of his hips.

“Come inside, Jimin.”

“But--”

“I’m safe. I want to feel you come inside me. Wanna come with you.”

He groans at your words and lowers himself to you, letting his hips grind against yours in a tide of sensation. Each movement pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm until three words are tumbling from his lips and you are tipping over the edge.

He kisses you as you both ride out your orgasm, waves of pleasure washing through your body and into his as if you are connected on more than just a physical level. His lips are soft against yours, guiding you through your orgasm. Everything is breathless and wildly full, all at once.

Pulling back as his cock twitches within you, he peppers your neck with kisses, his plush lips pressing softly against the delicate skin beneath your ear.

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I love you too,” you hum, eyes fluttering blissfully closed as you tangle a hand in his hair, pressing him closer to you.

That’s how you fall asleep. Tangled up in each other, bodies meshed together until there’s no way to tell which way is up.

You wake up wrapped in warmth. The kind of warmth that radiates from your heart, shining on outwards and into the room around you. And, as your eyes blink open, you notice it also radiates from the absolute furnace that clings to your back.

“Mmm,” the furnace grumbles, rubbing his nose against the soft nape of your neck. You can feel him press his lips against the top of your spine, his breath fanning delicately against your skin. “G’morning.”

“Morning.” You speak softly, as if any noise will break the memory of last night, his whispered affections against your skin as you drifted off to sleep still hanging in the air. Too loud and you will shatter and destroy the memory. The words of his confession still carved into your skin, your mixed pleasures riddled through your body, the song of his joy and laughter emblazoned into the room -- all of that, you think, will disappear if you move too quickly or speak too loudly.

However, that notion is quickly banished when Jimin rolls over and groans dramatically, spreading his limbs out until he starfishes over the entire bed -- including you. With a little grunt, he flips over on his belly, shimmying over to you. Pulling the blankets down around you, you gasp as the cool air hits your skin.

He’s quick to rectify this as he rolls onto you, resting his head on your stomach, blowing a raspberry into your skin. You screech in laughter and as the sensation rushes through you, tickling you.

It takes a minute or two before you calm down, looking lovingly down at the man who holds your heart and running a hand through his hair, brushing it off of his forehead.

“I love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your belly.

“Do you?” you giggle, doubt still riddled in your mind.

His eyes shoot up to yours.

“Of course I do. Is there any question about it?” You look down on him, worry in your gaze. “Oh, baby.” He’s quick to prop himself up on his hands, but still stays sprawled out atop you, his weight heavy and comforting. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you--” You open your mouth to tell him there’s no such thing as love at first sight, but his hand comes up quickly and covers your mouth, effectively shushing you. “--at least I knew I was going to love you the first time I saw you. I knew I was going to fall madly and deeply in love with all of your quirks and strange obsessions and deep passions and maddenly horrible humor. And I knew I loved you a year in, and every day after that.”

You look down on him, tears welling up in your eyes at his sincerity.

“Come ‘ere,” you say, pulling him up towards you. He crawls up your chest, playfully nipping at your bare breasts before settling against you. He kisses you. Lets you sink into the sensation. And then he pulls back and says,

“Aren’t you going to tell me you love me too?”

You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of that dorky smile.

But you do know the tears threatening to spill over are rising from the deep, unnamable affection that rolls through your chest, finally released from silence. You want to call it love, and that is what you will call it, but there’s also something that goes so much deeper than the word itself. Something you know you will spend your whole life trying to explain to him.

read more: masterlist

Taglist: @taestannie @thatlongspringnight @spicykoreantatertots @usuallynervoussheep @hesperantha @myimaginationsrunningwild@lucedelsole97 @heichooou @jiminskth

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meltingpotimagines · 3 years

Text

Husband!Hawks

this mans

is not husband material

but!

for the right girl? he may be willing to play the part

listen, mans may not be a simp but he is cHARMING okay? he got potential

besides he’s lowkey a simp for the right girl but whatever

was very romantic when he proposed

managed to rent out an entire park perks of being the #2 hero

decked out a gazebo with fairy lights, candles, and rose petals

considered making a heart with the rose petals but decided just scattering them around would be classier and less cheesy

set up a picnic with a basket f u l l of food

sandwiches, cheese, fruit, desserts, the works

and ofc a bottle of champagne bc tonight you two would be celebrating

or so he hoped

you wouldn’t say no right?

i mean who could say no to that gorgeous face pHEW

pulled out the ring box right as you swallowed the last of the macaron you’d been nibbling on

his heart sped up as your eyes widened, a breathless ‘keigo’ escaping your lips

“i know you might not be ready, but the more i get to know you, the more i realize that i don’t want to live the rest of my life without you. you’re the girl of my dreams, and i never want to wake up. would you marry me?”

“are you s t u p i d? ofc i will!”

his grin has never been as bright as it was at that moment

slipped the ring onto your finger and immediately pulled you into his arms and took off into the air

slowed your assent as you two soared above the clouds and spun around, unable to contain his joy

gazed at your face with those golden eyes, taking in your beauty, before giving you the sweetest, most tender kiss you’ve ever felt

oh boy the wedding

when i tell you this was an e v e n t i mean anyone who was anyone wanted to go to this wedding

but only those that were close to the two of you were invited

haha suckerrrs

somehow got all might to officiate

who knew all might could officiate weddings?

certainly neither of you

no one really knows how that decision came to be but i mean no one was complaining either so

he let you make all the decisions except for one

the flowers

he h a d to be involved in the flowers

he appreciates pretty flora and if the bouquets and floral arrangements at his wedding weren’t the prettiest possible he would n o t be satisfied

teared up as you walked down the aisle (which he will neither confirm nor deny)

not that he wasn’t lookin’ mighty fine too

just imagine: tan suit with a black button up and a gold tie, gold cufflinks with a ruby set in each

i know those are his costume colors but he looks good in them so y’all can fight me

dipped you for your first kiss as husband and wife to everyone’s amusement

best believe a few different cameras caught that

the timing of the wedding was planned out so the reception was held at night

semi-sheer white tents and custom black ten-feet tall candelabras

the soft glow from the candles combined with the moonlight made for the perfect dreamy vibe

he managed to find a florist that could dye white roses black and cover them them with a thin layer of gold glitter

was it necessary? no

did it look good? heck yeah

the gold glitter shined beautifully against the black roses

tho

the way your eyes sparkled as you danced with him was far more captivating

you two had flown up into the sky to dance your first dance together

your silhouettes against the bright moon made for a perfect picture

the only reason you ended up coming down was because neither of you had eaten much that day and a guy’s gotta eat

he gonna need stamina later *winky face*

you cannot convince me the man wouldn’t insist on fried chicken

like a whole buffet table of different flavors

but i mean fried chicken is good so can’t blame him

everyone expected him to smear some cake on your face when he fed you that first piece

instead wiped off the frosting that got on your lips with his thumb and licked it off

your best friend caught t h a t one on camera and will never stop teasing you about how flustered you got

he kept up a great image of a polite host but on the inside he was ready to g o

it had been a long day and he was ready love on his wife

heh

wife

he likes the sound of that

peppers your face with kisses on the ride home

yeah yeah i know h o n e y m o o n but where y’all were goin’ was forever away and mans just wants to shower you with affection as soon as possible (esp considering he had to keep his hands off you all day since you two never had a moment alone)

scoops you up the second you’re out of the car and carries you over the threshold

gives you a soft kiss before putting you down

and that’s the last soft kiss you’re gonna get for the night lolllll

definitely the type to make you breakfast in the morning

also the type to cook in nothing but an apron and boxers but anyway

you better be up in time to see that sight bc if not, you’re getting breakfast in bed not that i’d complain

he’s not the best cook but mans can manage some bacon and eggs

plus some fresh fruit bc it makes it more visually appealing and less like he doesn’t really know how to cook

he set the tray on your lap and climbs back into bed, pulling you into his side so your head can rest on his chest as you two munch on breakfast

there’s something so soothing about the sound of his heartbeat

a soft little rhythm that nearly puts you back the sleep

didn’t help that he was unconsciously running his fingertips along your arm, drawing random squiggles and shapes

will tilt your head up by the chin every so often to give you a little peck on the lips

if you do fall asleep, he’ll just gaze at you softly while lightly tracing your features

still can’t process that you’re married

someone actually loved him enough to marry him

there was someone that didn’t just admire or use him bc of his quirk

didn’t give him attention purely bc he’s the number 2 hero

you saw all his flaws and shortcomings and insecurities and loved him regardless

if he’s dreaming, please don’t wake him up

you cleaning him wings for him is something he loves so much

it’s such an intimate task that makes him feel cared for

loved

how much time you take in cleaning them and how tenderly you handle each wing

it’s one of his favorite ways to spend time with you

it’s nice being taken care of for once, esp when he’s always taking care of others

absolutely loves taking you on night flights

will take you in his arms and just soar above the clouds

with the clouds below you and the stars above, it feels like you two are the only people that exist

definitely dances with you during some of those flights

wraps one arm more tightly around your waist and take your hand in his and just… slowly spins in the air

it doesn’t look like much but when you’re just looking into each other’s eyes, it feels like the most romantic and intimate moment you could ask for

your life is quite literally in his hands but you’ve never felt safer

even more so when you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook

his arms wound securely around your waist, the comforting smell of his scent, the kisses he presses to your temple every so often

it feels like home

likes startling/scaring you a lot

will sneak into the house after work just so he can tap on your shoulder from behind

the gasp you let out as you freak out for half a second never fails to amuse him the jerk

will always make it up to you with long, deep kiss

if he gets home late after a long day he’ll just crawl into bed and pull you into his arms before burying his face into your hair

no talking, just breathes in your scent before he crashes

he sleeps really well like that, but, although he won’t admit it, he sleeps best when you hold him, his face buried in your chest

he feels warm and safe, like it’s okay to be vulnerable for once

absolutely flirts with you while at work

probably definitely sends you a few spicy pics or texts

it gives him such smug satisfaction knowing the affect he has on you when he’s not even physically there

picks up take-out when he knows your too tired to or would rather not cook

like to back hug you and wrap you up with his wings

9/10 times will bury his face in your neck and nuzzle

sometimes if he spots you while on patrol, he’ll fly over and flirt with you

“how you doin’, gorgeous? the name’s hawks. what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ in a neighborhood like this?”

sir, this is one of the safest areas in the city pLS-

but if you actually a r e in danger? oh boy

no one, and i mean no one, touches his girl

honestly i’d rather fight bakugo one on one than deal with keigo’s wrath

he’s one of the chillest people you will ever meet, but when he’s that mad? s c a r y

will keep a close watch on you for a while after that

asks you to always let him know where you’ll be and to text him when you get home

definitely considered installing a tracking app on your phones

he’ll calm down eventually, but for the moment he’s extremely anxious

although he certainly tried his best to hide it

he didn’t want to stress you out too, especially if you had any anxieties from it yourself

he was just afraid to lose you

he doesn’t know what he’d do without you

after all, you’re the most precious thing in the world to him and he loves you more than he could ever put into words

#happy birthday b #hope you enjoyed this #hawks #hawks imagine #hawks headcanons #hawks x reader #keigo #keigo imagine #keigo headcanons #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #my hero academia #mha imagine #mha headcanons #boko no hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha headcanons

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farmnap · 3 years

Text

Sapnap NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It depends on what went down. If it was normal sex or love making, he’d wipe you down, get ya some water and cuddle. If he was fucking your brains out or beating your ass red, that a different story. He’s looked this up so many times, so he knows pretty much what to do.

He’d probably feed you and make sure you hydrate. Make you pee and kiss you while you sit on the toilet, because of your ass that’s most likely bruised, giving comfort. He would bathe you, dress you and I’m sure Y’all would have a non-verbal aftercare system if you’re too into subspace to communicate. He would end it by laying you down, covered in blankets and cuddles.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, he’d probably say his arms or even his penis. His arms hold you tight and give you comfort all the time and his penis well, gets him off.

On you... he loves your chest/breasts. he will just hold a hand on your nipples throughout the day. Laying in bed? Hand up your shirt. Making food? hand up your shirt. If you were bras he would try to hide them just so they nips are out.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He 100% has a breeding kink so he would love to come inside you if you would let him. Otherwise, he’d love to come in your mouth or just on your body... Chest

If i’s your come, penis or vagina, he’d eat it up. Literally if he was sucking your dick, you best best he’d suck you dry and swallow. If you have vagina, my man would lick you like ice cream!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He loves the idea of group sex/ a threesome with dream, where they dominate you and rough you up. He doesn’t really know why, but it just turns him on so much.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Poor virgin boy. he was tottaly a virgin before y’all starting going at it. Although it wasn’t like he new nothing. Dream had given him tips and he’s watched a lot of porn

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual) If y’all are going at it rough, he likes having your back to his chest and a hand on your neck, choking you. He likes the control it gives him.

If it’s sweeter, he probably has you on your back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His face is either buried in your neck or looking into your eyes. Sometimes you’re foreheads with be pressed together. I likes to have his arms under you, arching your body into him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) He doesn't joke a lot. he is often trying his hardest to make you feel good and joking doesn’t often cross his mind.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.). Self grooming never really occurred to him, I have a feel you would have to remind him

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) again, it depends. he can hold you close, whisper sweet words into your ears, kiss you all night OR he can tie you down, edge you then make you come until you cry with an ass beaten red

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) he’s young and horny so of course he jerks off sometimes. He will always prefer you to his hand but when your not available he wont hesitate

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Sadism

Voyeurism

phone sex/nudes

bondage\

overstimulation

edging

face sitting

degradation

nipples

threesome

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do) I was gonna say he’d be down to do it anywhere but I actually think that he’d hate public sex. Like anywhere in a private location is fine, but he doesn’t like others seeing you vulnerable. Its less for him but for your privacy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You litteraly existing is enough for him. He likes you sitting on his lap, strangly he likes when you hold his arms.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) CNC, he always want to know 100% that you’re okay with what's happening. He doesn’t like the idea of you saying stop and him not stopping. Any bodily fluids (scat, urine, blood, vomit) cum is weird enough for him

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) He doesn’t love getting oral sex. I know i know, but hear me out . He loves giving you head and that gets him off. He can deep throat so well and is a god at eatiing you out

Pace- fast and rough, 100%. This never changes. What changes is weather he just makes you lie down and take it.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) hates them. he just wants to make you feel good, and he feels as though neither of you can get off well during a quickie

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) he will try most things at least once, unless they go agaisnt anything he hates.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) At first he would come very quickly, lasting maybe 2 minutes once he’s inside you. The more you have sex, the more endurance he gets.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) he loves toys. He has them for you and for himself. Fpr you he hs vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, whips, handcuffs. He wears a cock ring sometimes so he can last

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) he doesn’t actually like teasing very much, as he just wants to fuck you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) This man is very vocal. He isn’t ashamed of moaning in your ear, talking to you how good you make him feel. When he’s coming he rambles praising to you, while you milk him

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) He definetly fucks you hard when dream is around in hopes that dream will hear and join in.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) okay so i’m thinking average length 6 or 7 inches. But i’m guessing like 3 inches thick

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) He will fuck you when every he can

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) he doesn’t fall asleep until you do, he wants to take car of you first before even thinks about sleeping

#smut #sapnap x reader #sapnap smut #sapnap

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

DIWK - Chapter ten: "Set me free my honey bee"

Word count: 11,6K

Summary: Let's jump 19 months in time and see how painful it has turned for reader and Spencer to hide their feelings for each other. JJ leaves the team, and a new member joins the BAU.

