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certaimromance · 22 hours ago

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𝜗𝜚 The Ghost Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: You were trying to move on with your life and clear your head about Spencer from a safe distance, but the whole plan goes out the window when you hear his screams.

Words: 5,8k (I went crazy).

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. mention of jail, gun, violence, alcohol. the reader is wearing a dress, and is slightly injured (nothing serious, just a bruise). nightmares. hurt/comfort. so bittersweet. painter!reader. post prison reid. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm finally back! This chapter cost me quite a bit due to lack of time (I'm now officially a university student) and my obsession with making it raw, emotional, and coherent with everything that has happened to Spencer. Really, one of my biggest fears is falling into caricature and making it all seem very out of character, so again, I hope this makes sense to you.

You weren’t the type to go out partying. Nights spent under the haze of neon lights and thumping bass didn’t appeal to you—especially in a city like this one, where shadows stretched long and secrets whispered from every corner. You had your reasons, too. Spending time with an FBI agent who was far too eager to spill the sordid details of his cases left you carrying a permanent thread of suspicion, the kind that made you eye even the janitor’s mop bucket a little too long. But, despite all that, you knew there were moments when you had to relent. When your best friend practically dragged you from your own isolation, insisting on a night out, you could dust off an old dress, slip into heels that pinched just enough to remind you you were still human, and survive the night.

Tonight had been one of those moments.

As you stepped into your apartment, you closed the door carefully behind you, mindful not to wake your cat. The faint jingle of your keys hitting the small table near the door sounded unusually loud in the early morning stillness. The clock on the wall read half past three, and a wave of exhaustion began to creep in, though your mind was too restless to fully embrace it. You glanced toward the worn armchair in the corner, where your cat lay curled in a contented ball. She stirred briefly, opened one green eye, and then decided you weren’t worth the effort of waking up in that moment.

You let out a soft breath and looked around the room. Memories of the night played back in your head as you took off your shoes and went to the kitchen for a glass of water to make you feel a little alive again.

It had all started as an attempt by your friend to pull you out of the orbit of your own misery. “You need this,” she’d said earlier that evening, tugging you out of your chair and into the kind of outfit that made you glance at yourself twice in the mirror, unsure if you still recognized the person staring back.

“Just this time,” you’d agreed.

But, surprisingly, all the dancing and drinking in the bar had been weak against the power of your emotions. Maybe that was because you barely paid attention to the songs they played or the fact that you hadn't even touched the drinks the bartender served you. You had spent most of the night with your chin in your palm, staring into your glass and telling your friend how much you missed Spencer, how the silence in the hallway felt heavier now. And she listened to you patiently, even as the music boomed around you, offering soft, soothing words that you only half heard.

Now, in the stillness of your home, it felt a little foolish and even pathetic. You leaned against the counter, the cold granite grounding you. The sudden and soft shuffle of Mittens broke the silence, and you glanced down to see your cat staring up at you, her green eyes luminous in the dim light. She yawned, then rubbed against your leg, as if to remind you that you weren’t entirely alone. A pretty nice gesture.

You leaned down to scratch her behind the ears, and your thoughts went back to your neighbor. You thought about how he used to smile at you, just barely. You thought about the low timbre of his voice when he greeted you in the hallway, as if he wasn't used to never being heard. He always seemed to carry the weight of something unsaid, something you were afraid to ask. Maybe that's why you were so fascinated by him since the first day. Or maybe it's just because he never looked at you like you were trying too hard, not even on the rare nights you went out in a dress and heels.

As you straightened and turned toward the living room, your eyes caught the faint outline of his window through your own. The blinds were down, but the light was on. It was late, much later than usual for him. It tugged at something inside you, a curiosity laced with longing.

Your cat leapt onto the couch, curling into a soft ball of fur, and you sat beside her. Pulling a blanket over your legs, you let your gaze linger on his window. Was he pacing again, restless like you? He was thinking about what happened between you two yesterday? Could he be regretting everything?

You certainly didn’t know what possessed you, but your phone was in your hand before you could stop yourself and think more than a second about it.

Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was just the weight of wanting someone you couldn’t seem to reach, no matter how close you were. Maybe it was because he was supposed to be your nice and honest Spencer after all. But whatever it was, the message was already halfway typed before you could stop it.

“Are you awake?”

You stared at the screen for a moment, the question hanging there like a fragile thread, one tug away from unraveling everything. You could feel your pulse in your fingertips, the weight of the message sinking into your chest. With a shaky exhale, you pressed send and regretted it instantly.

But he didn’t respond. Not instantly.

You leaned back against the couch, letting your head tip against the cushion. The blanket pooled around your waist, your cat purring softly beside you, oblivious to your unease. You told yourself to stop looking, to let it go. Maybe he wasn’t near his phone. Maybe he’d seen it and didn’t know what to say. Or maybe—your stomach tightened—maybe he didn’t want to talk to you at all.

But the light in his room was still on. It has to mean something. Please let it mean something.

It felt completely ridiculous to fixate on that tiny detail, but you couldn’t help it. You kept wondering what he was doing in there. Was he working on something, hunched over a desk with his brows furrowed in concentration? Was he pacing the room, thinking of everything, just like you? Or was he simply lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, as lost in his thoughts as you were now?

The longer you stared, the more you started to imagine him there and wishing to be there like you used to do, running your fingers through his hair and just enjoying the silence. Now, you could almost see him, the faint silhouette of his figure moving behind the blinds, like a ghost that refused to stay hidden.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your hand, and your breath caught, but it wasn’t him. Just a notification from some app you’d forgotten to turn off, and in that moment you hate it completely. You let out a shaky laugh, half at your own foolishness and half to fill the silence.

Outside, the city was starting to move and advance again. A car passed by, and its headlights cut through the darkness. In the distance, a siren wailed, high and short. It was a reminder of how small you were in the big picture, of how trivial your problems might seem compared to everyone else's. But still, your eyes drifted back to his window, making that the biggest problem in the world.

The light hadn’t flickered again, but it was steady, constant. You told yourself to stop watching, to turn off your own light, and just continue your way to your bed. But something rooted you there, some stubborn hope that he’d notice you watching, or that he’d respond to your message, even with something small.

But yet, nothing came, and all your hope started to disappear slowly.

Maybe it was time to let him go, to stop acting like a lovesick puppy following in his footsteps, and most of all, to stop trying to give him a coherent reason for being distant. Maybe you weren't welcome in his life anymore. Maybe the gun incident was just what he would do for any neighbor he thought was in danger. Maybe you weren't as important as you thought you were.

After a moment, you decided it was best to go to bed, so you pulled the blanket up to your chin, the weight of the day slowly slipping away. But then it began. At first it was so faint you might have thought it was part of your imagination, just a murmur, a low sound carried by the stillness of the night. But it didn't fade. It grew louder, sharp, jagged, and unmistakable. A choked scream broke the silence of your apartment, raw and desperate, like someone drowning in their own breath.

Your heart jolted in your chest. The sound was different this time—familiar, but more frantic. It was a chorus of broken sobs and harsh, muffled shouts, followed by a sound you couldn’t quite place but which churned something so dark in your stomach.

And then, the scream.

It wasn’t just a noise. It was a cry born of suffering, guttural and aching, twisting in ways that made your blood run cold. Your eyes snapped open, wide and alert, and your body froze in place. The world around you seemed to fade, the hum of the city outside distant, irrelevant. There was only that sound. That scream.

It came again. Another strangled, desperate cry echoed through the walls. And this time, you knew.

Spencer.

Without thinking, you grabbed your keys from the bedside table and moved quickly toward the door. You weren’t sure why you were doing it, why you were stepping into the unknown at this hour, but it felt like the only thing to do to make sure he was okay. You’d heard him through the tiny walls before—quiet murmurs, little things, but nothing like this. This felt like he was caught in something bigger, something that worried you immensely.

The hallway was dark, empty, and your footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence to wake up all the neighbors. Every sound felt amplified, like the whole apartment was holding its breath with you. You didn’t knock. You didn’t stop to think. You just shoved the key into the lock, the cold metal pressing into your palm as you twisted it, your breath caught in your throat.

You stepped inside.

The apartment was bathed in the pale glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds, casting long, distorted shadows across the floor. Everything felt unnervingly still, too still, the silence almost suffocating in its weight, amplifying every sound that dared break it. His door was slightly ajar, the sliver of light spilling out like a silent invitation, beckoning you in. Drawn by the echoes of his suffering, you moved toward his bedroom, your body moving almost on instinct. The door opened just wide enough to allow you a glimpse.

What you saw made your heart stutter in your chest.

Spencer was tangled in his sheets, his body thrashing violently beneath them, his movements frantic and desperate as if he were trying to escape some invisible force. His face was contorted in agony, his brow furrowed so tightly it seemed the pain had etched itself into his very skin. His chest rose and fell in shallow, jagged breaths, the effort so intense it seemed to burn through him, his body quivering with every painful inhalation. He was caught in the grip of some terrible nightmare, one so vicious it stole his ability to breathe, to think, to fight.

You could see the whiteness of his knuckles, his fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the bed, the skin stretched taut and trembling with the strain. His whole body was rigid, muscles locked in a battle against the unseen terrors his mind had conjured. Tears streaked down his face, mingling with the sweat that had gathered along his brow, the rawness of his cries reverberating in the stillness, thickening the air around you.

��Spencer?” You whispered, barely recognizing your own voice as it trembled in the room. You reached toward him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he didn’t respond. He was lost—completely lost—in whatever dark place his mind had pulled him into, and you didn’t know what to do. “Spencer, wake up,” you tried again, your voice desperate, thick with the urgency of the situation.

His eyes were squeezed shut, the lines of his face tight with tension, his lips trembling with the words that came next, words broken and heavy with pain.

“Please…don’t do it…” he gasped, his voice breaking on the words, filled with so much pain that it made your chest tighten. His hands reached out, grasping at the empty air in frantic, helpless motions. Like he was trying to hold onto something—anything—that could pull him out of the darkness.

You felt the heaviness of his plea in your bones. The torment in his voice was unbearable.

“No, no, no…” he whispered, the words barely audible, but they hit you with the weight of something deep, something far beyond just a nightmare. He was begging, pleading for something that you couldn’t see, couldn’t understand. His body jerked, still trying to pull away from something that wasn’t really there. “Leave me, please, leave me.”

“Spencer!” You called again, louder this time, your hand on his shoulder, your voice trembling with urgency. You shook him, trying to pull him back from wherever his mind had taken him.

In the heat of your panic, you thought it was the right thing to do, thought you could snap him out of it. You thought you could reach him.

But then, in an instant, everything went wrong.

The second your hand touched his shoulder, his body jerked violently, more forceful than before, and without warning, his fist shot out. It connected with your left cheek with such brutal force that your head snapped back, the sting of the blow exploding across your face. For a moment, everything went dark, the pain so sudden and sharp that it left you breathless and disoriented, your body instinctively reeling from the shock. A whimper escaped your throat involuntarily, as the world around you tilted, your vision blurring as you pressed your hand to your cheek, the sting still radiating across your skin.

But he didn’t seem to notice. He continued to thrash beneath the sheets, his body trembling violently, his cries still trapped in that nightmare. You gasped for air, trying to steady yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You’d been trying to help, trying to pull him from his terror—and instead, you’d been struck.

For a heartbeat, there was only the harsh rhythm of your breathing. And then, Spencer’s eyes snapped open, wide and wild, and it was as if the world around him collapsed into focus. His breath hitched in his throat, still shallow, but the frantic terror began to give way to confusion. His eyes flickered across the room, distant and unfocused, and then they landed on you.

In that instant, everything seemed to slow. He blinked, his eyes glazing over in disbelief as they locked on your face, lingering for a moment on the red mark blooming on your cheek. His lips parted, his voice catching in his throat, his expression morphing from confusion to something far worse—horror.

“Oh my God…” He whispered, his voice trembling with fear and guilt, his whole body shaking. “Oh my God—did I—?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t find the words to reassure him, not in that moment.

He pushed himself up from the bed, his body unsteady, shaky with the tremors of both fear and guilt. His eyes never left your face, locked onto the evidence of his panic etched across your skin. “No. No, no, no,” he stammered, his words coming faster, more frantic, as if trying to deny the reality of what had just happened. “I hit you—I—”

“Spencer,” you started, but your voice was soft, almost hesitant, the lingering sting in your cheek making it hard to speak.

He didn’t hear you. He was already out of bed, nearly tripping over himself as he scrambled toward you. His hands hovered in the air, trembling with the weight of his guilt. “I didn’t mean to! I swear! I—I didn’t know—” His voice cracked, and his hands hovered near your face, but he didn’t touch you, not yet, too afraid that his very presence would cause you more harm. His eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”

“Spencer, stop,” you said, your voice firmer now, despite the ache in your chest. “It’s okay. It was an accident.”

But he wasn’t listening. He backed away from you, running a shaky hand through his hair, pacing in agitation, his whole body wracked with guilt. “No, it’s not okay. I—” His voice broke, the words dying in his throat.

You stepped closer to him, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek, reaching out to take his hand, hoping that this simple touch might anchor him in the midst of his storm. At first, he flinched, his body reacting to the contact as though it burned, but then he froze, and his gaze locked with yours.

“Listen to me, please,” you said softly, gently forcing him to meet your eyes, to hold your gaze. His bloodshot eyes were filled with shame, his face a mask of regret. “Look at me. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

His brow furrowed, his gaze flicking to your cheek once more, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re not okay. I can see it—I did that.” His hands trembled as he pointed to the mark on your skin. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You were having a nightmare,” you interrupted gently, your voice tender, yet firm. “You didn’t know what you were doing. It wasn’t your fault…I shouldn’t have touched you like that when you were in that state.”

“No, it’s all in me…I’m the one who did this.” He choked on his own words, his chest rising and falling with the effort of holding back the sobs that threatened to break free. “I’m the reason you’re hurting.”

You felt the weight of his guilt like a crushing force. It felt suffocating, like the walls around him were closing in, and you couldn’t stand seeing him like this—lost in his own self-loathing. You wanted to reach him, to show him that it wasn’t his fault, that his nightmare had taken hold of him, not his own hands.

But it wasn’t just the nightmare that had gripped him; it was the way he saw himself now. A man who hurt others without meaning to, a man who couldn’t escape the damage he had caused. You had been there before, watching him battle his inner demons, and you knew how much this guilt could eat away at him if left unchecked.

You watched him struggle, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his head bowed like he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. The weight of his guilt was tangible, suffocating, and you had to do something—anything—to stop it from consuming him.

“If it were me,” you murmured, searching his face, “if I had been the one thrashing, if I had been the one to hit you, would you be standing here telling me I was a terrible person?”

Spencer blinked. His lips parted, his breath shaky, and you could see the internal war waging behind his eyes.

“I—” He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching in yours. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Because I know what’s inside my head. I know what I’ve seen, and I—” He cut himself off, inhaling sharply, his entire body shuddering. “I don’t trust myself not to hurt people.”

That was the most honest thing he'd said to you in three months, and he instantly regretted it. The look in your eyes says too much, and almost all was pity.

“That’s not fair,” you told him, voice steady. “And you know it.”

He didn’t respond. He can’t because you were right.

Instead, he turned abruptly, running a shaking hand through his hair, muttering, “Wait here. Just—just stay.”

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the kitchen. You heard the faint sound of running water, the clink of something being opened, and then the hurried shuffle of his footsteps as he returned, a small hand towel in one hand and a plastic bag filled with ice in the other.

Without a word, Spencer knelt in front of you, his movements careful, deliberate, as if afraid you might flinch. He gently wrapped the ice in the towel, his hands trembling slightly, and looked up at you, his expression unreadable.

“Let me,” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with emotion.

You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Slowly, he raised the makeshift ice pack to your cheek, his movements tender, almost hesitant, as though he feared he might hurt you again. The coolness of the ice was a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand, which hovered just beneath your jaw, steadying you.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“No,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

He exhaled shakily, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, but his gaze remained fixed on your face. His thumb brushed against your skin absentmindedly, just below where the ice rested, and the gentleness of the touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“God,” he said, his voice breaking, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s really not that bad.” You spoke softly, trying to cut through his panic. “If I’m being honest, Mittens has scratched me more times than I can count.” You lifted your arm, showing the faint, nearly invisible white lines crisscrossing your skin. “She’s a little terror sometimes, but I love her anyway.”

His eyes flickered to the marks, but the tension in his expression didn’t ease. His brows furrowed, the crease between them deepening with uncertainty. “But that’s different,” he murmured, his voice hesitant, like he was afraid to argue but couldn’t stop himself. “A cat scratching you isn’t the same as—” He swallowed hard. “As hitting you.”

You smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried more weight than it should—small, knowing, resigned. “It is the same,” you said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Because I love her no matter what she does by accident. And I…”

The words got stuck in your throat. I love you.

But you couldn’t say them. Not now. Not when he was looking at you like he was the monster under your bed, the thing you should fear, when all you could see was the boy who had once held your hand in the dark just to make sure you weren’t afraid.

You just watched him.

Watched the way his jaw was clenched so tightly it could shatter. Watched the way his hands still trembled, despite his best efforts. Watched the way his brows furrowed in that deep, pained way that made your chest ache.

And then, in the silence, you spoke.

“You do realize that when we used to sleep together, I kicked you, like…constantly, right?”

That startled him. His eyes widened, his brows pulling together in confusion. “What?”