Warnings: Angst and hurt. Fools being assholes. Cursing, of course. Mention of CM cases and spoilers on S06E11.

A/N: Please don't hate me. Just remember things usually look like the shit before they get worst, and then everything is better. I hope.

Masterlist

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻❁༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

(Y/N)'s point of view

Time is a weird thing. I remember when I was in school and time didn't pass fast enough. Semesters were eternal. It felt it had been years by the time summer vacation arrived. The complete opposite happened to me at the BAU. Suddenly, time passed too quickly. A whole year and a half went by in the blink of an eye.

I told Spencer about it, and he sent me a paper published by Professor Adrian Bejan that presented an argument based on the physics of neural signal processing. He hypothesizes that, over time, the rate at which we process visual information slows down, and this is what makes time 'speed up' as we grow older.

My answer was that I thought it happened 'cos as we grew older, we did things that actually gave us joy, which made us feel the time was passing faster than before. So we argued a whole Saturday afternoon about it and created our own theories for that event.

My theory was my personal favorite, 'cos it was the only one that could easily explain why so much time had passed in the BAU, and it felt like it had been just a few weeks.

It hadn't been easy, though. Those nineteen months had been filled with some of the worst situations we had been through as a team.

After I got shot, JJ finally admitted her relationship with Will and got pregnant. That was shocking, the first BAU baby: Henry.

Sadly, Henry was the only little good thing that happened that year. Because to sum it up, a bunch of awful shit happened to all of us: Hotch was in a car explosion that almost killed him. Spencer and Prentiss got trapped in an undercover mission into an underground cult to investigate child abuse, and Emily was beaten up pretty badly. Also, Spencer got infected with anthrax and nearly died. That was probably the most agonizing moment I had lived since the whole Tobias Hankel situation two years earlier.

Also, that year Prentiss had to investigate the case of the death of one of her best friends, and I was in a pretty nasty fight with an unsub that got me out of the field for three weeks. Not to mention, Spencer was shot in the leg.

Hotch was stabbed by the only unsub that has actually won against the BAU: Foyet. He attacked Aaron and got on the lose for months, but we all knew his next move as torture Hotch's family. That's why his ex-wife Haley and his little son Jack had to go into protective custody, and he couldn't see them for months while we tried to catch Foyet.

Things didn't go as planned. And without a doubt, the worst moment that year was the day Haley died. Foyet killed her, and Aaron lost it. He literally killed him with his bare hands the moment he got him. For a solid week, I was sure Aaron Hotchner wouldn't be the unit chief anymore. Strauss actually opened an investigation related to everything that happened that day. But in the end, somehow, she understood the "bloodbath" that had happened in that house was all in Foyet's hands.

However, there's no way to deny that the whole team had changed in many ways after that year. The concept of being a family was now more present than ever. After chasing Foyet for months, we were all onto him as if he was chasing our own family, because he was.

You don't work this kind of job with a team like mine and don't get attached to them. And this goes beyond how in love I was with Spencer. The (Y/N) who first stepped into the BAU, scared to show her true self, was long gone. And despite my deepest fears, letting them in and showing them who I really was had been one of the smartest decisions I have ever made.

Do you want to know which was my stupidest decision? Falling in love with Spencer Reid. It hadn't actually been my choice. I just didn't fight the feeling either. I don't think I could have even if I tried, though. Those nineteen months brought us so close, my mom thought we were living together, and the teasing from our friends was so common we weren't even affected by it.

For Christ Sakes, even Strauss thought we were dating! She forced us to attend a seminar on fraternization, concerned after she realized we always took our vacation together. We had a lot of fun trips, though. First, we visited his mom and had an amazing weekend in Las Vegas. Then we took a few days off after the anthrax incident and went to Hawaii. Picture Spencer Reid in an "all-inclusive," drinking all the coffee and eating all the pastries possible while reading a million books underneath an extra-large umbrella. We had fun that week, did some local touring, but most of all, sleeping in and relaxing. Spencer hates the beach but got those tickets anyway.

Did everybody think we were a couple? Yes

Did it help that we shared rooms, 'cos we were already used to it? No

Did it feel like a honeymoon without sex? Yes

Could I stop thinking about sex with Spencer? No.

And all that led us to the nightmare our relationship was going to become.

Penelope Garcia was drunk. She kept pouring shots and pushing them to us. Emily was wasted as well. But she kept acting like the classy lady she is. Not like JJ. My poor baby had mascara smeared under her eyes after crying for like an hour.

We found out she was leaving the team, and it was a hard blow on us. And by hard, I mean the worst thing that had ever happened to us. We had suffered without JJ when she was on maternity leave. And we struggled without her. Now knowing the Pentagon had taken her away from the BAU was torture.

We had a goodbye party for her at Rossi's, but this was our goodbye girl's night, and neither of us was holding anything back.

We had cried, we had sung sad songs. We drank all the champagne, wine, and vodka we could find. And now, holding our tequila shots, we knew it was time to call it a night.

- "I just love you girls so much,"- JJ whispered, crying- I don't wanna work without you.

- "Boo, come here!!"- I opened my arms and wrapped them around my friend, kissing the top of her hair a few times- "I love you too, and you are going to come back so soon you won't have time to miss us. You'll see. Papa Rossi and Dada Hotch are gonna fix everything."

I was drunk. Seriously drunk. But that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet with JJ. The truth is, I was broken-hearted. Like Penelope and Reid, I didn't manage change very well, and the fact that JJ was forced to leave made me feel frustrated and mad. But most of all, it made me think of every time I had been a little bitch with her during the years. And I regretted each one of them.

- "And we won't be far!"- Emily added and caressed JJ's arm, smiling kindly- "You will still be in town, and we will not leave you alone"- JJ chuckled and nodded.

- "I know, girls. Shit, I love you all so much!"

- "We love you too!"- Penelope sobbed and moved closer, wrapping the three of us in her arms.

- "Please, take care!"- JJ wiped off the tears from her eyes and looked at us- "Emily, don't do anything stupid! Don't rush in the field, and please don't take your fucking vest off!!"

- "I won't! I promise!"

- "You have to live to be Unit chief one day!"- JJ added, and Prentiss widened her eyes, shocked.

- "That's not really my gold."

- "But you'd be queen, baby!!"- Jareau added and turned to Penelope- "And you, please make sure Hotch eats. I kept a stack of granola bars on my desk to keep him fueled during the day. He usually forgets lunchtime and skips dinner, so..."

- "Don't worry, JJ,"- Penelope nodded, and we all felt our heartbreak a little thinking about all the things JJ did in her daily basics to take care of the team, and we didn't even know.

- "How are we going to survive without you?"- I mumbled, pouting. JJ chuckled and held my hand.

- "You are a rock, and you will do a fantastic job keeping this team together. Just, please, can you and Spencer start dating now?"

I wide opened my eyes and stared at JJ. The comment surprised me. I shouldn't, 'cos the whole "you and Spencer should start dating" joke was getting old. Only this time, JJ wasn't joking. She held both my hands and looked right into my eyes.

- "(Y/N), he loves you"- I was about to argue with her, but she covered my mouth with her Cheetos smelling hand.

- "Don't say a word! Spencer loves you so much you really must be blind not to see it. And I know you love him too. It's implied in all the little things you do for him every day. So don't take it for granted. Don't think this will last forever 'cos look at me! A week ago, I was happily working at the BAU, and now I'm drinking at my goodbye party! So don't waste any more time! You are in love with Spencer, and he loves you! It doesn't take a profiler to see it. So please! Act on it!"

There was a dramatic silence after. I didn't know how to break it. I could just joke around, but somehow, it didn't feel right. It had been too quiet for too long, and that made everything harder to deny. Finally, Emily put her hand on mine, just like JJ was still doing, and smiled at me.

- "There's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). You are not the first person to fall for her best friend."

- "And the Junior G Man loves you so much,"- Penelope added, landing her hand on our hands too.

- "As his friend"- I corrected and sighed. I guess that was it. After three years, I could probably start facing my feelings in front of my friends.

- "No, (Y/N)"- Garcia tried to argue, but I shook my head and stood up, 'cos all that sudden attention and affection was bothering me.

- "PG, I was in Hawaii with the man, sharing a room, walking around in a bikini, and he didn't do anything."

- "That's because he is shy!"- Emily excused him right away.

- "My bikini leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. Do you know what he said when he first saw me on it?"- I looked at my friend and poured us another round of tequila- "And I quote, "I don't think I brought enough books. This one is too interesting."

I air quoted with my fingers as we spoke, and the three of them looked at me, speechless. I made my point and drank my shot, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat. My friends opened their mouths but didn't produce a word. I sighed and looked at them.

- "But he hates the beach, and he took you there anyway,"- Emily pointed out

- "Did he give you his speech about how he hates sandy food?"- JJ asked me, and I chuckled, nodding.

- "And about pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, and of course, the real reason he hates the beach: drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces."

- "And the man took you to the beach!"- Penelope argued.

- "But he didn't do anything! he didn't make his move, didn't even hold my hand!!"- I nearly shouted- "That's why, among a lot of reasons, is how I know Spencer is not interested in me! If only I'd tell you all the shit we've been through!"

- "Please!! Tell us!!"- Garcia begged and grabbed one of my legs- "I won't live another day 'cos I won't be able to deal with the mystery!"

- "No! 'cos you are gonna tell Morgan"- I slurred- "And he is going to embarrass and tease my honey bunny, and my honey bunny is gonna get all nervous and nervous around me, and we are never going to..."- I stopped talking and looked at my friends. I was sharing too much.

- "(Y/N)?"- Prentiss looked at me, but I just shook my head and looked down.

- "I think I better go home."

- "No, you can't drive like this,"- JJ argued immediately and held my hand- "I'm not gonna let you go intoxicated. Will is gonna come pick me up, and we'll drop you in your place."

I nodded at her and stayed still. My friends smiled at me, and slowly very slowly, I leaned on JJ's shoulder and rested my head on it.

- "I love you, boo,"- I whispered, and she giggled- "I don't think I'll stay sane without you there with us anymore."

- "Hotch is gonna manage to get her back,"- Penelope assured me, and I just nodded.

- "Meanwhile, we won't replace you, and if anyone tries to push someone new into the team, we are not gonna take them,"- I added, feeling JJ's hand holding mine.

- "Don't be mean with people just 'cos you miss me. If there's a new teammate, it won't be their fault I was pushed out of the BAU."

- "But, JJ,"- I tried to argue, but she shook her head right away.

- "No, (Y/N). You can't be mean to people just because."

Clearly, my friend hoped I could be the better person. The simple question was: did I want to be the better person? Right there, drunk and sad, the answer was no.

Spencer's point of view

I kept finding myself awake at four in the morning, walking around my apartment, not able to read or to write anything. For the last months, at least twice or three times each week, I would stay awake, no matter how tired I felt, and I would haunt my own apartment, listening to my vinyl records.

The sudden lack of sleep wasn't really something weird in me. I have always been nocturnal. Besides, the news of JJ's departure had hit us all pretty hard. I had already shared my share of tears and tried to manage the fury that caused me to know we were helpless to the government's decisions. There was nothing we could do, neither us, Hotch, or even Strauss. Not that she would if she could.

My family was in crisis, and all we could do was hope for the best and stay together.

It was scary losing JJ. It made me think of all the things that could go wrong every day on the field daily. It was bad that we could get hurt or even die on our work. But that they divided us that way made no sense. Like Rossi said: our loss was someone else's winning, and in the FBI, no one cared if we lost.

I poured myself a cup of herbal tea and inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like home. Like (Y/N). She had some of her favorite teas in my apartment. She had a bunch of all her things there, actually. When mom visited, she thought we were living together. She is still sure we are dating and that I don't wanna tell her. I don't longer argue with her about it. It's useless, and it somehow feels good to imagine in another world. It was actually true.

That year my feelings for my best friend had grown in a way that made it all more difficult to deal with. I didn't just love her. I was in love with her. She was in everything I did, in each and every one of my thoughts. I could hear her laughter in my head, like a record playing my favorite song over and over again.

When she was out there in the field, I couldn't stop running all the probabilities of her getting hurt, and most of the time, I would do my best to keep her safe, knowing it could somehow interfere with the case.

Hotch had called me to his office a few times, aware something was going with me. He could read it on my face, I guess. It was scary to know everybody could read my feelings for (Y/N) but her. And it was sad to think of the worst: that she knew how much I loved her, but she didn't feel the same, and she was just being my friend 'cos she was never going to be anything else but my friend.

I drank my tea and hummed the song that sounded in my house at four in the morning: Love is a losing game. Seemed pretty accurate for my mood. I remember the day I got that vinyl. We were out with (Y/N), Frank, and Lu, looking for a present for Mikey's birthday, and we ended up in a record store, getting a million vinyl records for ourselves.

- "Are you getting all those?"- (Y/N) asked me and looked at the seven albums in my hand.

- "Yes, why? I can't?"- I answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "Sassy!"- she giggled and grabbed them- "You can get all the albums you want. But I have to give my approval first. No, you are not getting this!"- she grabbed The Beatles' Revolver and left it aside.