A small, tired smile ghosted across your lips. “You don’t complain much, but I know I do. I kick in my sleep. I shift around. I always end up tangled in the blankets, stealing all the covers.” You let out a soft, almost self-conscious chuckle. “There was one night you woke up because I kneed you in the ribs. Hard.”

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and you saw it—the moment he obviously remembered.

His lips parted, his breath hitching slightly. “You—yeah.” His voice was barely audible, but it had lost some of its sharp edges. “You kicked me so hard I nearly fell off the bed.”

You nodded. “And did you get mad at me?”

His brows furrowed. “Of course not. You were asleep.”

“Exactly.” You tilted your head, ignoring the way the ice sent another sharp pulse of cold through your skin. “I never meant to hurt you, but I still did. Just like you never meant to hurt me.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes flicking between yours, something raw and hesitant creeping into his expression.

“It’s different,” he said, but the conviction in his voice was weaker now.

“Is it?” you challenged softly. “I know you, Spencer. I know who you are.”

Oh no, you didn’t know him. Not really. Not anymore.

His breath shuddered, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, his eyes searching your face like he was looking for something—proof, maybe, or forgiveness. Maybe both.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for him again, this time taking his hand in both of yours. He let you. He didn’t pull away.

“You’re not a violent person,” you whispered. “You are not the things that have happened to you years ago. You are not the things you’ve had to do to see in your work. You are not the nightmares that try to tell you otherwise.”

His fingers twitched beneath yours, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly.

For the first time since he had woken up, his shoulders sagged—just slightly, but enough for you to see the weight of his guilt beginning to lift, piece by piece. Even though he knew that if you knew what had happened in the last three months, those words would not have come out of your mouth.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered, like a prayer.

“I know,” you whispered back. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them.

Without thinking, your fingers lifted, brushing against the sharp line of his jaw. The warmth of his skin seeped into your fingertips, grounding you both. You had done this before—when the weight of the world had pressed too heavily on his shoulders, when the ghosts in his mind grew too loud to ignore. You had kissed his tears away in the past, stolen moments of comfort from the chaos.

And so, you did it again.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips gently against the corner of his eye, where a fresh tear lingered. The warmth of his skin felt almost feverish beneath your touch, as though his entire body was caught in the grip of a storm. Your lips brushed the salty trail of his tear, and another followed almost instantly. Without thinking, you kissed it too, your lips lingering a moment longer, offering a tenderness that neither of you had allowed yourselves in so long. The sweetness of the moment almost made you forget the ache in your chest and the bruise on your cheek.

He shuddered beneath your touch, a sharp breath catching in his throat. You felt the tension ripple through him, the way he stiffened for just a second—caught between wanting to pull away and wanting to collapse into you.

And then, as if it were inevitable, your lips brushed against his, just a breath away. You could feel the heat of his skin, the pulse of his heartbeat under your fingers. You were so close, closer than you’d been in so long, closer than you’d dared to let yourself believe was possible.

Your heart pounded. His did too.

His lashes fluttered, his gaze locked onto yours, searching, hesitant.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. The words were barely audible, spoken like they might break if said any louder. “Tell me to get away from you.”

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

And for a fleeting second, he was just a boy, and you were just the girl next door. No past, no pain, no history—just this.

Or maybe not.

The reality crashed back in, and all the things you didn’t know came back to his mind.

The ice pack in his hand had started to burn from how tightly he was gripping it, and the cold sting jolted him back to the truth he was trying so hard to ignore. His gaze darted to the bruise on your cheek, and in an instant, everything shifted.

He wasn’t just a boy.

He was an ex-convict. Someone dangerous. Someone broken. A liar.

And the only thing he could give the girl next door was more pain.

Spencer flinched as though struck, his entire body going rigid as he ripped himself away from you. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his chest rising and falling too fast, as if he were surfacing from deep water. The ice pack slipped slightly in his grip, like it had suddenly become too heavy to hold.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice trembling, the words choked with anguish. His eyes darted to the mark on your cheek, his expression twisted with guilt. “I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have even—God, what am I doing?”

“Wait—” You reached for him again, but he was already retreating, shaking his head in frantic, jerky motions.

“No,” he muttered, his voice fraying at the edges. “No, I can’t—I shouldn’t even be near you.” His fingers tightened around the ice pack like it was a lifeline, like it could somehow build a wall between you. “You shouldn’t let me touch you. Not after what I just did. What I did yesterday. What I might do.”

“You were dreaming,” you tried again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, but there was no anger in it. Just raw, unfiltered pain. His whole body seemed to sag under the weight of it. He turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. “It doesn’t matter why it happened. What matters is that it did. I hurt you.”

He did it even when he was so afraid that someone else would do it.

“It was an accident.”

“But it was me.” His voice rose in despair, his hands clenching at his sides. “I did it. My hands. I can’t—” He gestured wildly at your cheek, his breath hitching. “I can’t undo that.”

You didn't say anything.

The room felt impossibly small, as if the walls were closing in with every passing second. The silence between you stretched taut, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of something neither of you had the strength to name. The air was thick with the faint scent of coffee—bitter, stale, clinging to the space around you. Your gaze drifted past him, landing on the nightstand beside his bed.

Coffee cups. So many of them.

You didn’t count them, but the number didn’t matter. It was the stains at the bottom that told the real story—the dark rings of dried coffee, layer upon layer, marking the passage of sleepless nights. Some of the cups were only half-empty, abandoned mid-drink, as if exhaustion had finally won for a brief moment before panic dragged him back into consciousness. Others were drained completely, the last dregs of caffeine clinging stubbornly, as if trying to hold on to something already lost.

It wasn’t just coffee, though.

Books stacked haphazardly, some opened and left facedown, pages creased from where his shaking hands had clutched them too tightly. Papers covered in his cramped, hurried handwriting, words scrawled over and over as though writing them down might keep the memories from slipping through the cracks. A pen, its tip snapped, the ink dried into a small, angry blotch on a forgotten page.

And then, at the edge of it all, the only thing untouched—the single glass of water, still full, still waiting. Like it had been set aside with the intention of being drunk but never was. Because he hadn’t stopped long enough to remember he needed it, even with his wonderful memory.

He had been trying not to sleep.

The realization struck like a blade slipping between your ribs, slow and deliberate, the pain blooming in your chest before you had time to brace for it. You inhaled sharply, the sound barely audible over the steady hum of your own heartbeat. When you looked back at him, you saw it—the exhaustion carved into his features like cracks in porcelain, the dark circles beneath his eyes deep enough to tell their own stories. His hands were trembling, his fingers curled into fists at his sides as if he were trying to hold himself together, piece by piece, before he shattered completely.

This wasn’t just sleeplessness. This was obsession. This was someone running from something, from himself.

And you hadn’t even noticed until now.

“Spencer…” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but everything felt too small, too inadequate for the storm raging inside him. “What’s going on with you?”

He flinched, like you’d struck him, but didn’t answer. His fingers curled around the ice pack again, knuckles white with tension. His jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt.

You stepped closer, your heart hammering in your chest, but you didn’t move to touch him. Not yet. Not until he let you in. “This isn’t just about tonight, is it?”

Still, nothing. No answer, no hint of recognition. His eyes remained fixed somewhere just beyond you, a million miles away, a stranger in his own skin.

You tried again, your voice softer this time, as though the gentleness might coax him out of his silence. “When was the last time you actually slept?”

That got a reaction. His gaze flickered to you, but only for a second, before he tore it away, staring somewhere over your shoulder like he could pretend he wasn’t here at all. His silence spoke volumes.

Your chest ached. “Spence.”

“I can handle it,” he murmured, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“You’re not handling it,” you countered softly. “You’re barely holding yourself together.”

His lips twisted into something bitter, the words tasting like acid as they spilled out. “That’s nothing new.”

The bitterness in his tone made your stomach twist. You took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Talk to me,” you pleaded, voice gentle but firm. “Please. Whatever it is—whatever’s been keeping you up at night, whatever’s making you pull away—I want to know.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You don’t.”

“I do.”

“No, you really don’t.” His voice cracked, and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were haunted. “Because if you knew—if you really knew—you wouldn’t be standing here.”

Your heart stopped.

“What does that mean?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He didn't answer, he just kept looking at you like you were made of glass, as if one wrong word would break you entirely. But that wasn’t it, was it? No—there was something deeper, something raw and frayed at the edges, something desperate.

He wasn’t looking at you like you might break.

He was looking at you like he might.

Then you understand something: Spencer Reid wasn’t someone to be afraid of, because he was afraid.

Just like you had been since he left you in his bed three months ago, with a promise that felt more like a lie with every passing day.

Tag list ❤︎ ︎: I finally made this! So send me an ask or comment here if you would like to be added or removed!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #matthew gray gubler

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kdollikesthighs · 11 hours ago

Text

The last time: part 1

Itzy Lia x m reader A/N: Like all my itzy part 1s I'm trying out, this has no smut yet. Just fluff. Smut will come in the next chapters. Word count: 2,568 words

The music is loud, but not loud enough. This place smells like sweat and cheap alcohol, the exact same mixture you can find at any college party. People shout over each other, cups crinkle under people’s dancing feet, and everyone is touching everyone.

You should be enjoying yourself, but even the loudest distractions can’t prevent your eyes from being locked on to Lia.

She stands near the edge of the room, far away from the life of the party, arms crossed, tears swelling in the corners of her eyes but refusing to spill over. Her boyfriend—the eternal class act that he is—leans in close, probably spouting some bullshit. His expression is all smooth confidence, but hers is hurt. You don’t need to hear what he’s saying. You already know. You saw him, lips on another girl, bodies flush against each other like Lia never existed in the first place. And now, he’s feeding her some excuse, no doubt in his mind that she will just swallow it like she always does.

But something’s different this time. She’s not buying it, and she’s not giving in. And then, just like that, he sighs, throws up his hands, and walks away. No fight, no desperation. He just walks away from her like she was never worth the effort.

You don’t even hesitate. No time to. She’s your best friend after all. You move.

Lia barely reacts as you step in beside her, but when you nudge her arm, she exhales, already privy to your antics. “Not now.”

“If it’s up to you, it’s not ever,” you correct. You don’t wait for permission. You snag a bottle of whiskey from the counter next to her and pop the cap. “Drink with me!”

She hesitates. She’s reluctant. “I don’t feel like drinking.”

“And I don’t feel like letting you mope tonight.” You take a swig straight from the bottle and hand it to her. It burns, but it’s bright and distracting. “Come on. When was the last time you lived a little?”

She eyes you, then the bottle, then you again. Something shifts in her expression—anger, defiance, something that reminds her of memories long buried. She snatches the bottle from your grasp and takes a drink. It burns, and she coughs, but she doesn’t hand it back.

You grin. “That’s the spirit!”

She scoffs through the coughs, but the corner of her lips twitch. “Shut up.”

You’re already scanning the party, looking for something to pull her out of her own head. There’s a group playing beer pong, hyping each other up like they’re at the Olympics. Perfect.

You drag Lia along with you, as you approach the would-be champions. Without warning, you grab a ball off the table and line up a shot. The guy who was about to throw blinks at you. “Dude, what the hell?”

You ignore him and flick your wrist towards victory. The ball arcs, bounces once, and lands straight into a cup. The crowd reacts with a mix of cheers and protests, but you don’t care. You turn to Lia, smirking with satisfaction, and hand her the next ball. “Your turn.”

She stares at you. Her body is shrinking, and it looks like she might retreat into her shell. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re up.”

Lia glances at the crowd watching, the challenge hanging in the air. She looks at you, your smile going from one ear to the other encouraging her to partake. She takes a deep breath, takes the ball, straightens her shoulders, and throws. The ball drops into a cup flawlessly.

The room erupts. The guy whose game you interrupted throws his arms up in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lia doesn’t gloat. She just picks up the cup, downs the beer inside, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand like she’s been doing this her whole life. Then, she looks at you.

You whistle. “Damn.”

She smirks. “What can I say?”

You step in close, voice level adjusted to be just for her. “This is fun, isn’t it?”

She exhales, something loosening in her. “Yeah. It kind of is.”

But you’re not stopping here.

You scan the room for the next move. You spot it, your next target—an old speaker, unattended and inviting on a counter, playing the same overplayed pop song. With Lia in tow, you stride over and connect your phone. The music cuts off, and a few people groan, but you just open your library and hit play.

A completely different song blasts through the room. Something more obscure, something wilder.

People react immediately, some booing, others cheering. Lia’s eyes react instinctively. “Wait, this song—”

“You like this song,” you fall in, leaving no doubt about the reason for your choice.

She laughs, the sound light, unburdened but restrained. “I do.”

“So dance.”

She hesitates, but you grab her hand, spinning her once. She stumbles into you, laughing despite herself. The party moves on around you, but for a moment, it’s just the two of you, caught in your own little world.

You can see it on her face. For the first time tonight, Lia isn’t thinking about him.

But the moment shatters. Your efforts were beginning to bear fruit, but they were spoiled too soon.

From across the room, he approaches. Her boyfriend’s voice, loud and annoyed, pierces the carefully crafted atmosphere. “Lia, what the hell are you doing?”

You don’t even have to turn to see him pushing his way through the crowd, eyes locked on her, clenched fists like he was preparing for a fight. The fun, the freedom, it all fades from existence, from her face—hesitation, guilt trying to creep back in.

Not this time. You’ve seen it happen countless times before now.

You lean in close, voice out her boyfriend's reach. “Let’s get out of here.”

She looks at you, uncertain of it all.

Then, her boyfriend calls her name again, sharper this time, as if she’s making another mistake. But she knows better.

Lia grabs your wrist in her first act of defiance. “Let’s go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You let her lead you outside the house, but once outside, the roles reverse. You don’t let her pause, let her stop here. Instead, you take her even further away from the party to the first and best thing your mind can think of.

The arcade is alive with flashing neon lights, the chaotic symphony of electronic jingles and mixed reactions filling the air. You shove a few bills into the token machine, spilling a handful into your palm before tossing a few to Lia. She catches them like it’s a practiced act, but her expression is skeptical.

“You seriously dragged me to an arcade?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at your great escape.

“You seriously gonna tell me you’re too cool for this?” You grin, nudging her towards the air hockey tables. “Come on, we’re settling this once and for all. Air hockey. I used to smoke you all the time. Loser gets a punishment.”

Lia chortles, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind her eyes. “You’re on.”

You pick your table, and from the second the puck drops, it’s war. Lia is fast, but her shots are wild. She misses easy blocks, fumbling the paddle once, but she’s so caught up in the fun she doesn’t notice how you start easing up, letting her slip goals past you. When she scores the final point, she throws her arms up, victorious.

“Destroying you has never felt better,” she teases, gloating as if she just settled a lifelong rivalry.

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Alright, alright. Fair’s fair. What’s my punishment?”

She taps a finger against her chin before smirking. “Close your eyes.”

You sigh but comply. You’re not a sore loser, not after choosing to be one. A few moments later, she presses a cold can into your hands. You pop it open and take a sip—immediately regretting it. “What the hell is this?!”

Lia bursts into laughter. “Carbonated milk. Consider it payback.”

You sputter the concoction, wiping your mouth of its filth. “That’s foul.”

Her grin is as proud as it was mischievous. “Exactly.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. You’ve missed this. Missed spending time with her. “Alright, let’s move on. I’m winning you something.”

You drag her to the claw machine, and she crosses her arms, unimpressed. “Please, these things are rigged.”

“Not when you’ve got my skills.” You crack your knuckles, putting on an exaggerated show of focus as you deftly maneuver the claw. Lia observes your performance, still skeptical, until the claw actually snags onto a small stuffed bear and holds on long enough to drop it into the chute.

You scoop it out and hand it to her, the bravado of a man who won a teddy bear ten times the size you just had. “Told you.”

She takes it, eyes softer than before. “I… didn’t think you’d actually get it.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises.”

She holds the bear against her chest for a moment before stuffing it into her bag. “Alright, I’ll admit. That was kind of sweet.”

“Kind of?”

She rolls her eyes in the same mock annoyance she must have learned from you. Or was it you who learned it from her? Either way, she doesn’t argue any further.

Eventually, you both step out of the arcade looking for your next distraction, the night air cool against your skin. Lia stretches her arms over her head, exhaling. “Alright, what’s next?”

You glance around, spotting a near-empty grocery store parking lot, an idea sparking in your mind. A childish smile spreads across your face. “I think I see our next challenge.”

Lia follows the direction of your gaze to an abandoned shopping cart and lets out an incredulous laugh. “No way.”

“Oh, come on. You trust me, right?” Your rebuttal is tempting, tempting enough to get her to hum as she considers it.

She shakes her head but, to your delight, climbs into the cart. “Alright. Just don’t kill me.”

You take a running start, the wheels rattling as you push her through the empty lot. Lia shrieks high pitched and filled with life, clutching the sides as you pick up speed, laughter bubbling past her lips. It’s reckless and stupid, but it feels good—feels free.

When you finally slow down, she’s breathless, her face suddenly inches from yours. She doesn’t move away. You don’t want to either.

The cool air becomes heavy, something new unraveling in the little distance between your eyes.

Before you can say something you didn’t stop to think about, Lia clears her throat and looks away. “We should—keep going. What’s next?”

You nod, shaking off the moment just as easily as it came. “Let’s go find something else to conquer.”

You end up outside a rundown photo booth near an old convenience store, its flickering sign barely hanging on. The joy on your face says everything Lia needs to know. She eyes it, then you. “Seriously?”