- "What? Why? It's only one I need to complete my collection."

- "I know, but when you get it, you'll force me to listen to it, and I don't like the Beatles,"- she argued, and I just shook my head, taking the album again.

- "Sorry, chipmunk, I'm buying it."

- "Fine. I won't go to your house for the next couple of weeks then."

- "Why don't you tell me which album you wanna listen to when you are in my house then?"- I looked at her, smiling at me and looking for a record on the shelves.

- "This! You need some Amy in your life."

And I did. Now, at four in the morning, all alone walking around, I could see her in my apartment, singing along to her favorite songs while cooking dinner, feeling at home. I wished she was there, with me, doing nothing. Watching tv, or reading. Just hanging out. I knew it wasn't healthy being in love with my friend, seeing her every day, and also hanging out with her every chance I got. But even when I knew she was never going to love me the way I did, I was going to take every chance I had to enjoy her company. If that was all I was going to get.

My phone took me from my thoughts, and I quickly walked to my room to get it. I thought it was Hotch announcing a case, but it was JJ.

- "Hey! JJ, everything ok? Is Henry ok?"

- "Yes, hi Spence. We are all ok."

- "It's four in the morning."

- "Sorry I woke you up... I just..." - she made a pause and sighed at the other side of the line- "Spencer, you know I love you."

- "I love you too. You are one of my best friends. Is everything ok?"

- "Yes, I just wanted to... remember a bunch of years ago, when you asked me to that football game?"

A million years had passed since the one and only time I had asked JJ out. It was the only move I tried to do on her, and I failed incredibly. It was awkward, and she had no idea it was a date, so she invited Garcia to come along. I was so embarrassed I never even mentioned that single event ever again, and our friendship grew after.

- "Yes, I remember, JJ. Why?"

- "When you asked me out, did you have a crush on me?"

- "JJ, are you drunk?"- I had to ask 'cos that conversation was starting to scare me.

- "Yes, but that's not why I'm talking about this. Just answer the questions, Spence. When you asked me out on that date, did you have a crush on me?"

- "Yes, I did."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to face feelings that were far forgotten.

- "You see, I had a crush on you too back then,"- JJ said and chuckled- "But neither of us acted on it, and life continued, and now I'm in love with Will, and we have a baby, and you are his godfather."

Of all the things I thought I would listen to that day, never in a million years, I imagined I would hear JJ drunk telling me she had a crush on me when we first met.

- "Now, do you want that to happen again?"- she asked, and I didn't get it, 'cos I was still trying to process what I had just heard. So I might have had a relationship with her if only I had said something, act on it. Kiss her, ask her out again?

- "What?"

- "Spence. Do you want to miss the chance to be with the girl you like?"

- "No, but JJ, what are you talking about?"

She sighed, frustrated, and used that tone of voice with me, that very maternal specific tone of voice she used to explain things she knew were hard for me to follow.

- "When you like someone, Spence, you have to tell her. 'Cos sometimes, life gets in the way, and if you don't do what you have to do to be happy, no one will do it for you."

- "Are you ok, JJ?"

- "Yes, Spence, I'm ok. I'm home with Will. We just got here after dropping (Y/N) off her place."

- "How was she?"

- "She might have had a few too many drinks, but she'll be ok in the morning. Maybe she'd appreciate it if you brought her coffee and donuts."

- "She doesn't like donuts,"- I corrected her- "She likes cupcakes and brownies."

- "Sorry. Coffee and cupcakes... just tell her you love her, Spence. She deserves to know."

I held my breath and closed my eyes. I didn't get why JJ was telling me that, but I knew I didn't want to talk about it. So I said good night and hung up.

What was the point of telling me we could have been a couple of years had passed already? Why didn't she say a thing before? Or even better, why didn't she ever say a word about it at all? So I missed the chance to be happy with her. Great. One more regret to add to my list.

I laid on my bed and tried to remember that date. I was so nervous that day, my hands shook inside my pockets as I walked to JJ's door. She looked beautiful that day, especially when she looked at me and announced she had invited Penelope to join us.

That was when I realized she would never see me as a proper date, just like a friend. And I learned to make my peace with that over the years. My crush for JJ lasted a few more months, but it vanished when I fell for (Y/N). What if she had never joined the team? Would I have been in love with JJ forever? Jeniffer always made me feel like her little brother, and I guess that's the mechanic that works for us. We were good friends ever since we met, and yes, I had a crush on her, but we work more like siblings than anything else.

What was the point in telling me I had missed a chance with her now? I just couldn't see it.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The next few weeks were us trying to survive without JJ. The team was making the best it could, but it was hard. Penelope took the lead during the second case without JJ. She turned into our tech analyst and communication liaison, only to collapse under the pressure of having two roles.

No one was going to replace JJ. We all knew it. Literally, no one, 'cos Hotch decided he and Garcia were going to split the job, and we were all going to collaborate as much as we could, 'cos we were a team. A family. And that's what families do.

And families were the target of the unsub we were hunting the day everything changed. Again. I hadn't recovered from the departure of JJ when Rossi and Hotch walked to the bullpen and introduced us to Agent Trainee Ashley Seaver.

My nemesis.

- "Agent trainee Seaver"- Rossi smiled at her like a proud father and looked at us as we stood up, wondering who she was- "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss, (Y/L/N), and Morgan."

- "I've heard so much about the three of you,"- she said with the sweetest tone of voice I had ever heard. Something about that felt odd.

- "I hope it is all good- Morgan flirted right away, of course."

- "Very, sir."

- "Anything specific? I mean about me in particular?"- I turned to him and failed in holding back my chuckles.

- "Please, don't encourage him, or he will never stop talking,"- I said, and Derek elbowed me playfully. Seaver smiled at us and even blushed a little bit. She was nervous.

- "Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she is remedial training with an injury."

Hotch announced. And my stomach tightened right away. There was something wrong with that whole scene. I could feel it in my guts. But I didn't know why?

- "Concussion. Hand to hand got a little out of control."- Seaver explained and kept a silly smile on her face.

- "How's the other guy?"- Prentiss asked.

- "Don't ask."

- "I was remediated in the academy also,"- Spencer said, walking over us, and suddenly I understood why I had a bad feeling about everything.

- "Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid."

As soon as I heard Rossi say those words, there was a part of me who just wanted to hold Spencer's hand and push him away from her, even before they could say hi. She looked at him like he was eye candy, and I clenched my knuckles as I stared at the scene.

- "Uhm... What was your issue?"- she asked him, and I could see the pink on her cheek intensifying as he looked at her, confused.

- "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's alley. You know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Seaver stared at him and kept nodding, though I wondered if she was listening to what he had said. Spencer looked exceedingly handsome that day. His hair was very short for the first time in years, and he still had no idea how to comb it, so it was all over the place, making him look as hot as fuck.

I was so in love with him, I didn't know what to do with those feelings at all. It was hard working with Reid at that point. I just wanted to kiss him.

- "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico,"- Aaron announced, and I couldn't help but question him right away.

- "She is?"

- "As a consultant."- he assured me.

- "On?"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hotch, wondering what a trainee agent could help us with as a consultant.

- "She has a unique perspective,"- Rossi tried to explain, but it sounded like bullshit.

- "They don't know?"- Seaver turned to the elderly agents, and they shook their heads.

- "Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to,"- David whispered.

- "Uh... Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp"- Ashley was supposed to explain the circumstances of her consultancy to the whole team, but she just looked at Spencer as she spoke.

- "As in the Redmond ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"- he asked her, and suddenly, it clicked. It was like my whole body was telling me I couldn't be close to her for a reason.

- "That's him,"- she whispered and kept her eyes on my best friend as he continued talking.

- "He killed 25 women over 10 years in rural North Dakota. I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"- and David nodded.

- "Hotch was on that team, too."

- "Based on her life experience, we were hoping that agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful. We have a plane waiting,"- Hotch announced and looked at us, but none of us said a word.

I kept my eyes glued at my feet the whole time Aaron talked. Then, Spencer nodded and walked with Seaver and Rossi out to the hangar. I couldn't even blink. I think I was in shock.

- "Her father was a serial killer?"- Prentiss asked Hotch, not getting what he was thinking.

- "That's definitely a different set of parameters,"- Morgan added. Neither of them was sold on the idea, which made me feel a little bit better.

- "I don't want her presence to get us sidetracked. It's a long shot that she's gonna see anything helpful. We work it like any other case,"- Hotch was clear, and Prentiss and Morgan nodded.

- "You got it."

But I disagreed with that.

- "(Y/N), is everything ok?"- Aaron asked me, and I tried my best to lie and be cool.

- "Yeah, I'm ok."

- "Ok. We work this like any other case. Wheels up in twenty."

But everything was far from being ok.

I sat next to Spencer on the jet, and we reviewed the case files together. Hotch briefed us, and we all pretended it wasn't weird having Seaver there. And I guess we had to pretend it wasn't odd knowing her dad was a serial killer.

- "You are very young, (Y/N),"- she said and smiled at me. She was sitting across from Spencer and me, and you could tell she had been trying to join the conversation for a few minutes now.

-" Twenty eight,"- I answered and looked at the files again.

- "And you, doctor?"

- "You can call me Reid. I'm twenty eight too,"- Spencer cut her a short, awkward, and nervous smile, and I turned to him.

- "Honey, did I leave my Mets jersey at your house?"- it was the only question that came to my mind at that minute. It was completely random, but somehow it showed a part of our dynamic that Ashley didn't know. Our friendship. Our closeness.

- "Yes, I found it last night,"- he answered and sipped his coffee- "I was gonna bring it over, but then I remembered you always borrow all my sweaters when you are home or when you stay over, so I thought maybe it was a good idea to keep it at my place."

- "I don't know, Batsy. It's my favorite sweatshirt- I raised an eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure I even flirted a little bit."

- "So? You need to keep one there."

- "But I like wearing your clothes when we are at your place. It's extra large and extra comfy."

- "Is that why you keep taking my sweaters back to your house?"- he asked and chuckled- "Last Sunday, I found four of my sweaters in your closet."

- "Sorry, I'm not even sorry,"- I said and laughed- "And what were you doing in my closet?"

- "Lucy, Ricky, can we focus on the case?"- Morgan asked and waved at us with one silly grin on his face- "We love hearing your adorable daily adventures, but we've got a psycho killer to catch."

Spencer blushed and flustered right away. I stuck out my tongue at Morgan and just shook my head. The way Seaver looked at Reid was still driving me nuts, but I felt I had shown her he was mine, childishly.

It's embarrassing to think that's not the most childish thing I did around her those days. Or in the weeks to follow. But I didn't like Ashley, and I didn't want her around my team. And it wasn't just her constant flirting with Spencer. It was the fact her father had killed my mother's sister when she was in college, and I was making my best effort to keep that fact aside from work. My personal life had to stay out of the FBI, especially when working a case.

I had to do some serious mental work trying to remember it wasn't Ashley's fault her father was a sick bastard. She hadn't hurt my family, and her father had ruined her life too. It wasn't her fault.

But one thing is knowing. Another thing is being rational about it. Spoiler: I wasn't so rational about it.

- "So, (Y/N). Do you like working at the BAU?"- Ashley asked me and looked at me through the rearview mirror. We were in the SUV, and Prentiss was driving. I was in the back seat, trying to ignore her, but she made it impossible.

- "Yes, very much,"- I answered and nodded, not taking my eyes from the window.

- "Everybody is very friendly,"- Seaver added and made a pause. I don't know if she wanted me to say something or if she was trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say.

- "Yes, they are,"- I humored her, and she quickly responded.

- "Are you and Spencer dating?"- I could feel the blood raising my cheeks as she spoke. And Prentiss flashed me a look through the mirror as Ashley continued talking.

- "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just wondered because of the fraternization policy."

- "Right. Sure. Of course."

Those three words were meant to let Ashley know I wasn't buying her bullshit, So I literally spit them.

- "Spencer is my best friend. We are not dating."

Facing that simple truth had never been harder before, especially after how I saw Ashley's face light up.

- "You just seem to be so close."

- "Oh, they are close,"- Emily smiled at me and winked- "They are so close, they sometimes freak us out."

- "We freak you out?"- I raised an eyebrow and carefully hit her arm, pretending to be upset. But honestly, I was glad she was teasing me.

- "I am just saying, we are all pretty suspicious about you two. I am actually surprised you didn't share rooms tonight. They usually share rooms."- Emily explained to Seaver.

- "He was paired with Morgan,"- I pouted and looked at my phone. I thought maybe I could send him a funny text. I actually wanted to hang out with him.

- "He is very nice,"- Ashley added- "I mean, everybody is nice."

- "Yes, you mentioned it"

I was clearly not being nice. Seaver nodded and looked at the files again. I assumed she was trying to find a way to keep asking about Spencer, and I was making my best not to kill her.

- "Working with a genius must be somehow intimidating,"- she said after a few minutes. Damn it, she wasn't going to let that subject go.

- "It's fun working with Spencer,"- Prentiss said, trying to humor Seaver. And mostly, I guess trying to ease my mood and keep me from killing the trainee agent.

- "I'm sure it is,"- Seaver added. I hated her.

- "He is more than just a genius, he is a nerd."- Emily pointed out and chuckled at her words, making Seaver giggle too. I looked at my book again, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it at all. He was my nerd. Mine.

- "Well, it's very refreshing to be with a group who trusts and works so well together,"- she added- "I had never felt less judged and more welcome in my entire life."

I know I should have felt sorry for her. But I honestly couldn't. That was the day I realized I wasn't the good person I thought I was. There was a part of me that was a scumbag. I'm guessing knowing that is pretty helpful and positive 'cos you can work on your flaws. But I wasn't planning on working on anything at that minute, though. I just wanted to break Seaver's face.

Spencer's point of view

I didn't like working without JJ. I've never been good with change, and that was a massive alteration of our routine. I missed her, and adding Ashley to the team made things even weirder for me, even for a case. I didn't want to be judgemental, but her father was a serial killer. Of course, that would make things weird.

Besides, everybody kept bugging me, teasing me, trying to see if I liked Seaver. Penelope called while we were on the case and started taunting me, saying she knew I thought Ashley was cute. I could see she was beautiful, but I couldn't see her that way. And I didn't want anyone to say those kinds of things around (Y/N).