“Come on. Gotta commemorate the night somehow!”

She huffs, exhaling air through her nose in a quick burst but follows you inside. The cramped space forces you close, her shoulder pressing into yours as she scoots barely into frame. The first flash goes off as she makes a face, sticking her tongue out.You paint a big smile on your face for the picture, throwing an arm around her to pull her into the frame for the next one.

Then, right before the third flash, you can feel Lia’s body tense up against yours. She’s planning something. She looks at you, really looks at you, before smirking mischievously. You can’t help but wonder what prank she has planned to pull on you, but you’ll let it happen nonetheless. Cheering her up was worth it all.

And then, instead of some grand, over-the-top stunt, she does something quieter. She leans in, sliding deeper under your arm, her head resting against your shoulder. Her fingers interlock with yours, and she doesn’t let go.

The camera flashes.

You glance down at her, your chest squeezing tighter then when you were pushing her around in a cart. She doesn’t say anything, just stays there, close, warm. The playful air shifts—becomes something calm.

She doesn’t move away, doesn’t laugh it off. Just holds your hand a little tighter, waiting. You rub your thumb over hers. It’s soothing. You’re just friends. You had never even considered Lia as something else. But what if…?

The next flash of the camera captures the sudden stillness, the quiet storm brewing between and inside of you.

You let out a breath, finally looking away. “Come on,” you murmur, squeezing her hand once before standing. “I know where we can go next.”

As you step out into the night, Lia doesn’t let go of your hand right away. She lingers, thumb brushing against your skin before finally, hesitantly, letting it slip away. Neither of you comment further on it.

After a few moments of walking in silence, you glance at her. “You remember the old jungle gym?”

She blinks, then lets out a soft laugh. “From middle school? The one we used to sit at, talking about nothing for hours?”

“Exactly, that’s the one! Haven’t been there in years.”

Lia tilts her head, considering. Then she smiles, a green light signal to go ahead. “Let’s go.”

You climb to the top of the jungle gym together, the city humming in the distance, but here, beneath the stars, everything feels still.

Lia stretches out, staring up at the sky absentmindedly. “It’s weird. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done this.”

“What? We used to climb this thing all the time.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, not that! Just… let go like this.”

You watch her, the way her hair falls against the worn metal, the way the moonlight catches in her eyes. “We used to do that too all the time,” you remind her. “Back when we had nothing better to do than waste time here.”

She smiles faintly. “Yeah. Before everything got… complicated.”

You don’t say anything, only offering a smile that reaches half of your lips. You just watch her as she rolls onto her side, propping herself on an elbow facing you. “Why are you doing this?” she asks suddenly, eyes searching yours as if they’ll provide the answer.

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden question. “What do you mean?”

“This.” She gestures vaguely around her and towards you. “Dragging me around, making me forget about him.”

Your throat tightens. You think about saying something inflammatory about her boyfriend, but don’t even want to let a thought of him taint this place. “Because I hate seeing you like that.”

She studies you, her gaze flickering over your face. She looks down. Her smile is small but real. Like she’s happy she’s here now, but already mourning the fact that it won’t last. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s easy when you’re with me.”

When you’re starving, and you have a bite, you only end up craving more. That same hunger is consuming Lia right now. She’s feasting on this moment, indulging in every reckless, fleeting moment like she's been starving for it. Watching her like this, so alive, enjoying each minute she has—you can’t help but feel the hunger too.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #m reader #male reader #kpop smut #smut #itzy smut #lia smut

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kryptznnn · 2 days ago

Text

♛/♡ -Tragedy II

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

➸ INTERESTS; - aged up!neteyam x omatikayan f!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - Love at first sight doesn’t exist, everyone knows that. There’s attraction, reaction, and understanding someone to call something love. Neteyam wasn’t sure what it was that he felt for you, but whatever it was, he didn’t want it to end.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.6.5k, mentions of heat cycles, rejection, one sided love, unrequited affection, kissing, fluff, smut, p in v, fingering, ejaculation consumption, teasing, dominant fem lead, clouded judgement, mating, biting, blood mentions, etc.

➸a.i; - whoo!! finished this up i hope you guys enjoy it, sorry it took me so long it’s been a really bad week! but im working on other fics and reqs in my inbox (i’ve had since nov-dec) trying to get all the old stuff out first to get to new ideas!! thank u so much for the love! also this lowkey isn't proofread

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

♛/♡ Tragedy I

Neteyam was a good man, a good brother, a good if not great son. Which is why it was so surprising hearing and witnessing him speaking back to his parents for the first time ever. His father complained how worried his mother and grandmother have been about finding a mate for him in order to pass the responsibility Jake had been harboring for over two decades to the next, and Neteyam had simply responded how he didn't care.

He was lying their actions.

As soon as he had mentioned he found someone his father was quick to take his side, smiling at him softly before whispering with his wife to the side, who only shook her head. Her mother had already decided what needed to be done, with or without his approval, the average time of courting would naturally take months, and it was months they didn't have.

The people needed a strong ruler with an even stronger woman by his side. The position of tsahik wasn't a problem, Kiri could always fill it, as she's had the best and most practices from her grandmother, but Neteyam's situation was more complicated. Even as he watched his parents speak to one another he wasn't sure what kind of power his father had over his mother.

He would always give her some look, like a pleading look almost or just a caress to her face in order to swoon her, and it always worked. Maybe it was love, it had to be, his grandmother had spoken to him about how love comes in many shapes or forms but can never be denied. Somehow watching his parents interact before his father placed a kiss on his mother's forehead reminded him of you, and your interaction from earlier in the afternoon on the beach.

It was night now, the sky was bleak and cloudy, the stars hadn't shined as bright as they usually had, almost as if the night sky was mourning as he was. Mourning the loss of love, he was so close to having you to himself and now he felt as if he was going back to square one. It hurt him, but he didn't feel like crying, or getting upset to the point he'd lash out at others around him, he just sat on the cold wooded floors and propped his knees to his chest.

His back was now facing his parents as he watched the sky, asking himself what you were probably doing by this time. Maybe bathing or eating with your family, helping clean up the aftermath or reading to your younger sister. You could've been sewing or beading clothing together for you to wear on special occasions as he watched you do a few months ago.

Or maybe your family was all out and busy for the night and you were all alone at home, waiting for some company. He was sure he could provide you more than just company, making his time with you highly worthwhile, but yet again it would probably be better to talk things out about what happened earlier. Or maybe you two didn't need too talk anything out, when things happen between two people who can't help themselves it's meant to be.

The two of you were meant to be, that sounded satisfactory, it definitely pleased him, bringing a smile to his face. He was so used to growing up and sacrificing things for his sibling's happiness or just too tired to fight for it. He was grateful for that actually, listening to the way his father was raised and the life he lived on the stars from above pained him, no one should live a life like that, but his father always reminded him if he hadn't gone through any of that he wouldn't be blessed in the future to be reborn.

Maybe his father was right, thankfully to him he was grown into a responsible young man, athletic, intelligent, and handsome, there was nothing but greatness in him. He felt more than responsible about you though and just wasn't sure as to why. It was something like a craving or poison in his mind that was stuck there forever.

It would make his insides itch and his outsides hot; it's almost like when you sit out in the sun for too long with dry skin and start to feel discomfort. But the sun feels so nice when you've been in the cold for so long and have nothing else to turn too, that's how he felt about you. You haunted his mind in such an eerie way, and at first, he had even had his grandmother check him for illness 'just because', sure you had done something to him, but nothing came back.

He yearned and grieved for your affection as if you had passed away, like a ghost he could only breath in whenever he closed his eyes. He was sure if anyone was able to hear or read his mind, they'd call him crazy, but he didn't feel that way, he felt free. Soon enough, snapping him out of his trance was a woman walking beside him, one he hadn't seen before.

Or maybe he had seen her before, he just hadn't remembered. His head followed her movements as she made her way behind him, walking towards his parents and taking her side beside them. This immediately made Neteyam spring to his feet and follow behind, raising a brow.

His father introduced the two of them to one another, speaking of their affiliations and granting Neteyam the choice to at least keep their new guest busy and grow fond of her before making a solid decision of his future. He knew his father well, his voice was laced with responsibility and seriousness, but in all honesty, it was mainly code for 'be nice to her and go court whoever it is you wanted'.

He was listening, his ears flicked slightly listening to the woman introduce herself and pronounce her name. 'Fa'nyma', strange name, completely different from yours, but it seemed to suit her somewhat. She was shorter than you, he took notice of her hair was much longer on some part, and she wore lots of jewelry. Maybe it was to impress him, but he could only think of how those jewels would've looked against your skin, your smile.

He smiled to himself and nodded, quickly changing his face into a stir of a frown and turned his attention back to his parents in order for Fa'nyma to not get the wrong idea. He knew better than to be rude, especially to a woman, it's not the way he was raised to be at all, so he would be cordial with her, that he agreed on.