Why did I care so much?

I didn't want to face it 'cos I knew it was completely platonic, but I didn't want (Y/N) to think I had a crush on Seaver. I knew my best friend didn't have romantic feelings for me, and I also knew I wasn't going to make a move on her or anything. But I didn't want things to change more than they already had. And most of all, I didn't want anything to alter my dynamic with (Y/N).

But at the same time, somehow, it felt everything was already different between us.

- "Hey, honey bunny,"- (Y/N) walked to me and handed me a cup of coffee- "I thought you might need one of these."

- "You are a lifesaver,"- I whispered and sipped the cup. It was perfect.

We were on the jet on our way back home. The whole team was mostly quiet. The mood was weird. Ashley had done something quite reckless earlier and nearly got herself killed. She walked to the unsub's house all alone, not knowing he was our guy. She almost died, and none of us can even imagine what went through her head to do such a thing.

Rossi and Hotch walked to her. (Y/N) looked at me, and I could read on her face that both of us knew what was going to happen.

Ashley was alone when David sat in front of her, and Hotch stood in the middle of the aisle. Maybe that had been insensitive of us. Neither of us tried to contain her. Neither of us really knew her that well. Or at all, as a matter of fact.

- "You were not supposed to go off on your own."- Hotch went straight to the point.

- "I know,"- she whispered, and I could see how (Y/N)'s face changed. I tried to read her, but all I was able to see was... anger? I had to be wronged. She had no reason to be mad at Ashley.

- "You could have been killed,"- Hotch crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her.

- "I know that, too."

- "Why, Ashley? You're smarter than that"- Rossi sounded like a worried father. I didn't look at him 'cos I kept my eyes on (Y/N)'s, still trying to read her emotions. But what I saw made no sense. She really looked like she was angry at Ashley. Like she hated her.

- "I never got to apologize to any of the victims. The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way..."

And that was when (Y/N) snapped. She jumped from her seat and walked to Seaver. Aaron and David looked at her surprised, and Morgan turned to me, taking off his headphones. Neither he nor Prentiss got what was happening until that moment.

- "Ok. Shoot!"- (Y/N) sat right in front of Seaver, next to David, and looked at her. But she didn't get it.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You just said you wanted to apologize to one of the families. So go ahead. Try."

The silence on the jet was so deep and awkward it felt no one was ever going to talk again.

- "I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I don't get what you are implying,"- Ashley's voice was a whisper. I knew she was sad and affected, embarrassed even. But I also knew (Y/N), and I could read it on her face. She wasn't joking.

- "You said you wanted to apologize to the family of one of your dad's victims, so go ahead. Apologize to me."

My first instinct was to stand up, which I did. But I froze and didn't take a step closer to (Y/N) when I noticed the severe and cold look in her eyes. I didn't know what she was talking about. But I knew she wasn't bluffing.

- "Why should I... apologize to you?"- Ashley asked her, and her voice broke at a certain point, probably scared of the answer.

- "Your dad killed my mother's older sister. She was in college,"- (Y/N) spit each word with hate and looked at Ashley, waiting for her reply. But Seaver didn't know what to do. She widened her eyes and stayed still. She barely kept her breathing steady.

- "(Y/N), maybe we should let Seaver rest,"- Hotch landed a hand on her shoulder, but my friend shook her head.

- "No, Hotch. By making that choice, she put everyone at risk,"- (Y/N) didn't take her eyes from Ashley as she spoke- "As far as I remember when you are at the academy, they teach you that in the field, we are responsible to and for your team."

- "(Y/N)... I had no idea..."- Ashley tried to apologize, I could see it, but it was clear she wasn't going to win that argument- "I am so sorry."

- "I don't know, Seaver. Did you think saying "sorry" would make those families feel better? 'Cos it ain't working here. "Sorry" won't make my mom stop feeling guilty about what happened. And, if things had gotten ugly back there, "sorry" wouldn't have made your mistake go away in case anyone would have gotten hurt. So no. Sorry doesn't help. Maybe it can ease your conscience, but when you really fuck it up, it never makes things better."

(Y/N) stood up and walked back to her seat in front of me. I let her pass and didn't say a word. I knew she wouldn't want to talk about it there. And, of course, Seaver didn't say a word. She just stood up and walked to the back of the jet, to the bathroom. Rossi and Hotch looked at each other and then looked at me.

David poured a glass of whiskey and walked to (Y/N) slowly. He didn't say a word, he just handed it to her, and she just took it and sipped it with shaky hands.

- "Thanks,"- she whispered, and Rossi nodded. Hotch raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just walked to his seat and opened a case file.

I moved back to my seat and opened my satchel. I had run out of candies earlier that day, so I didn't have much to give to her that could make her smile. So I picked a book and handed it to her. She took it and smiled at me kindly. I knew she was fighting back the tears, and I am sure she has held back all the emotions than being with the daughter of the man who killed her aunt since she knew who Seaver was. And she managed to do the job well. I was proud of her.

- "Wanna grab something to eat when we reach DC?"- I whispered, but for the first time ever, she shook her head.

- "I'm gonna have to catch a rain check for that dinner. I think I wanna go straight to my bed today, honey."- she sipped her glass again, and I nodded.

- "Don't worry, next time."

I was waiting for the train to go back home later that night when I saw Seaver sitting at a bench at the station, staring at her hands on her lap. I didn't see her leaving the BAU, though to be honest, I was really focused on finishing my paperwork to go home. (Y/N) had left as soon as we reached DC, but I had stayed a little longer.

I hesitated for a few seconds before I took a few steps closer and waved at Seaver. She looked at me surprised, as soon as she saw me, but didn't move. I smiled, trying to look friendly, and sat next to her.

- "Hi. What are you doing here?"- I asked her, and she shrugged.

- "I was going to go home, but I think I sat here half an hour ago and haven't been able to move,"- I turned to her and shook my head.

- "Do you want to eat something?"- after what had happened at the jet, I figured Ashley wasn't feeling so good, and maybe talking with someone could help her. She looked at me and blushed; I don't know why. But at least, she smiled and nodded.

- "Great, pizza?"

- "Pizza sounds good."

We were waiting for our food and making small talk. I kept giving Ashley pizza facts to fill the silence 'cos it was weird hanging out with Ashley. I didn't know her, really. We had worked a case together, but that didn't mean I knew her. And, of course, we had the whole jet incident. I felt a little guilty about what had happened, though it wasn't my fault at all in retrospect. I just felt like it was my job cheering her up a little bit after everything she had gone through.

- "How do you do it?"- she asked me all of a sudden- "How do you deal with the pressure of this job?"

- "You get used to it, I guess. I don't know if it's a good thing to get used to, but... it comes with the job, I think,"- I didn't know if I was doing ok comforting her. Then again, I have never been particularly good at it. Not then, not now.

- "Did you always dream about doing this?"- she asked me, and her eyes locked into mine in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

- "Y... yes. Ever since I was a kid, catching the bad guys,"- Seaver nodded and sipped her coke- "You? Why did you get into the academy?"

I regretted my question right after I asked, just 'cos I realized she might have done it to understand her father's behavior. It was only apparent that had shaped her actions.

- "I guess you know that..."- Ashley answered and smiled, her eyes looking straight into mine. I know I blushed. She is a beautiful woman, though I wasn't thinking about her that way. It was an odd feeling being observed that way.

I was glad our pizza made it to the table, and we were forced to stop talking, and I could focus on anything else but her. Not that I didn't want to look at her, but... I think the right way to explain it is to call it "uneasy." That's how I felt. I wanted to be friendly with her, she had a horrible experience consulting with the team, and I was sure she wasn't really having a good day.

- "This might sound weird, but... do you think I can call you sometime?"- Ashley asked after a few minutes. We were eating and talking about nothing important. I nearly chook at her words and looked at her, nodding.

- "Sure, why?"- I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't know why she might need to talk to me again.

- "I just think maybe you could help me with a few assignments at the academy."

- "Yeah, of course."

Ashley Seaver smiled and nodded at me, pleased. She took a sip of Sprite, and I could read her, trying to find the words to continue speaking.

- "I'm glad. I was sure you were going to say no."

- "Why?"- I furrowed my brows, confused- "I'm not a big fan of phones, but I can handle a casual phone call."

- "No, I just didn't think your girlfriend would like... I mean, I think (Y/N) hates me, and as her boyfriend, I thought you... would... I don't know."

- "I'm, we are... we,"- I was completely flustered as I tried to rearrange my thoughts. Seaver looked at me innocently and waited for my words.

- "(Y/N) isn't my girlfriend"- it bothered me to admit that simple fact. Why? 'Cos it hurt to think we looked like a couple, but we weren't. Why did Seaver think we were together?

- "Really? But..."

- "She is my best friend,"- I explained poorly. She nodded and hesitated before saying what she was thinking. It was obvious she was trying to arrange the words in her head.

- "It's just that you two... sorry, I'm overstepping,"- Ashley blushed and shook her head- "She is... strong."

- "Yes, very."

- "I think I started with the wrong foot with her."

- "Well, I don't mean to justify anything, but if your father hurt,"- I made a pause, trying to find a way to say it that wasn't so painful.

- "Killed. My father killed her aunt,"- she corrected me with a cold and monotonous tone of voice. I just nodded and sipped my water.

- "She is an amazing person,"- I don't know if I was trying to excuse (Y/N)'s earlier behavior or if I just loved her so much I needed to tell people how awesome she was.

- "I'm sure you will pass this,"- I assured her- "Once you get to know her, and she gets to know you."

- "I don't think she will give me that chance. Besides, I was just clear to assist with only one case."

- "If you want to stay, you can request your remedial training be here. And if Hotch approves it, I could talk to (Y/N). I'm sure she will like to know you better."

Why did I say all that? I had no idea.

- "Thank you, Spence. You are really sweet,"- Ashley moved closer and held my hand. I stayed very still, absolutely awkward.

- "Yeah, I don't... like... holding hands,"- I quickly moved it away and tried to smile at her. She stayed still, not understanding my reaction but trying to act normal.

- "Sorry."

- "That's ok. I'm a germaphobe, that's all."

After pizza, we left the place and said goodnight. I told Ashley I was weary (which was, in fact, the truth) and got her a cab to take her home. After that, I walked to my place. I felt like I needed to be alone for a while. My head was overwhelmed, and in the latest couple of weeks, I had severe trouble sleeping.

I had migraines that nearly blinded me. I was scared they meant I could develop the first signs of schizophrenia, like mom, 'cos they were coming more and more often. It wasn't that bad yet, the light didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't have any sign of hallucination, but still, I knew it could be serious.

I tried to think of a reason why I might be having those severe headaches. I was eating correctly, mostly 'cos (Y/N) forced me to eat. No, she didn't force me, but she made sure I had all my meals at work, not just coffee. And usually, at the weekends, we would spend our time together, and she was a fantastic cook. So it wasn't an alimentary issue.

I wasn't sleeping well. That wasn't new, but it was getting serious. I wrote and read a lot at night 'cos I couldn't fall asleep until late. I didn't know why. I just couldn't rest. My body ached, and my brain wouldn't sleep. The only nights I could actually get some rest were the ones when (Y/N) stayed with me. It was a blessing when Hotch paired us to share rooms, 'cos I could easily fall asleep when she was around. Her presence soothed me in a way that I didn't understand. Let me put it this way, I know it might sound cheesy, but the beating of her heart set the rhythm for my own, and at night it would bring me peace.

I reached home that night and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy. (Y/N) wasn't there with me. So I made myself a cup of herbal tea, (Y/N) had a lot of those in my house, and I drank them when I missed her. The smell coming from the cup made me feel like she was close.

How pathetic I had become! But I could only share those thoughts with myself. No one knew I had feelings for her, and I was going to deny it till the end, no matter what had JJ said. I couldn't take that phone call from my mind, and on those sleepless nights, I kept overthinking and overanalyzing everything.

I got into bed with a few books and my cup of herbal tea. I took a look at my cell phone, two new messages.

- "I miss u"

(Y/N) sent, and a warm feeling spread on my chest as I imagined her whispering those words as I read them

- "Breakfast tomorrow before work?"

- "See you at seven-thirty."

I typed and sent it.

What could ever happen if I told her how much in love I am with her? I would lose her, and I'd be alone. She didn't feel that way for me. It was a fact. I was just glad she was my best friend, and I could share everything with her. Was I pathetic? Yes, very, but in a way, it felt it was just all I deserved. Not more, not less. Just being in love with a girl who didn't love me back.

At least she wasn't dating Paul anymore. I hated that guy.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer was waiting for me outside our usual coffee shop, already holding two cups of coffee. His short hair looked dreamy as she smiled and took off his sunglasses. It had to be illegal being that hot. But, seriously, how didn't he get laid? He was fucking dreamy. In the four years we had been best friends, I saw Spencer in many hairstyles, and each of them made him look like a model.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid had been a process I hadn't actually been fully aware of. But I was completely conscious I needed to hide those feelings from him and from everybody at the BAU.

Ok, fine, I had somehow faced part of those feelings in front of my drunk best buddies at Penelope's house, but I never actually confirmed anything. I had just... shared some of my frustrations, I guess.

- "Good morning, honey bunny,"- I smiled and sighed as I stood in front of Spencer, watching him grin back at me and hand me one of the coffee cups.

- "Good morning, chipmunk. Did you get some rest?"

- "Yes, I fell asleep as soon as I reached my bed. I was exhausted."

- "I'm glad you are fully rested."

- "What did you do yesterday?"

- "Nothing,"- he answered quickly and turned around- "I got you a carrot muffin to go."

- "Thank you so much. I'm starving. I didn't even have dinner yesterday."

- "Really?"

- "I told you, I reached home and crawled into my bed."

We walked outside the coffee shop in silence. Spencer bit his donuts, and I ate my muffin. It was nice and calming being with him doing domestic things in life.

I hated how much in love I was with him 'cos I knew I had to shake that feeling away. He was never going to have feelings for me. I was a regular human being, and Spencer Walter Reid was a genius. He deserved better, he was actually never to think about me that way, and I refused to ruin our friendship with those feelings.

- "So, Comic-con is coming. What are we doing this year?"- I asked as I drove us to Quantico.

- "I was thinking we should do something classic,"- he looked at me, nearly beaming on his seat- "We haven't done Star Wars yet."

- "Really?"- I frowned, confused- "All these years? Are you sure?"

- "(Y/N), eidetic memory,"- he argued, and I chuckled- "So, how do you feel about Leia?"

- "Do I have to be Leia 'cos I'm a girl?"- I asked him, and he flustered right away.

- "What? No, you can be whoever you want to be. I was just, it came to my mind... I didn't,"- I giggled and looked at him for a second.

- "I'm messing with you, Batsy. I always wanted to dress as Leia. Surprisingly, I never had. Padme once, it was a mess, but never Leia. Who are you planning to be?"

- "Maybe Luke... or Obi-Wan. Morgan suggested C3PO once."

- "If I'm Leia, you should be Han,"- I don't know why I said that out loud. I thought about it, I pictured it in my head, but I knew I shouldn't have said it. Then why did those words leave my mouth? I don't know.

- "Han Solo... yes... yeah, sure. Of course! We can pick our outfits this weekend."

- "Great! What do you think would look better? Slave Leia or classic all in white Leia?"- Spencer didn't answer. He just sipped his coffee and looked outside the window.

- "You would look good in both,"- his cellphone interrupted our conversations, and I thought it might be a case. But I was so wrong, it hurt.

- "Hello? Oh, hi, Ashley,"- I nearly hit the break as soon as I heard him saying her name, but instead, I turned around and looked at him.

- "Good, yes. On my way to work with (Y/N). Oh, that's good."

I didn't care what she was saying. I just needed to know why that bitch was calling him. I was blind in jealousy, and I was having a hard time hiding it.

- "Really? Emily? That's... that's great. Sure, we'll see you around, gotta go. Bye."

- "What the fuck?"- I swear, I didn't think what I was saying. Those words just slip through my lips straight from my guts. I hated Seaver.

- "That was Ashley."

- "Figured when you said "Hi Ashley." What? Are you best friends with her now?"

- "What? No! No way! She just wanted to say hi... and... She.... asked for my number 'cos she wanted to help her with some of the academy's projects,"- Spencer was so nervous he actually stuttered as he answered my simple question.

- "Of course, she did,"- my voice was bitter and hurt, but most of all, ironic. And I don't know if Spencer didn't want to understand me or actually didn't get the hint, but he just continued talking.

- "She wanted to tell me she requested her remedial training be at the BAU."

- "What?!"- that wasn't subtle. I actually yelled- "I'm gonna have to see her again?"

- "If Hotch approves..."

- "Fuck!! That's awful!!"- I hit the wheel, frustrated.

- "She's not a bad person, (Y/N). Her dad was a murderer, but that doesn't mean..."- I turned to look at Spencer for a second, and he just shut up- "Sorry."

- "I don't like her, Spencer."

- "Yes, I know."

- "Her dad killed my aunt!!"

- "I know..."

- "And on top of that, that bitch is..."

I had to bite my lips and focus on the road, actually holding my breath for a few seconds, just not to open my mouth and ruin it all.

The main reason why I hated Ashley Seaver wasn't just because of what her father had done. That itself was enough to keep her away. But on top of that, she was flirting with Spencer. She wasn't even subtle about it; she was nearly all over him. I saw her! She wanted him, and he had no idea! He was blind to her attention. Unless he liked it. Did he? Shit, I hoped not.

- "She what?"- Spencer whispered, scared of my reaction.

- "She plays the pity card the whole time. Bad things happen to all of us. You don't have to make it who you are, she does, and she expects sympathy."

I grabbed my muffin and took a big bite of it. Spencer sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, giving me space to decompress, I think.

- "Did you know the origins of carrot cake are disputed by many countries?"- I looked at Spencer, and he nodded- "Many food historians believe carrot cake originated from the English recipe of carrot puddings, eaten by Europeans in the Middle Ages when sugar and sweeteners were expensive, and many people used carrots as a substitute for sugar."

- "My mom would fight all those historians and convince them she invented it. Her carrot cake is the best."

- "And I would agree, the cake she baked for your last birthday was amazing."- I nodded and heard him chuckle as I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to focus on the memories of my last birthday and how fun it was, but something was bugging me.

- "And why did she call you to tell you what she wanted to do?"- I parked the car outside the BAU and turned to Spencer. He opened his mouth, but no word came from it. So I asked him again.

- "Honey, why did Seaver call you to announce she would take the remedial training at the BAU?"

- "It... might... had been my idea,"- he whispered and held his satchel tight against his body. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it.

- "Why on earth did you do that, Spencer?!"- I shouted as I got out of the car, grabbed my purse, my clean go bag in case we had a case, and started walking towards the building.

- "It wasn't like a suggestion. She just..."

- "I can't believe it!!"

- "It doesn't have to be that bad! It's just for a few weeks..."

- "Hopefully, Hotch won't accept."

- "(Y/N), come on,"- Spencer held my hand and stopped me- "This is not like you. Yeah, you don't like her, but you are making it a big deal, and it's not."

- "I'm starting to think you are crushed on her,"- I didn't want to say those words. They just slipped.

- "What!? Why? No!! I'm not!"- the high pitch on Spencer's voice was a clear sign of how uncomfortable he was with the conversation.

- "Then why are you defending her?"

- "I am not! I'm just saying maybe you are acting a little bit... irrational about this whole thing. She hasn't done anything bad."

- "Other than jeopardizing the whole case yesterday?"

- "Right, other than that..."

I felt Spencer's hand in mine, and I swear, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt. It kept sending shivers all over my body. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, probably trying to calm me down, and it worked. I followed it with my eyes for a second as I took a few deep breaths and nodded.

- "Ok, I won't make a big deal if she stays."

- "Thank you."

- "Just... don't ask me to be her friend."

- "You don't have to be her friend."

Spencer stood in front of me and smiled. I swear all I could think of was kissing him. And a part of me felt it was getting harder and harder to resist. He put on his sunglasses and kept his hand in mine for a moment until Penelope's voice took us from our little bubble.

- "Good morning, my wonder babies!! Ready to fight crime?"

I actually didn't know what I was getting into.

Hotch had taken the day off. We were around the one-year anniversary of Haley's death, and according to what Rossi explained to us, Jack wasn't feeling so good. It was said it would be just a day or two, but I had the feeling it might be a couple of weeks. Hotch would always put himself second, but he would do whatever it took to keep him safe when it came to his son.

Morgan had been asked to take a trip to Petersburg Federal Correctional Complex to do a risk assessment on a case, so Spencer, Prentiss, and I were in the bullpen. Garcia was in her office, and Rossi was in a meeting with Strauss. I'd say it was a very calm morning, catching up with all the pending paperwork we had. Spencer had just gotten me a cup of coffee when I heard Seaver's cheerful voice.

- "Hi guys!"- she walked in with a big smile and waved- "How are you?"

Spencer looked at me as we all said our hellos. I could almost read "Please, be nice" written all over his face, and for a moment, I was willing to do as told. I didn't want him to suspect why I was so annoyed by her after all.

- "I talked to Hotch"- Emily smiled at Seaver and moved a chair for her- He signed off your remedial training, and I'll be your training agent. I'll supervise your work. I already told Rossi too, so it's official.

Ashley jumped from her chair and hugged Emily. I rolled my eyes and stared at the file on my desk. I really wasn't ready to deal with her. I wasn't prepared to deal with someone trying to steal Spencer from me.

Ok, Spencer wasn't mine to keep, but we had been inseparable for four years, and I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.

I had never been ready to deal with Spencer dating other girls. The few times girls had hit on him had been awful. Once, Morgan took him to a club when we were on a case, 'cos the unsub was picking his victims there, and he taught him how to pick up girls. The bartender ended up giving him her number 'cos my dorky best friend was charming. Derek still remembered that moment from time to time, quoting it as "The day he turned Spencer into a man."

I loved Derek, but fuck, I hated him sometimes.

- "Welcome to the team,"- Spencer waved at Seaver from his desk and turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

- "Yeah, welcome,"- I added and cut her a short smile.

- "I'm thrilled to join you guys for a few weeks. I always dreamt of being here. I'm ready for making it up after the last case."

- "Don't be so hard on yourself,"- Prentiss interrupted her and smiled friendly- "You remained calm under pressure, and the case was solved. That's all that matters."

I had to control myself not to snort after Emily's words. Instead, I kept my eyes locked on my desk like I had done before. I was so focused on it that I could have actually developed telekinesis skills and moved the freaking file with my eyes.

- "I just wanted to say thank you to all of you,"- Seaver's voice was soft, in a mix of fear, excitement, and... something else I couldn't read.

- "Especially you, Spencer. I really enjoyed our talk last night, and I have the feeling I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you for the pizza. I owe you dinner."

- "Don't, it was nothing,"- Spencer flustered and stood up quickly, grabbing his pile of files and walking away, arguing he needed to ask Garcia something.

I did my best not to move a muscle. I didn't want Seaver to know how much I hated the fact she had shared what seemed to be a lovely evening with Spencer. One he didn't actually mention when we talked about what we had done the previous evening. Why did he decide to keep me in the dark? I couldn't understand that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he actually had feelings for Seaver. Maybe he had asked her out, and because he knew I hated her (though he really didn't know why), he decided not to tell me what was going on.

I had been wasting all that time in love with Spencer. I knew I would never act on those feelings, and clearly, he didn't have feelings for me. So... maybe it was time to let him go.

How could I let Spencer Reid go when I never actually had him?

–

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @fandomtrash2405

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: June 16th, 2021

#spencer reid #Criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #diwk #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds re write

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nctsjiho · 4 years

Text

Resolve [Part 2 of ‘Explode’]

Click here for part 1

warnings: none, it’s just a bit longer and the angst of part 1 continues so...

❀ Taeyong decides it’s time for Dream and JiHo to make an end to their fight

JiHo had spent the night over at WayV’s dorm. The chance of seeing Haechan after practise had ended wasn’t one she was willing to take. Johnny had sent Haechan over to the Dream dorm since he wanted the boys to reflect on what they had done and find a way to fix it. He was also slightly agitated and didn’t want to risk yelling at Haechan if he started whining.

A bit after JiHo had left the practise room, the dance instructor came back and had asked where the girl was and why everyone was looking so down. Doyoung had to explain the whole situation which brought the mood down even more. The rest of practise was a nightmare. It felt like it was never going to end. It also made some of the boys realise how JiHo not being there didn’t make much of a difference visually. Realising how JiHo literally wasn’t in any of the unit groups besides the OT24 group dance and some B-tracks which were never going to be performed live. But not having her there did still hurt, it just didn’t feel right.

Mark had checked up on Dream before heading back to his dorm. They all seemed to be coping with the aftermath differently. The unit’s leader wanted to help, but he also knew the boys were old enough to figure it out by themselves. This wasn’t just a small fight and he didn’t want to get too involved.

At WayV’s dorm things weren’t much better. JiHo had found her place in Ten’s bed, the older boy coming to check on her every so often. She didn’t really talk and at a glance she looked like she was going to be just fine, but the next morning she looked horrible. She didn’t get a wink of sleep and Ten knew, but whenever he tried talking to her she just shrugged him off.

They had breakfast together, Lucas and Yangyang trying to cheer her up with some jokes and when she finally smiled for a second the taller one didn’t hesitate to attack her with a hug. “JiHo please talk to us.” He whined burying his head in the crook of her neck. The girl just sighed and continued playing with the food Kun had prepared for her. “Lucas, let her be for a second.” The oldest said patting Lucas on the shoulder. “Please eat something okay? You haven’t touched any of your food yet.” He tried to coax her into eating and she just nodded before taking her first bite.

There were two options: One, have Dream and JiHo fix their problems on their own accord and suffering the possibility that the fight would not be resolved for months. Which would in turn take a toll on their practise and sabotage their comebacks, team work and a lot more for the whole group. Or two, do like they always have. Involve themselves in their problems to try and fix it as a whole group.

As all of NCT gathered in the practise room, Taeyong had made the choice by himself. Mark had noticed someone wasn’t there yet. “Where’s the choreographer?” He asked and everyone started to notice as well. “He’s coming in 2 hours.” Taeyong said walking to the middle of the room. “Why are we here then? I could’ve gotten at least another hour of sleep.” Lucas whined which earned him a slap to the arm from Kun. “Sit down kids, we have some work to do.”

Everyone had gathered around Taeyong in a circle, all clearly confused. He then looked at the Dream members who all looked like they either had been crying for hours last night or if they just rolled out of bed after a horrible night of sleep. He motioned for them to sit in the middle of the circle with a finger. They all hesitantly moved over to where Taeyong pointed. The leader’s gaze than settled on JiHo, who surprisingly looked a lot less dead. Taeyong however knew she wasn’t doing so hot because of the updates he received from WayV ever since she decided to sleep over at their dorm.

Without having to say anything she sat down facing the Dream members, her eyes holding no emotion. “Isn’t this a bit unfair? 6 against 1?” She chuckled sarcastically. Taeyong rolled his eyes. “I think what’s unfair is that the fight between the seven of you is bringing down the whole team. Don’t you agree?” JiHo wasn’t one to raise her voice but the leader’s words just didn’t sit right with her. “Excuse me? You act like I did something wrong. I’m the one who got accused for something I didn’t do! I’m the one who had 6 people screaming at me, acting like I’m the bad guy here! And I saw it in your guys’ eyes yesterday that you were starting to think it was true! I-” She stopped herself when she noticed what she was doing. JiHo had stood up and was yelling at their leader, everyone shocked at the sudden (but not surprising) outburst. “I’m sorry.” She gritted her teeth before sitting down again.

Taeyong had to admit that it was wrong of him to act the way he did. JiHo clearly didn’t do anything wrong, but just because this was now a known fact and the misunderstanding had been cleared up, didn’t mean that the conflict was solved. There was still a lot of tension between the two parties and it wasn’t going to get better if they didn’t address it.

“JiHo we’re sorry-” Renjun started, but Haechan quickly interjected. “It’s all my fault. I just heard you talk to Johnny and heard Jisung’s name and then you started talking about a maknae and I just jumped to conclusions, I shouldn’t have. I should’ve asked, but I was too mad...” JiHo couldn’t make eye contact with any of the boys. Jisung spoke up. “I do trust you JiHo, it’s just that-” “How could you say that if you just believed Haechan anyway? You should’ve asked me first.” It was the first time JiHo’s voice had given in. She sounded so hurt and it made all the members feel horrible. “I know... I didn’t believe Haechan at first, but he also wouldn’t lie to me so I felt conflicted.” It was silent for a bit.