But that kind of promise became difficult to keep when it came to the fact that she practically followed him everywhere. He had planned to come and see you in your kelku, only for her to be right behind him. It would be very problematic to explain the fact that a woman is following him around the entire village as she's now his responsibility.

It had been three days since then, Neteyam had always thought to himself what was an easy way to say, "Leave me the fuck alone", not a nice way, he didn't want to be nice with her. He wanted to sound easy on the ears, but harsh enough for the conversation to get no farther than her understanding and leaving.

Then again, he's sure she wouldn't even understand what the word "fuck" means. It was a sky people term, and his parents had only used it whenever they hit their toe against something or messed up badly or were just upset beyond the point of explanation. His brother cursed often too, practically being more fluent in cursing than his mother's tongue. This is ridiculous, why is it that whenever he's so ready to get something for himself obstacles just throw themselves in his way.

"Fa'nyma" he spoke, placing his bow and arrow down in his hut before removing his headpiece, letting his braids rest on the side of his face before tying them back. She hummed in response, turning to him from the entrance of his kelku and smiling at him. "I'm going out somewhere now, so I'll need you to leave." He spoke solidly, turning his attention away from her when he noticed her cheeky look.

"Don't you want me to accompany you to wherever you're going?" She spoke, Neteyam sucked his teeth lightly before rolling his eyes. She must be one of the stupidest people he's ever met, even his youngest sister Tuk would know if he had said something like that, he would want to be alone. Did it genuinely look like he wanted her company? Or that he enjoyed her company so much he would've said yes?

"I don't enjoy your company, and I won't need it anymore." He said with an attitude, grabbing a small bag in the corner of his room and placing it over his shoulder with a clunk. He soon ushered her out of his room and hut before leaving himself, not even looking behind him to see her.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

"Y/n" he spoke with a smile, standing in the middle of the tree of voices. He had spent nearly all afternoon looking for you, now being nightfall as he saw you. Your back was facing him, but he knew it was you, he could tell by your scent, your hair, everything.

After spending nearly all of his time with Fa'nyma it was refreshing to see you, to breath you, and to touch you. He was quick to reach a hand out to your shoulder, watching as you spun around slightly for his hand to fall off your shoulder and back up slightly. You weren't smiling, which worried him, he wasn't sure what look you were giving him, but it wasn't one he was expecting.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, definitely taken aback wearing a confused but more hurt look on your face. After having such a passionate moment with a man, you weren’t surprised for it to end so quickly, what you didn’t expect was for him to leave you, especially for three days.

“I’m here to see you of course, I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, but you have no idea how happy I am to see you aga-“

“It’s been three days Neteyam.” You cut him off harshly, now beginning to become upset, he spoke as if no time had passed. “You kissed me and left me for three days, but it’s easy for you to walk around with Fa’nyma.” You said, earning a flared look from him at your last words.

He was quick to place the bag he was holding down, now holding both of your hands with his own hands. He looked at you with a look of desperation, pledging with you almost to hear him out.

“I don’t like her; it wasn’t up to me I swear it. I told her off this morning, I want nothing to do with her, only with you.” He said, smiling somewhat softly as you again to see you smile as well. He knew something like this would happen, he was ready for it of course, but he knew no matter how things would’ve ended he wouldn’t let you go.

He would apologize anyway he had to, such as bringing you gifts or flowers and fruits, maybe kneeling and pleading with you. He knew you well enough to know you had a soft spot for him, for everyone mostly. Maybe it was childish to feel a pang of jealousy broil in his chest over that topic, but he couldn’t help it.

He liked you, he really liked you, liked you so much he wasn’t sure what to do with himself and he would practically fuck himself over again and again. Maybe it was love, maybe he loved you, he had always had the perfect example of it growing now and all he cares about is making it a reality with you.

And he did just that, apologizing to you over and over and sitting you down on the glowing floor beneath the two of you as he gave you everything from his bag. He practically showered you in gifts you hadn’t seen before, small jewels and crystals from the star above as you had a wide smile on your face.

He had told you he wanted to court you, earn you the right way, in order to bring you towards his family, the proper way. He even slid in a joke about how if things had escalated on the beach everything would be entirely different now, making you laugh.

You were so beautiful, everything about you was so beautiful, your laugh, the way you fluttered your lashes at him as you listened to him speak, or maybe how you kept your skin in contact with his no matter where the two of you were. You weren't afraid to show him off or hint there was something between the two of you and it drove him mad.

He was so quick to mention your name to his family so often that they had no other choice but to force Fa’nyma out of the picture. He thought of himself as a bad person for a short while, purposely flaunting your capabilities and beauty in front of the other woman to watch her face stir with jealousy as he had a sinister smirk plastered on his face.

He must’ve been crazy, in both good and bad ways, but it’s deemed excused because he’s crazy in love, crazy in love for you. So crazy that now after just a few weeks of courting he’s itching to bring things to another level.

He was patient, everyone knew it. He was trained to be at such a young age, like when catching fish with his father, those lessons taught him nothing more than the importance of time. Good things come to those who wait, he had you, but to fully tie the bond between you two he had to be patient.

Love is something that can’t be rushed, patience is a large factor between two people, almost like a test to see what’ll happen under pressure. Sadly, as of right now it felt as if Neteyam was losing, if not losing his mind in the process. Laying on his bedside within his empty kelku, listening to the cold winds outside blow around it and pick up on the small, piped chimes outside his hut entrance his youngest sister made for him.

He couldn’t sleep, his mind was racing, and he felt so empty, and the thought of you was just making up upset. It stirred something inside him he couldn’t entirely understand, all he could think of now was wanting you.

No,

He needed you.

Attached to your affection and presence like a newborn to its mother or father’s skin in order to thrive and feel their love. He wasn’t sure why tonight was so different from the rest, but he couldn’t stay here, something felt off, so he did the only thing he could do and set out into the forests.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

A simple way of remembering people is by their scent, which Neteyam was familiar with. What he hadn’t been familiar with was your scent being so strong to the point where he paused in his steps and shielded his face, squinting.

It was strange he was able to pick up your scent here of all places, it was in the complete opposite direction of your home. So of course, he did none other than follow it to find you, but what he saw was nothing of what he expected.

“Y/n” he called out, removing his arm from his face to take in your state, hunched over on the floor by a tree whimpering. You hadn’t answered his call, and when he came to you and placed a hand on your skin you hissed at him, slapping his hand away.

He was appalled to say the least, your skin was burning, and your behavior was erratic, since when were you so defensive? A click quickly came to mind, you must’ve been uncomfortable, or afraid, especially to react that way with him of all people.

He was quick to scan the surroundings of the two of you to emphasize the fact that you weren’t alone, someone had definitely been here before he came towards you, lurking. Neteyam was quick to suck his teeth, already piecing together the situation playing out before reaching out to you again.

You were in heat, he felt so stupid letting it slide over his head as he had originally had it calculated. Usually within the middle of every month you disappear for only a handful of days before returning, only this time it seems to have come a little earlier than expected.

You had a shawl sprawled out to your side as you stayed huddled into a ball, fidgeting around as Neteyam made his way behind you, hugging you and rubbing circles into your back. Maybe it was because you weren’t in your best mind, but right now you felt like biting him.

Not in a bad way, in a good way, to draw blood and pleasure yourself, not necessarily to harm him. There was something about how soothing his scent felt that the scent of the other navi man lurking in the woods prior seemed to gently fade away. You paid no mind to him as you turned into Neteyam’s embrace, snuggling into his chest with a slight purr and whine.

You felt so hot, and itchy, the cool night breeze hadn’t helped you quick enough, but Neteyam’s body had. His chest was firm and cool, like how the ponds or lakes underneath the waterfalls felt, making you smile softly.

It wasn’t enough to stop your pain and itch, but it was just enough to calm you to a certain extent, his words slurring in your brain as he spoke. You had only responded with slight hums, not sure you’d be capable of responding back in sentences.

He was quick to pick you up to your feet, caressing your face and asking you something. Whatever it was he was quick to take your groan as an answer, now holding you hand in hand as he made his way through the forests, occasionally turning back to take in your ill state.

You weren’t sure what path he was taking, it certainly wasn’t the path to your home, or the main village, but the trees you two passed by before coming to a halt smelled similar to Neteyam. He was gentle, letting you climb up into an unfamiliar place before following right after you, his hand locking right back with yours as his other held your shawl.

He spoke to you again, but your ears remained out of focus, now picking up on the small sound of pattering coming from behind you. You turned slowly, your head hurting as you watched the rain fall. You turned back slowly, placing each hand on the sides of your head, feeling as if someone had taken a bone and hit the sides of your head repeatedly.