“I just felt like no one was on my side. At least you guys have each other...” The older boys couldn’t watch this anymore, it was such a stupid thing to fight about but the implications were so much more serious. The lack of trust, feeling lonely even while having so many people around. “JiHo, you know I knew the truth.” Johnny spoke up. She didn’t dare to look at him. “We didn’t know that you felt that way.” Jaemin added. “But you just got mad at me without telling me why. Starting to ignore me and look at me like you hated me, and no one said anything. And I know it was so obvious that there was something going on but no one tried bringing it up. You all just waited for someone to explode and for us to start fighting.” JiHo was now talking to the older members. “I- I don’t know, I just felt like I wasn’t part of NCT anymore-” With that Haechan, Jisung and Renjun started bawling their eyes out. The damage they did was even worse than they initially thought. “Don’t say that.” Renjun’s voice hitched. He inhaled deeply after each word as if he forgot how to breath.

The other boys had to do everything they could to hold themselves back from going to comfort the younger members, they still had to talk everything through. Some of them even started crying themselves, wondering how it had gotten so far that one of their members didn’t feel like part of the group anymore.

“It’s almost obvious SM doesn’t want me to be in the group anymore. But I couldn’t help but feel like you guys didn’t want me either after what happened yesterday.” The girl had yet to cry even though she sounded so close to breaking down. She had never cried in front of everyone before, always showing her strongest side.

A quivering call of her name left Jisung’s lips. He called out for his precious noona, asking what he could do to make her forgive him. The room stayed quiet for a while, everyone anticipating JiHo’s answer, but it never came. Haechan looked at her with hopeful eyes, moving closer cautiously before resting his hand on hers situated in her lap. Her breath hitched and her body jerked slightly at the sudden touch, causing everyone else to jump a little as well. “I’m sorry you couldn’t trust me-” She choked on her own mixture of words and tears. Haechan immediately pulled the girl into his chest, stroking the girl’s hair as he desperately rambled to her. “It’s not your fault”, “I’m sorry”, “I should’ve talked to you”, “Please don’t leave us”. The sentences became a jumbled mess between his painful cries.

It had become too much for everyone. They were either fighting back tears or openly crying, excusing themselves from the room. Taeyong looked down at the mess he had made, but when he saw all the Dream members surround JiHo and Haechan to apologise and tell her how she was in fact a member of NCT and nothing was going to change that, that’s when the leader realised it might not have been so bad after all. The girl had finally opened up and though just this moment alone wasn’t going to solve everything, at least they knew how she felt and it was a great starting point.

Jisung had taken JiHo’s hands in his holding them tightly as he apologised through tears. She gulped at seeing the younger boy like this and pried one of her hands out of his grip. This caused Jisung to let out a sob as he looked at the girl with a shocked expression, mind racing again with the thought she was still mad at him. She quickly placed her hand on top of his own, her thumb caressing the top of his wrist. “It’s okay Jisung-ah. I would never talk bad about you okay?” She looked at him with red cheeks and teary eyes, still trying to stay strong. He nodded quickly just staring back at her, still apologising.

An hour had passed with the younger members talking things out a bit more, JiHo still felt hurt by their actions the day prior, but she also understood where they were coming from. Dream really cared for each other so it was nice to see them have each other's backs. Jisung had now glued himself to the girl, following her closely everywhere she went until Taeyong had called her to talk for a second. He had to clarify to the youngest that he meant talking to JiHo in private, which caused him to hesitantly walk away.

“I’m sorry JiHo, I didn’t mean to make it look like you caused the fight. I also didn’t mean things to become so messy and most importantly make you feel like you weren’t part of NCT. I did a horrible job as a leader-” The girl interrupted him with a hug, knocking the air out of his lungs. “I know you didn’t mean it. I should’ve told you how I felt earlier. But everything is going to be fine now. Okay?” Her whisper made him feel so much more calm. “Okay.” He answered placing his arms over her shoulders and pulling her closer.

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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fayeimara · 3 years

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Sakusa Kiyoomi || Quiet Corners of Our World

SUMMARY. A busy Sunday becomes something else entirely when your typically routine-loving boyfriend has some unexpected surprises in store.

PAIRING. You x Sakusa Kiyoomi

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Suggestive

Reader Request Part Two | This is a continuation of the story in Small Moments.

It's a small kiss behind your ear that wakes you up, along with a whispered, "Good morning, love." You turn towards the deep baritone, seeking its owner even though you've barely roused. Sliding one hand forward to squeeze in between the cool pillow and cooler sheets, enhanced by the press of Sakusa's head still lying atop it, your other hand finds his cheek even before you've opened your eyes. When you do briefly flicker them open, it's to meet his amused gaze for just a moment before the bright rays streaming in from your windows compel your lids to flutter shut again. There's an enticing aroma in the air and it's not just your boyfriend's aftershave.

Tilting your head up in a silent plea for his soft lips to meet yours, you hear a low chuckle instead before you feel something light brush the tip of your nose back and forth. A butterfly kiss. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth but quickly turns into a pout when he his teasing tone breaks the silence again.

"I'd like a proper kiss, love, wouldn't you?"

You nod with an assenting hum and it seems he'd anticipated your non-verbal answer because he's already continuing. "Then you'll come brush your teeth, won't you? I have a surprise for my little butterfly."

The words are still soft with temptation and your eyes peek open again, this one longer than your first attempt. This time, when you meet Kiyo's deep gaze, it anchors you to him as you fight off the last hazy remnants of your sleep. If only you didn't feel like you could lay there falling into the dark, mesmerizing pools of his eyes instead.

You're tempted to close your eyes again just to regain your equilibrium but it would be quite futile. That, and you're realizing it's Sunday, which means both you and Sakusa have your respective engagements for the day. Your mind wanders back to the previous day, an improvised but perfect lazy date indoors, which already seems so far from reach.

What if the two of you canceled your plans to pursue a whole, lazy weekend? Would the world stop turning? You smirk, tempted to be a little bad and see if you can convince Kiyo to join your sudden scheme.

"What's that little smile about, sweetheart?" You startle, realizing your thoughts have wandered while he continued to study you, holding your unfocused gaze. He has his own little smirk on his face, as though he's actually able to peer right through your eyes and view your most intimate daydreams.

A blush works its way onto your cheeks, you can feel the warmth even if you can't see it but you're definitely aware of his eyes tracking every miniscule change with that beguiling smile still curving his lips. You pretend to stretch out in order to hide your clearly telling expression, hoping to compose yourself again quickly. With your arms hovering over your face you miss his movement, only feeling the slightest shift before his fingers caress the now exposed skin at your stomach and waist.

"Kiyo!" You're jackknifing so fast in order to jump out of the bed as you reach for his wrist to pull his arm away but he's not done with flustering you when you're in your sleepy state because his other arm catches you mid lunge and you're drawn back against his hard body before you can even register that you're trapped.

Kiyoomi's long legs stretch out alongside yours, shepherding them with light pressure so that he can form a cage around you, finally complete when the hand with the wandering fingers enters your line of sight before dropping to your shoulder. Arms criss-crossed around you, one across your waist and the other crossing that space just below your collarbone, he finally leans in with a brush of his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, "Didn't you want to stay in bed longer? Isn't that what you were just thinking... How you might convince me to stay?"

Even as your stomach flips at his seductive tenor, your face burns as you're caught at your own game before you could even begin to truly consider it. What a dangerously perceptive man you've chosen to call your own. And how like him to torment you when you're caught unaware. He had better be prepared for some payback. Much later.

"Ah..no."

"No?"

"No." You shrug as much as you can in his hold, thankful you're at least facing away as you boldly lie, "I was... thinking about you brushing my teeth."

You might have actually thrown him for a loop as he pauses and then, his flirtatious game forgotten, warily repeats, "Me brushing your teeth?"

Oh no. You can't laugh. But it's difficult as you can quite literally imagine the exact look of distaste on his face at this very moment. He might end up thinking it's an amusing or even cute concept some day but this reaction is pretty typical when he processes new actions that go against his natural instincts. Exactly why you chose this very visual.

"Mhm. You withheld my rightful kisses because you wanted me to brush my teeth first, didn't you?" Okay, so maybe there's a little payback for him sooner than you'd planned. Three birds, one stone. What a feat.

"So... you think I want to brush them for you...?" He trails off, completely unsure where you're going with this.

You shake your head, tone quite glib when you elaborate on your lie, "Not quite. I just imagined you might force me, like a bad puppy or something you apparently think you can order around. That why I was smiling. The imagery and all."

"You were smirking." He corrects with authoritative tone completely ignoring your subtle admonishment. Is that humour seeping back in, as well? "But if you want me to treat you like a pet..."

You jerk forward again, trying to slip his hold as he manipulates the conversation to regain the upper hand. This isn't where the conversation was supposed to flow.

"Not a pet, Kiyoomi."

"Really? If you like that stuff, I guess I can give it a tr-"

"It was a joke!"

"You sure, pet?" His amusement is back full force and you have to roll your eyes at your now failed attempt to regain your composure because, well, maybe you walked into that one by being impulsive.

"It was actually a lie, wasn't it?"

You stay silent, debating if it's better to just refuse to talk until you're completely awake with a cup or two of coffee to fortify yourself from your boyfriend's unexpectedly bold banter today. It seems like Sakusa is in a playful mood but you have no idea why, given that you each will be going separate ways for your respective commitments in less than two hours.

You find yourself suddenly lifted up in his arms, as he effortlessly carries you off the bed before swinging you up like a ragdoll, in a maneuver that ends with his arms cradling you bridal style as he walks you both to the adjoining bathroom. Now you're actually speechless, without deliberate intention, as you find yourself staring up at the elegant lines of his face, hands having wildly grabbed his shirt at the chest and behind his neck when he moved.

His dark eyes are filled with mirth as they connect with yours, "Your silence is incriminating, love. I may just have to follow through with your request in retaliation for ever uttering such a suggestion."

"I didn't ask-" You start of indignant but end up cutting yourself off as a thought occurs to you, "Wait. Do you actually like the idea?"

His eyes narrow down at you, face falling into his classic inconvenienced expression as if you've somehow disrupted his rhythm. Isn't it the other way around? Hey, you should be the one giving him that look!

"Of course not." His voice is clipped and slightly unconvincing.

When he finally sets you down on your feet, you lean on the counter to watch him as he reaches for your toothbrush, neatly squeezing out the perfect amount of paste on its bristles before letting it swing quickly under a soft, brief stream from the tap.

It's when he turns back to you, holding it up holding the instrument up to your mouth and going, "Say ahhh." as if trying to feed a toddler, that you realize he's actually going to try to brush your teeth. You suppose neither of you have been good at backing down from the others' challenge and it's placed you in odder scenarios than this. A giggle spills from your lips at how silly this one is and it's his small answering smile, with a mix of self-deprecation and good humour, that prompts you to obediently follow his instructions.

It's... intimate, to say the least. He's very methodical, probably too gentle, as he makes sure to count out the strokes at each and every side. You find yourself with rare minutes of being able to study him completely unfettered, starting with the tiny dent between his brows from the intense concentration to his task at hand. The way his head tilts and mouth purses between instructions to you is quite endearing.

But as his eyes wander up to yours, the bristles begin to tickle your gums, as if he's applying exactly the wrong amount of pressure, enough to make it unbearable so you're pulling your toothbrush from his fingers to finish the job with ingrained, thorough efficiency.

You notice he doesn't move for his own brush, watching you instead with a silly smile that no one else would believe Sakusa Kiyoomi could produce. When you finish, mouth clean and minty fresh, he leans down to present another butterfly kiss but this time you finally feel the soft melt of his lips onto yours before he pulls away again. Hm.. he's already brushed his teeth before you woke?

You can't help but tease, "So that's it, huh? I suppose my kisses were denied on account of morning breath."

"Not quite." He mimics your own words from just earlier and it has you arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"Mhm.. convenient timing to receive my first kiss of the day, then."

"Love, I would kiss you any time of day or night. There's nothing about you that could push me away."

The absolute certainty with which he says that makes it feel like your heart could beat its way out of your chest just to go claim its space in the undeniable warmth of his.

But.. "Then why use it as a bribe?"

Instead of answering, Kiyo curls his fingers around yours to draw you back into the bedroom as he throws over his shoulder, "It's probably cool by now, so it might be a little late but..."

And with a little gesture, he reveals the source of the heady aroma that you couldn't place earlier, the savoury scents of grilled fish, rice, and miso soup permeating your room, scents which now feel quite familiar and easily placed once you see the prepared breakfast tray perched on his side table.

"Oh Kiyo.. breakfast in bed?"

"We missed it yesterday and I was up early so I wanted to surprise you." He sounds a little disheartened but you've never been one to shirk food even if it's not piping hot.

It couldn't have been sitting too long either, it hasn't been more than ten minutes since he tried to wake you, maybe fifteen. You move back to the bed, careful to fold the soft down duvet to the lower half of the bed. It's a pretty big step for him to bring such spillable and worse, stainable, meals into your room, let alone on the bed.

You look him over carefully but truly can't find a single tell that it's bothering him, so you accept your tray gracefully, seating it on the bed between you both as you notice two pairs of chopsticks. A shared breakfast in bed. While he's long since gotten over his aversion of sharing food, at least with you, it's definitely a monumental milestone and an incredibly romantic gesture in his special way.

It's over this new shared moment that you're tucking away in your memories, that Sakusa give you his biggest surprise yet.

"I've canceled our plans for today." "You ca- our- what?" You're at a loss for words, wondering what's prompted these sudden impulses in your typically steadfast boyfriend.

"I've canceled out plans for today and made us new ones."

You're speechless again, in the calm face of Sakusa Kiyoomi, who has managed to spend the little time you've been awake completely blindsiding you with new experiences and developments. Why is he pushing himself so?

"Baby-"

"Love. Don't question it. Just follow my lead, yes?" His question is so openly trusting, as if the only answer you can give is an affirmative yes, that it takes your breath away. This man..

"...yes."