You only groaned, slumping over slightly before feeling Neteyam’s hands grab onto your side, ushering you further into the room and sitting you down somewhere comfortably. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, feeling his firm hands leave your body you shot them open, taking in your surroundings as you lowered your hands.

You placed your hands down at the bedside you sat on, dragging your fingers across the woven blankets. This must’ve been his home, the entire place was drenched in his scent, it seemed vacant and cold, it must’ve been the way he liked it. You were quick to bring the edge of the blanket to your nose, inhaling its scent with a slight moan, feeling a rush of adrenaline rush through your body and down to your core.

You lowered the blanket as you heard him returning shortly, crossing your legs and angling them in a position to give you pleasure. Biting back a moan as you clenched around nothing you watched as he came over, giving you a small bowl filled with water for you to drink. You smiled softly at him, taking the bowl into your shaky hands before he covered your hands with his before helping you drink it.

His hands are so large, just like you had remembered about him initially the first time he helped you pick out the fruits from the trees. They practically covered yours if not entirely in length, nearly striking a wave of embarrassment in you. As you finished you were sure he had told some sort of joke, pointing to outside before chuckling back at you.

You only batted your eyes and smiled even wider, nodding at him. You were sure that it had done something to him because he looked away and swallowed hard before leaving the room again. As he made his time quick he came to your side, now sitting beside you and taking your hands into his, speaking again, as your heat grew stronger another wave coursed through your body.

And of course you wasted no time turning to his side, resting your head on his collarbone and inhaling his scent. If you had some sort of shame left before your heat had stripped it from you there would be a possibility you’d have pulled back or apologized, but right now you just didn’t care.

His scent was driving you insane, practically flooding your mind as you caressed yourself into his skin with soft mewls and moans that echoed in his ears. He was more than flustered to say the least, but he had come to a decision on how to help you in any way possible. He simply brushed your hair away from your face to get your attention, which worked before he spoke in sure of you to hear him.

“Use me how you seem fit.” He said sternly, flashing you a toothy smile afterwards. He watched as your pupils blew out nearly full wide, no longer seeing the color of your irises before you turned your head back into his collarbone. You were quick with your actions, licking and nipping at his skin before making your way up to his neck.

A soft kiss was applied to a sweet spot before you licked it, prepping your canines into his flesh before sinking them in slowly. If it hurt it harsh enough you were sure that when you had sense again you’d apologize for it, just not now, not while you enjoyed lapping up the small trickles of blood that dribbled down his warm skin.

Not while you suddenly leap a leg over him, now straddling him as you continued to kiss him. He had barely moved as much as he wanted to, only following your lead and placing his hands on your back as support. He was quick to pull your head in for a kiss to your lips once you finished with his neck of course, this time being more forceful and sinister than the kiss you two had shared previously.

There was a small part of Neteyam that knew this wasn’t the right thing to do, at least some of it. You weren’t in your right mind and the two of you hadn’t been mated, well at least not yet. If anything, that small feeling quickly went away when he too felt himself slipping into the dizzy and foggy feeling of your heat now affecting him.

He had heard stories of something like this before, heats being able to spread towards one another to a certain extent. Things like that could only happen if that individual wanted to share it, and that seemed to be happening at this moment.

You wanted him to feel how you felt, understand how good it felt to be in this situation, as much as you itched or your skin burned, nothing could have been better than easing the pain with someone that made you feel so good.

You liked Neteyam, you were sure of it. Your family liked him too, he was considerate, gentle, humorous, and well put. He made you feel loved, cherished, and satisfactory; he could never say no to you and spoiled you with anything you wanted. Spoiling the one you love comes to a certain extent and giving them whatever they want comes with a price, like as of now when you began to untie your top and loincloth, attempting to untie his as well.

He was quick to grab both of your arms, bringing you to a short halt. You were completely nude now, watching as he took in your full appearance before looking up into your eyes. He was quick to shake his head, a signal of rejection to you, making you frown heavily and whine, tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

He spoke, not sure entirely what he was speaking of, but you were sure he muttered along the lines of ‘being responsible’ when reading his lips, the tears now rolling down your cheeks as you shook your head. There was no way he would leave you in a time like this after escalating the situation so far for the night, you yanked your arms from his grasp before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, whining.

“Please, please, please teyam, hurts so bad, need you, need you here.” You mumbled, grinding against his painful bulge from his shifted loincloth, taking his hand into yours and placing it over your lower pelvis. You watched as he groaned softly, turning his head as his ears flickered around, as if contemplating his next move. You were quick to turn your head in the direction his was turned too, kissing him first this time, wasting no time in forcing your tongue into his mouth.

He only melted at the action, quickly obliging and letting his hands roam your body. He was quick to squeeze you and tease you, letting his fingertips graze over your nipples as you moaned into his mouth, and he moans back. He kept his right hand over your breast, swirling small circles around your nipple and tugging on it every now and again as his left hand followed its way down between your legs.

Your moans now grew louder, more bass coming from them as they rumbled in your chest and throat, breaking the kiss with Neteyam as a small string of saliva was split between you too. You rested your head on the side of his cheek as your moans continued, rumbling directly into his ear, making his breath heavier than before. He only took notice to quicken his actions, his thumb circling your clit gently as his fingers thrusted inside of you.

This much arousal was getting painful in his case, he was sure he had never been this whipped ever no matter what woman he was with. You were so beautiful, your voice, your body, your movements had him captivated, if anything he wished he could stop time just for this moment. He could hardly even feel his fingers, the way they were coated if not dripping in your arousal he slipped in and out so easily it was insane.

What was even more foolish was the fact for just a split second he became jealous of his own fingers, wanting to be inside you himself with his tongue instead, but the way you fidgeted on his lap and begged for more he knew that was something to wait for another time. So, he continued, now drawing his full attention to your face as he watched your body shudder when he curved his fingers, his fingertips grazing against your insides.

He took his hand away from your breasts, now grabbing the side of your face and watching your expression, your skin was still hot, but that hadn’t bothered him. He was more focused on trying to not cum by just the sight of you. Your hair was a mess, your face was flushed and hot, saliva dripping down your lips wasn’t helping, especially when you were panting heavily like an animal with your hooded eyes.

And there it was, that cheeky little smile you do whenever you know you’ve got his attention, batting your lashes at him. He hated that you knew how to get to him so easily, especially at a time like this, it’s as if even though he’s the one pleasuring you, you were doing the same in his favor, and he was definitely right when he watched you come undone on his lap, practically shouting his name as your grip on his shoulders tightened, your nails digging into him as your body jerked forward, shuddering harshly as your orgasm washed over you.

You had no time to catch your breath as Neteyam kissed you sloppily, pulling his fingers out of you as you whimpered into his mouth at the feeling of the emptiness, clenching around nothing. You hadn’t pleaded or begged like before, only finishing your previous work and untying the rest of his loincloth before picking it up, watching as he sucked on his fingers with a small smirk.

You looked away nervously at his actions, placing his loincloth up to your nose and inhaling its scent, kissing it and tossing it behind you as you made sure Neteyam watched you. He only shook his head with a smile, his face flushed as he watched you, grazing his fingertips over your breasts yet again.

“Not satisfied?” He asked, cocking his head slightly to the side as he watched you, your eyes locked onto his body, trailing down until seeing what was hidden underneath his loincloth, making you shudder. After your intense orgasm prior, the heavy cloud of your heat wasn’t as thick as before, now you had at least a little bit of your mind left, now asking yourself if the size was too much to bear.

“Mm-mh” you muttered, shaking your head from side to side as you made your way to grab onto his sex, jolting slightly as you watched it bounce up to hit his lower abdomen. He only chuckled at you as he watched your actions, you had hardly paid any mind to him, now taking it into your hand and fisting it slightly, listening to his soft groans as the entirety of it was coated in precum.

You only smiled to yourself, raising your hips up high as you rubbed the tip onto your core, bucking your hips and moaning harshly as it flicked over your sensitive clit. As quick as the small cloud left your body it was just as quick to hit you, returning to your womb like a storm, making you chew down on your bottom lip out of frustration as you grunted.

Eywa, you felt so empty, as if you’ve been starving for days. Starving for a man to feed off of, starving for your man, your mate, to feed you. This was overwhelming, none of your heats had taken this much of an effect on you, and this physical connection wasn’t enough to share with him, you want him to see, hear, breath, and know you, not just feel you.

“Tsaheylu” you mumbled, reaching behind the back of your head to your kuru, bringing it over your shoulder as you looked down at him slightly. His reaction seemed to be one of surprise or understanding, you weren’t sure which to pick off of, no matter there were no words shared between the two of you in that moment, he only copied your movements.

Before the small tendrils of your kurus could fuse together, you sunk down onto him slowly, both of you breathy and sticky, moans mixing between the two of you. You hadn’t moved and neither had he, taking in one another before making tsaheylu, the same second of the bond between the two of you making you whimper as you rested your head on his shoulder, crying quietly.