The first place Sakusa takes you on what you've now realized is a second attempt at your much anticipated but canceled date from yesterday is far more extravagant than the simple park picnic you'd planned. The two of you spent about an hour's car ride before finally arriving at your destination - the breathtaking botanical gardens you're now strolling through.

It's everything you imagined and more, having never had the chance to visit previously, and it's the perfect time to see almost all the flowers at their very peak, in full, resplendent bloom. The air is heavy with the natural fragrance of the vast gardens, the scents tantalizing without becoming overwhelming, possibly due to the natural paths that divert from extremely aromatic sections at just the right pace and lead into refreshing contrast of scents as you weave through each of the different environmental hotspots.

Even Kiyo has his mask tucked down under his chin, the clean air and lack of crowds enabling an easy freedom from his usual concerns. You trail through most of the flower gardens in the southeast portion up to the northeast corner of the sprawling land before spying a maze of many tangled trees, all twisting and twining together in various formations.

As you approach, letting go of your boyfriend's hand to pull slightly ahead, you realize it's actually been cultured to grow as a real, living maze. There are arched entrances made from the same twisting bark, strands about the size of your wrist or smaller twining to cover more surface area in specific spots. You duck through one of the entrances to explore, marvelling at being able to hear Kiyoomi so clearly as he calls to you in exasperation to wait for him.

You don't intend to, of course, because you're delighted to discover this little marvel and that excitement only heightens your urge to tease and play with him a little. You're certain he's picked up his pace, hot on your trail as you duck through many different types of 'doorways' and 'windows', sacrificing your sense of direction to barely keep ahead.

He remains mostly quiet, calling your name softly every now and then, but you're undeniably attuned to his fall of his steps and continue to choose the direction that will take you most opposite him so as to avoid sudden junctions where the gnarled maze might allow him to cross your path in his pursuit.

As the sounds of nature start to dull around you, as if soaking into the depths of the maze, you realize that you too have already traversed further than you intended. It becomes more difficult to identify Kiyo's steps around you, lush grass growing steadily the farther in you seem to progress, even the curled branches seem to soften but you soon catch on to the reason why.

Soft buds are now visible and as you go deeper still, you encounter their full blooms, sprouting in a light pink blush. The path is more linear now, with almost no more forks or diversions to choose from, and before you realize it, you've arrived at the center of the maze. Directly in front, at its very heart, stands an elegant marble gazebo adorned with the same pink flowers yet with a complimentary mix of pale white and even dark red flowers threaded through, their striking petals peeking out as if from behind a latticed shield.

You've stopped entirely, taking a deep breath in as your eyes land first on the layered fountain, also gleaming marble, beyond the gazebo and then quickly shift to what's in between the two structures. Two wrought iron benches sit facing each other so that one only has to turn their head to each side to admire a different view and on one of the benches is what seems to be an abandoned picnic basket. Between the two benches sits a pastel picnic blanket, spread out with more than enough room for two.

You feel Sakusa's quiet presence behind you a second before his arm loops your waist and his smug whisper reaches your ear, "Caught you, little butterfly."

Your mouth drops open as you realized how deftly and thoroughly you were enticed into and maneuvered through this seemingly random maze. He really does know you too well, this beautiful man.

"You planned this?"

"You wanted a picnic, didn't you, love?" You don't have to see that small, satisfied smile of his to hear it in his tone. He's practically glowing with the success of achieving his goal.

You suppose, since you had to cancel the reservation at that special restaurant yesterday, he might have felt compelled to make it up in some way. At this point, however, everything starts to overwhelm you and the light sting at your eyes warns you that one of your rare, emotional moments might just intrude on this small moment.

It's Sakusa, grasping your chin to turn and tilt your face up to his, who answers your unspoken question, the one you need answered.

"Not a single moment for this day was planned from guilt. I just.. wanted to make you as happy as you make me."

"But Kiyo.. are you happy?"

He pauses as if to contemplate his current state but when he answers, he's clear and unhesitant, "I'm so incredibly happy, love. I get you all to myself in our own little corner of the world."

There's something about his words that sparks a memory of a thought you had yesterday, when you made what could have been considered sacrifices for him but was really an incredible, restful day you thoroughly enjoyed yourself from the very moment you'd committed to it. Fair enough then, you trust Sakusa to be unfailingly honest with you and can do nothing more than accept his genuine words. It would be a waste of his careful, meticulous plans to let any doubt ruin the day.

He leads you forward through the beautiful gazebo, moving slowly so you can admire the dedication that has gone into cultivating such a striking space, before helping you down onto the blanket. Once he retrieves the basket sitting idly by on the bench, because it was not in fact an abandoned item but a planned one, he rejoins you on the blanket so that you can examine the contents as you help him lay out the spread.

Incredible, he's somehow got your favourite food and drinks together, from substantial meals for you both, to delicious dessert, and even the drinks have remained chilled in the heat of a midsummer afternoon peak.

Hm.. "How exactly did this get here? You were with me the entire hour it took us to make our way up here and I would definitely have noticed you carrying this."

"I had some help."

"Not going to elaborate?" You give him your most pleading look, you actually think you have an idea but your curiosity is more focused on confirming your guess between several most likely possibilities.

But he just smiles and it's almost maddening when he replies, "No. I'd rather talk about what portions of the gardens you still want to visit. I definitely don't want to rush you but I was hoping to leave before it gets completely dark out."

"That's about three hours, right? "

"Yes, love."

You consider what you know of the gardens for a moment and then with certainty, you answer, "There are only two spots I'd like to see before dark. The butterfly garden and the pools, the ones they say make you feel like you're on some other, magical world."

"That's perfect," Sakusa reviews his mental map of the gardens, "They're both on our way through the loop that'll take us completely through the rest of the gardens. It shouldn't take us more than maybe an hour and a half to finish our tour here once we're done lunch."

You hesitate, something on your mind from his earlier statement about leaving before it's too dark, but decide to say, "There's also a whole section fitted with beautiful lights that turn with the sunset, it's been described to be mystical, like finding fairies playing in the gardens..."

"We'll be able to enjoy that on the way out, love, I've already checked."

"Oh." You pause for a moment in both surprise and appreciation, "You're just so well prepared today, aren't you?"

He arches an eyebrow with indignation, "When am I not?"

"Hm," you let out a chuckle at his expression before clarifying, "I mean, with the finer details of the date, Kiyo. You usually leave that to me?"

"Are you disappointed so far?"

"I'm as far from disappointed as I can be, baby." Without knowing, you answer Sakusa with a smile he's seen countless times today.

It's a stunning one but that's not what's so special about it - it's the very smile he loves to see adorn your face, this expression of complete joy and abandonment. A testament to your free spirit thriving even anchored to his grounded beast, the two of having met in the middle to ruin each other in the best way possible.

The remainder of the afternoon flutters by as you and Kiyo finish your meal before following the plan of action you discussed. The butterfly conservatory and oasis of pools are as breathtaking as expected, creating a multitude of small, precious moments for your memories. The fairy lights quite literally seem to be out of this world, almost as if you've been transported into a beautiful fantasy that's really just another perfect little corner of your shared world.

When you finish up at the gardens with the sun having set, you find out that Sakusa has yet another surprise in store for the day as you both first head home to change into semi-formal outfits. He looks decadent in his black silk button up and you finally get to wear the stunning cocktail dress he gifted to you on your last birthday.

You're moved to tears for the second time that day when you realize where he's taking you for dinner, the very restaurant you had to cancel the reservation for the day before. The same restaurant you both shared your very first date together, back when it was still a little known but elegant spot, long before becoming as popular as it today.

It's there, as you sit on the towering balcony, so unnervingly close to the skies and under a carpet of twinkling stars that you feel you could almost reach out and brush, that Sakusa finds his breath becoming shorter and hands shiver with nerves, as one slips into the pocket of his slacks to brush against the small velvet box that he's carried with him since your third month together.

There have been many small, perfect moments today, ones where his hand slipped in and out of his pocket as he debated if it was the right moment. This weekend has been an unexpected whirlwind of worthwhile compromises but the best example of why he knew, that very day he was drawn to step into the jewelry store, that there would never be anyone else he wanted by his side more than you.

It's at this small moment, in this quiet corner of his world with you, that your eyes meet his with your brilliant, perfect smile painting your lips, and Sakusa's hands suddenly still. His breath evens out, certainty calming his thoughts as his answering smile curves at his mouth. There's no doubt that with you, every moment is exactly the right moment.

A/N: Surprise! It's your date with Sakusa (adorably planned by Sakusa) <3 :D This is partially why completing your request took a little longer - I'm honestly so happy to be able to explore writing a request (so excited that I made it two oop-) and as I've mentioned by now, you were my first lol so I really wanted to make sure it was commemorated with something special. Also, how could I give you only just one or the other with the love of your life? He's literally perfect and has a piece of my heart too so once I thought about how to fulfill your request and landed on the first part, the second just kind of bloomed from it. An expected date turning into a lazy day and now a day that begins lazy but is really the most thoughtful of surprise date days planned by the man who treasures your love... I really hope this was along the lines of what you were looking for and that you enjoyed reading <3

Vibe. Oh, and in case you're curious, I had Daydream in Blue by I Monster on repeat for these :)

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lubdubsworld · 4 years

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Falling for you ( Falling from grace)

Read Chapter 1 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter 2

I woke up to a pounding headache and seventeen missed calls from one Jeon Jungkook. Glaring at my innocent phone I contemplated just going back to bed and calling in sick. But I couldn’t. As Hobi oppa’s assistant in the HR department, I had a shit-ton of work to do on any normal day and if I skipped work today, I would just be screwing myself over for tomorrow.

As fate would have it Jungkook and I worked in the same company. Although work was a very generous word for what he did there , which was basically foist his entire workload on his poor besotted secretary who was too head over heels in love with him to realize that the bastard was taking advantage of her. The girl was young, probably twenty one or twenty and like an eager to please, easily excited chihuahua puppy.

But Jungkook’s designation in the company was nothing to scoff at : He was the HOD of the creative design department and I knew that the fucker was just unfairly good at digital art. it’s hard to imagine a brute like Jungkook with a Tablet , drawing easy strokes of visually appealing masterpieces but that was literally what he did, during the three days a week that he spent at the office. But although he was good at it, he was mostly only there because his dad had threatened to cut him off if he didn’t show up at least thrice a week.

The remaining four days though, that was the interesting part.

Jungkook was a boxer.

A professional street fighter , to be exact and he absolutely pulverized his opponents in the fighting ring. Affectionately called the golden maknae, because he was literally the youngest there and so far he had always won gold in nearly every fight he took part in.

I didn’t really talk to Jungkook in the office and no one knew about us. But this was less by design and more because our paths didn’t cross.

But I had a feeling that today would be different. Jungkook was pissed last night. I wouldn’t put it past him to show up at my cubicle and make a huge scene. And well, seeing as his dad owned the damn company I was pretty sure , he wouldn’t be the one getting fired if that were to happen.

So I called Hoseok up just to be sure.

“He’s not coming in today is he?” I whined, desperately , voice a little muffled around my toothbrush.

“I have no idea, Areum.... The guy doesn’t have me on speed dial...”

I groaned.

I would just have to roll the dice, it seemed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You little bitch.” Jungkook’s voice, right next to my ear, was so unexpected that I sloshed the scalding hot water from the coffee pot all over my arm.

“Fuck... Jeez, give a girl some warning will , you?” I hissed, grabbing a wad of napkins to soak up the mess on my arm and the counter. Before I could fully finish, he gripped my elbow and yanked hard, swinging me around so fast, I lost my footing, crashing into his chest.

I stared up at him, furious.

He was dressed in a fucking suit. I took in the broad , broad shoulders encased in a slightly sparkly black suit, the drool-worthy pecs straining against the fitted black shirt and the perfect knot of his tie and felt my mouth water.

But it was the hair that did it for me. Gelled but un-styled, his long hair was a mess, falling into his eyes and he looked so much like a beast that had been forced to look civilized.

“What the fuck do you want?” I hissed, annoyed and just a little aroused. Could someone’s fucking face be a kink? Like looking at Jungkook should not be a turn on, right? Where was the justice?

His hand snapped up , wrapping around my jaw with enough force to bruise and I felt my eyes widen in disbelief. I gripped his wrist, clawing at it trying to get him off but he grabbed both my wrists together with his free hand, squeezing till i winced.

I closed my eyes when he bent low, teeth closing over my lower lip and biting down hard enough to hurt.

“Please..” I whispered, terrified because the break room door was open. Anyone could walk in and i’d be forced to file a sexual harassment charge against myself.

“You think its fucking funny. playing with my brother’s heart?”

My pulse sped up at that.

“I wasn’t..... What do you mean, heart?” I stared at him, genuinely scared.

“You know he fucking likes you, Areum.... He asked you out for dinner.... You think its fair, making him think he has a chance just because you want to be a petty little , whining bitch?”

Regret pulsed inside me, my throat going dry in genuine guilt.

“I didn’t mean-” The fingers around my jaw tightened and this time the pain was enough to make my eyes water.

“ I think, this thing between us needs to end. I don’t think you’re nearly a good enough lay for me to risk hurting my family.” He said softly and I felt my anger rise.

“Good. Let’s end things then. You think I can’t find someone else to fuck?” I challenged him and he smiled.

“Oh, baby I know you can find any number of dicks to take that slutty pussy for a ride but the question is , do any of those men actually know how to fuck you right?”

I stayed quiet because he was right. I’d had enough bed partners to know that no one, no one came even close to Jungkook. He had probably wrung out more orgasms from me in a single week than all the other men in my life combined. The idea of not having him in my bed was..... terrible. We had gone through this before, some petty ass fight leading to us refusing to touch each other and I had only lasted five days before having a mental breakdown from sheer horniness. Granted he had been the one to cave in on day 6 but still, it wasn’t an experience I wanted to relive.

I stared at his gorgeous face and swallowed my dignity.

“Fine... “ I gritted out. “ I’m sorry.” The last came out as a whisper, my pride refusing to let me say it any louder.

His fingers slipped down to tilt my chin up.

“Didn’t catch that, dollface.....” He was smirking now.

I stared at him.

“I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have played with your brother you’re right. But you shouldn’t have handcuffed me to the fucking bed...”

Jungkook hummed.

“Still with the passing blame.... I’m not certain you’re nearly sorry enough. Maybe us taking a break is a good idea and-”

I reached out and clutched the lapels of his suit jacket pressing a desperate kiss to his mouth to cut him off.

“No... Stop it.. I... I’m not faking it, okay? I did feel like shit after sleeping with him, its true and you’re right... he didn’t... he didn’t make me feel as good as you usually do. It’s true. Just... I’m sorry.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed , his pupils dilating and I gulped.

“Not here.” I said sternly, knowing exactly what he was thinking and his arm came around me, hands dripping down to grip my ass, lifting me up till I was pressed right up against his crotch. He rolled his hips into mine and I felt the hardness of his erection as it pressed into my center.

His eyes narrowed in annoyance, like I was being unreasonable by refusing to fuck him in the very public break room in his dad’s company on a monday morning.

“So where? And it better be someplace we can get to in the next two minutes because I’m gonna stick my cock in your mouth in two minutes, regardless of where we are.” He said quietly , reaching up to hook his thumb into my mouth till my lips parted, and then pushing his fore and middle finger inside.

Fuck.

#Jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts fanfics #bts #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts fanfic

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andraaste · 3 years

Text

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 13

Thing promised, thing due ! It’s not your daily maana but chapter 13 of I am not your enemy which is available !

Happy reading 😉

(there's a joke that unfortunately doesn't work in English, don't be too mad on this handsome vampire please)

Chapter 13 : You always trusted him

Realizing immediately that something was wrong, the dragon eyed me worriedly, totally hypnotizing me with his icy gaze. My heart raced far more than it should at the feel of his fingers on my skin and his scent against me, the images from last night starting to loop in my head as the vampire's words still made my throat tight.

Feeling unable to answer for the moment, I quickly walked around his large stature that blocked me in order to enter the room, divided between several contradictory emotions.

That night I had let Lance see me fully and it terrified me. I wasn't just talking about my nudity. He had seen my wounds, my limits, my deepest fears, and despite the shame it caused in me, I let him do it, urging him to enter my head, my heart. Meeting him here made my hands sweaty, I didn't know how to react. I felt both euphoric and anxious to find myself in his presence. Besides, my exchange with Nevra had once again proved disastrous, which made my stomach bitter.

I definitely didn't know how to react.

Trying to ignore the footsteps that followed mine, I made my way with some haste to the back of the forge. Once in front of the weapon wall, I raised my hand to grab a sword haphazardly, except I didn't even have time to wrap my fingers around its pommel as a tanned hand grabbed mine. Like last time, I found myself trapped between Lance's body and the shelves in front of me.

- You know that it’s not because you are part of the Obsidian that you can take a weapon without authorization ? he said close to my ear.

The sudden hoarse tone of his voice made me shiver. I was aware of his every gesture, of his every breath that lifted his chest against my shoulders. He knew perfectly well where not to touch me on the level of the back so as not to hurt me and that troubled me.

- What's more, this one is way too dangerous for you.

His palm gently pulled mine away from the handle, slowly dropping our arms together along my side. He didn't let go of me though. I took a deep breath in an attempt to ignore his touch.

- Is there anything I can take here ? I tried then, injecting as much confidence and humor as possible into my intonation.

- So, you plan to train on your own and with a real blade ?

His tone, bordering on condescending, irritated me instantly. Damn, I needed to externalize everything that was swarming inside me, what the hell was he not getting in there ?

- I especially need to let off steam for a moment, do I still have the right or you will also prevent me ?

Anger, which began to grip my heart again like a vice, suddenly made a source of heat rise in the palm of my hands. It didn't take long for the dragon to realize this and suddenly squeezed me much tighter, locking my fingers against each other.

- Andraste, calm down. Now is not the time to do that here and you know it just as well as I do.

- If you let me get out of here with what I came to get, I will indeed have plenty of time to go and calm down elsewhere. Except that in the meantime, you're hurting me, Lance.

Visibly surprised by my last words, he eased the pressure on my knuckles, relieving me somewhat even though he still hugged me tightly.

- Make your light disappear and I'll let go, he chided me.

More annoyed than before crossing him, I clenched and clenched my fists to order my powers to dissipate, which didn't work as much as I wanted. Several pairs of eyes began to rest on us without discretion.

- I would like, but I must say that your touch doesn’t help me, I say defensively.

My Chief of Guard slowly unrolled his fingers from my skin, finally letting me move my wrist as I heard it. Closing my eyes for a moment, I instinctively visualized the path of my energy along my flesh, causing it to flow back to my epicenter, level with my stomach. With amazement, I discovered as I opened my eyelids that no trace of magic left my palms.

Lance pulled away from me to give me a questioning look.

- Since when do you know how to do that ? he asked me, an eyebrow raised.

- It was a first, I said with a shrug, as I myself was shocked at the outcome of my attempt. You see, I am good. So I’ve the right to train a little.

- You are incorrigible... but you’ll have to show me that in more detail.

A proud smile dawned on my lips as he blew loudly, letting out air so cold that I saw ice crystals crystallize on a blade close to him.

- Well, I think we both know how it ends when I show you things "in more detail"... is that really a good idea ? I asked him lower, almost timidly.

He looked at me for a long time, much calmer and more serene than a moment earlier. The atmosphere had changed. More intimate, more personal. As if, in this noisy and bustling room, we were suddenly alone.

- If you want us to stop our private interviews, I will comply without objection. This is your choice, not mine. But we know very well that what happened that night has nothing to do with it and that it would have ended up happening at one point or another.

The dragon approached me dangerously, a smirk so similar to that of the Ashkore era that it disturbed me.

- Know that it wasn’t the first time that I wanted to kiss your cute little mouth, he confided to me with a certain childish malice. And then, as you have already said so well, it is you who threw yourself on me. If you don't want this to happen again, just say it and for my part, I'll be able to stay perfectly docile.

I was obsessed with his words, with what they implied. Any relationship between us could only be unhealthy, totally abject. But then, why did I no longer know what I wanted or not ? Logic would have wanted us to stick to what was decently expected of us. Anger, contempt, that should have been our only fuel.

- What if that's not what I want ? I whispered so low that I was afraid he hadn't heard it. What if, for once, I had the right to listen to myself and not give a damn about the convenience of our relationships ?

Lance had never looked at me so deeply, which made me blush with stress at what I argued. Deep down, I knew the young man had fully understood what I was talking about.

- That night, when I dreamed that I was falling from the cliff... it wasn’t the first time that I had this dream. Before I fell, I still see the draflayels flying around me, but not only. I have the impression of constantly remembering that moment in Memoria, that moment when it was just you and me, I concluded hesitantly.

Never did he cut my tirade, realizing every piece of information I offered him.

- So, is that a good idea ? Probably not, no, I answered my own question a moment earlier. But I want to and for once, I want to have the right to listen to myself.

A new smile, this time much sweeter, appeared on his face before he spoke again.

- Your wishes are orders, my angel. On the other hand, only these, so do me the pleasure of getting you away from this wall of swords once and for all. Don't forget who's in charge here, he winked at me.

Lance pushed me towards the exit, I had obviously lost the battle for my weapon for a long time. Stopping in front of the exit door, the dragon seemed to hesitate for a moment, pulling one of its locks of hair back.

- I have obligations tonight, but I'll come see you tomorrow night in your room, if you want.

Without another ounce of ceremony, he turned on his heel and left me on the doorstep.

After literally being kicked out of the forge, I wandered aimlessly through the HQ gardens. I realized a little more every day that besides Lance, I didn't really have any relationships that I felt like myself anymore. When he wasn't there, I often walked in circles, desperately trying to find a way to make myself useful despite my poor physical condition.

No longer able to bear to see the same landscape, I decided to leave the enclosure of these walls that I knew only too well.

My steps guided me in the direction of the burrow, a place that had definitely changed in recent years. A tree with a bent shape had grown just above the crevice, which provided a corner of considerable shade in the great plain. I decided to lie there for a moment, enjoying the calm that reigned around me. Surprisingly, my back was not as painful as I would have thought, the cream of Eweleïn probably having something to do with it.

Stretched out at full length, I watched the clouds move with the light wind blowing between the branches above me. Raising a hand above my face, I lazily imagined my energy flowing through my veins to the muscles of my palm, my fingers. Several fine and luminous lines then began to run over my skin, creating a labyrinthine path on every inch that covered me. I felt good. Soothed, even.

Looking up at the blue sky, I thought I felt something brush against my whole when my eyes rested on a cloud of singular shape. My heart warmed when, in that white and vaporous cotton, I recognized the features of a fire dragon. I might not have been as lonely as I thought. A weary smile appeared on my lips, it was as if his aura had wrapped around my heart.

I knew now that he was watching over me.

- You always trusted him... I whispered. Valkyon, are you relieved of what you find in my heart ?

A new breeze lifted my hair, as if to answer my question. Savoring this moment, I closed my eyelids for a few minutes.

A hand was shaking my shoulder more and more vigorously when I finally came to reality. Slowly opening my eyelids, it took me a while to emerge from my heavy sleep. A scarred gaze plunged into mine.

But what was he doing there ?

- Did you sleep well, Steeping Beauty ?

I couldn't help but giggle at my interlocutor's attempt to quote a tale from my world.

- It's Sleeping Beauty, Nevra.

A wonderfully soft smile appeared on his usually closed face.

- You really have some odd-named stories, that's all I can remember, he said with a weak laugh.

I awkwardly straightened up to sit facing him, when a grimace of surprise and pain distorted my features as my back skin suddenly burned. The vampire immediately leaned over me in concern, one hand holding my shoulder to keep me from rocking.

- Andraste, is everything okay ?

Seriously, I've been asked this question too much lately.

(Chapter 14)

#eldarya #eldarya new era #i am not your enemy #eldarya lance #eldarya ane #beemoov #lance eldarya #lance #ashkore #eldarya fanfiction #eldarya fanfic #eldarya writing

75 notes · View notes

gisachi · 3 years

Note

Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️

So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;

P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella. 46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.

She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.

So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.

She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.

Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’

He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.

Eventually.

“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”

Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.

“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.

“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”

“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”

She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.

For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.

Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.

And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.

“Ran? She’s pretty special.”

Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.

“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.

“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.

“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”

“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.

“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.

Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.

“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.

“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”

“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”

“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”

“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”

“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”

Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.

In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.

Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.

The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, just swamped with work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to assist?”

“No.”

Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.

“Ran, hey. Look at me.”

His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.

When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.

“You’re… stressed.”

“No, I’m… Eh?”

He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”

Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.

“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”

“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”

Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.”

“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”

He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”

Her heart throbs for him. So much.

She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.

After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.

With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.

Just for that night, she gives it to herself.

She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.

Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.

The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.

“I love you.”

Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.

“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”

The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.

Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.

“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”

“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.

“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”

Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.

“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”

“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Then he turns to her.

“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”

“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”

“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”

“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.

“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.

“Yeah...and?”

Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.

“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”

Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.

“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.

Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.

Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.

Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.

Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.

Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.

Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.

“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”

“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”

“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”

“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.

“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”

“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”

Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”

“In Akita.”

Her pupils constrict. “That far?”

“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”

Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he’ll return with a girlfriend, and—

“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.

Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”

Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.

“Ran, hey.”

She doesn’t stop walking.

“Ran.”

She ignores his call.

“Ran… you’re jealous.”

She stops walking.

“Excuse me?”

“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.

A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.

For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”

Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.

It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...

It stings, is her immediate reaction.

For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.

Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.

“Ran…?”

“I am not, and you’re a fool.”

In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.

If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.

After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.

“Stop... running... will you!”

She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you running?!”

“I can’t...deal with you!”

“Why? Was I right?”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because I am your best friend!”

On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.

“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.

“What are you— Let me go!”

He hugs her tighter.

“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”

“I am happy!”

Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.

Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”

“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”

“What? No! I—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”

“That’s not...You don’t underst—”

“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”

“Stop saying that, Ran!”

She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.

All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.

An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.

“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”

She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.

They look like a scene in a movie.

Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.

She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.

Best friend.

This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.

She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”

She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.

“Ran!”

He shouts her name. Twice.

On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.

She doesn’t.

Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.

It’s the start of winter break.

He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.

She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.

She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.

“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”

“Shinichi.”

His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”

Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.

“May I come in?”

“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”

“I’ll help you.”

“...”

She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.

Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.

On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.

She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.

What has he been thinking of for the past week?

Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?

Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?

The kiss... What about the kiss?

So many questions. So little words. So little time.

Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.

A ringing phone cuts the silence.

“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”

If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.

That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.

“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.

Ran’s eyes fly wide.

“How did you…”

He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.

Again with the throat-drying silence.

Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.

“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”

He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”

Unable to talk and move, she does.

“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”

He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.

“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”

She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.

“Ran.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.

“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”

All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.

“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.

“For you to keep repeating that ‘best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.

“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”

Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.

“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”

Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.

“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”

He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.

“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.

“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”

Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.

In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.

She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.

Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.

“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”

Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.

“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”

“I’m...I’m not dense.”

“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.

“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”

“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“You did though. Now we’re here.”

“Would you rather we aren’t?”

“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”

“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”

“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”

Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.

“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”

“Eh?”

“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”

“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”

Ran falls quiet.

“Geez…”

He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.

“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”

She darts her head sideways, realizing something.

“Were you also…?”

“No.”

Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.

“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”

“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.

“Shinichi.”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.

“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.

Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.

“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.

“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.

“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”

Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.

It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—

“Face me, Ran.”

The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.

She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.

Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.

“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.

“From best friend to... such a shift-”

“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”

She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.

“What about when we fight?” she asks.

“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”

“...Like right now?”

“Like right now.”

A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.

Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.

Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.

Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.

She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.

“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”

“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”

“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.

“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”

“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.

“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”

“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”

“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.

From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.

“Why?” He asks in a low voice.

“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”

“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.

Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.

But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”

The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.

She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry, and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.

“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.

“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”

“Idiot, many people saw...”

“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”

Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.

“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”

“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”

So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.

“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”

The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”

“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.

Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.

#shinran #kiss prompts #fanfic #lmk anon(s) if you see this and if you do then yaaay #thank you for requesting!#and thank you for reading!#:')#I have a love-hate relationship with this fic #it's only supposed to be 4 scenes #oh well it is what it is lmao #it's ok ig since this is the last (awww) from the kiss prompts!#😌#I tried so hard with a jealous Ran haha #jealous fics are good reads but writing them is hard :O

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