It was so intense, as if flashing lights and music had been playing amongst the midst of everything already happening between the two of you. After a few seconds you could hear it, hear and feel how Neteyam felt for you, at first when you felt the warming in your chest you had initially expected it to be your heat, bubbling even harder now. That wasn’t the case, it was his feeling towards you, how his heart raced when he saw you or saw your smile, and how he felt now as he had you nestled on him.

It felt so nice, sharing this feeling and pain with another, lifting the burden off of yourself and having a mate to call your own. Before you were even able to speak Neteyam was quick to hoist himself up in a comfortable position, making you moan out softly.

“I know, I know tiwan. Gonna make you feel better yeah? Right here baby? I know what you need.” He spoke, placing his hand back over your pelvis and abdomen. The word he spoke prior sounded foreign to you, you could tell in the context it was a pet name, just not sure exactly what kind it could’ve been. Before you were able to pick up on that thought you felt Neteyam’s hands grab your behind in a firm manner before thrusting himself in and out of you at a kept pace.

You moaned into his shoulders now as he quickened his pace, making you clench around him. He didn’t like this position at all, don’t get him wrong you felt amazing, this moment was amazing, but he wanted to see you, see your face. He knew how you felt due to your bonding yes, but it wasn’t enough, he needs more.

Which is what led him to waste no time in standing up as he held onto you and turning around, laying you down as he towered over you, neither him leaving from inside you or your tsaheylu breaking. Cooing you as you whimpered and fidgeted against him, pulling him down onto you so you could inhale his scent from his side, but he wasn’t having it.

He rested in his knees now, thrusting into you painfully slow, listening to your groans and complaints with a grin. He liked being cocky, it felt good, especially if it got under your skin and he got to watch you react, it was amusing.

The longer the night continued the less amusing things became however, especially for the both of you. As of now Neteyam had lost track of time, and amount of positions the two of you had been in, but now you were on the floor, the room smelling like nothing but sex and sweat as you both moaned.

Neteyam had tried every other way to satisfy your needs without knotting you, but that’s all you had begged for at this time. None of your other orgasms being enough to get rid of the emptiness within you, he just hadn’t thought you were ready for it.

His last worries was getting you pregnant, it could only happen if he was also in rut, which wasn’t anytime soon, but knotting someone is dangerous (and also something he’s never done before). You were an animal, and that was no exaggeration, from the sweat and cum that had pooled on the bedside and floor your skin and fingertips had gotten wrinkly, along with Neteyam’s, but apparently you hadn’t even cared.

“Please, need it, so emptyyy” you whined, poking at the fat knot at the base of Neteyam’s cock that had been poking at your entrance for some time. Your face was wet with tears and sweat as you threw your fit, moaning as he postponed himself deeper in you to where his knot grazed against your clit.

In a matter of seconds, you were practically fucking him back, arching your back slightly as you pushed back with just as much force he thrusted into you. You could feel it, his knot was practically teasing you in a way you couldn’t explain, it felt like some sort of craze or rush that was driving you mad, mad in a way you drew a smile to your face, chanting praises over and over again before hearing a pop and a painful stretch.

Neteyam halted his movements, a loud moan escaping his lips as his knot had finally entered you. He had towered over you, his chest pressing against your back as you clawed at the floor in desperation. It wasn’t necessarily painful, more uncomfortable as it was a feeling you weren’t used too, and the cloud of your heat had covered most of it.

But oh how full you felt, the pain, tears, and cries from before all seemed to just vanish as you felt the knot lowering, now being filled with Neteyam’s cum at a quick pace. Now you felt full, and in the best way possible, it was all you had truly wanted and finally your needs were satisfied.

You sighed out in satisfaction, feeling him kiss on your neck and back softly before caressing your body. You purred back into him as you felt him move gently and slowly, picking the two of you up off the floor to his bedside, removing the dirty blanket from there before and laying there with you, still back to chest.

“Thank you” you said to him, taking his hand and kissing it with a smile as you felt him smile from behind you. He only played with your hair as he heard you yawn, taking in your small and tired state.

“Mm-hmm, so proud of you baby, did so good.” He spoke, placing a kiss onto your head as he drew faint circles in your back as he watched you drift off to sleep. He smiled to himself before remembering he was still stuck for a while, hopefully he wouldn’t wake you if he pulled out.

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missmoonfrost · 2 days ago

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Astronomy homework

@wolfstarmicrofic - January 28: First tears - Words: 515 - Warnings: Child abuse

Chilly night air blew in through the openings and ruffled the papers strewn about between Sirius and Remus on the floor. They had the astronomy tower to themselves, going over their star charts due on Monday.

Remus marked another constellation off, trying his best not to think to hard on why Sirius suddenly took his homework seriously. Truth be told he appreciated both the company and Sirius' subtle advice.

“I left more space between Procyon and Alnath, both Orion and Gemini go in between. But you could of course mark the area off and draw a magnification beside.”

Remus looked at his parchment. “You’re right. How in Merlin’s beard do you know the entire sky by heart?”

“I was forced to learn… you know.”

The peculiar tone of the almost question at the end of Sirius’ statement made Remus look up. He’d known from the beginning Sirius didn’t need half the time he did to complete this task. With the way Sirius’ wide clear eyes peered into his soul, he couldn’t pretend to believe it wasn’t something else that had brought him here anymore.

"I couldn't help to notice... some things..." Sirius continued.

Remus held his breath. Here it came. Of course, brilliant observant Sirius had put it all together. He never missed anything.

“How anxious you are before and how tired you are after. The bruises. Sometimes you’re even limping.”

Sirius slowly put his feather pen down and rested his hands on his lap without taking his eyes off Remus.

“When you go visit your family… what really happens?”

Remus couldn’t help but pull his knees up and bury his face against them. Couldn’t help but let out a sob, unbecomingly childlike for the twelve-year-old he actually was. This was the end of their two years of friendship. This was the end of his time at Hogwarts and his dream of getting included as a normal member of the wizarding world.

Sirius' hand awkwardly patted his back, then his arm wrapped securely around him. “It’s all right. I… My family. They hurt me too.”

Remus looked up, confused. “What? They do?”

Sirius gave him a sad smile. “They do.”

Guilt sprung up in Remus' chest and he pulled his arms around Sirius instead. Sirius was the one who really needed to be comforted. “Oh, Sirius. I’m so sorry!”

They shared a long warm hug, reminding Remus of home and the comfort of being a child curling up in his mother’s lap. He could lie. He could go along with Sirius' story. But that would be misappropriating Sirius’ trust. And he was so tired of sneaking and hiding, never fully able to make it believable anyway.

Remus wiped his tears and leaned back. “When I’m gone every month, I’m not visiting my family.

Sirius’ brows furrowed. “Then who…?”

“Myself. I am a werewolf.”

Sirius stared at him in stunned silence so long Remus started to wonder if he had made a terrible mistake before Sirius wetted his lips and spoke. “You… Oh… I’m sorry.”

They hugged again, tight and comforting. “Thank you for telling me.”

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar microfic #marauders #remus x sirius #sirius × remus

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k3nz1ekorn · 22 hours ago

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Real or Not Real

pairing: Jayvik (I literally haven't written anyone else)

Summary: In the infinite expanse of forever they need to hold it together. They only have each other now to keep themselves grounded to their new reality.

Author's note: Based on the one scene "real or not real" from the Hunger Games and the song "As the World Caves in" by Matt Maltese. Scene idea was from a tweet by @/yearnerjayce on twitter and the song was chosen for a prompt in my discord server's February writing challenge, 'songs that remind you of them' so I hope yall like it as much as I liked writing it! (Ao3 handle on profile)

Viktor had initially expected more pain. He and Jayce had destroyed themselves, at least he thought they had, and usually with destruction comes pain; some kind of sting or shock, an ache even. He almost wished it had been pain, truth be told. Wished it had been something other than whatever this was. Pain was familiar, expected, something sharp and authentic to him. It was something he could count on, something reliable even. Pain was like an old friend, it was to him as rain was to the sky, as grass was to fields, as the dirt under your fingernails, it was something he had just barely learned to live without. Familiarity came without hesitance, without uncertainty; undoubtedly, he thought, he much would have preferred the pain.

It wasn’t nothingness, not quite, but surrounding him was an infinite expanse of what he could only assume was the arcane. An ocean of stars and cosmos he’d never seen in life, be it in textbooks or with his own eyes; all beautiful and glittering, surrounding him like a blanket. It was surprisingly warm too, comforting even. All of this could of course only meant he was in a plane of reality he was not accustomed to. This was not earth, not their own galaxy, it wasn’t his familiar arcane realm of actuality as he’d had before.

Before.

This place was nothing like before he’d died that first time, before he’d been fused with his own creation, before he’d been manipulated by it and let it control him. To let it contort his ideals and morals, the very foundation of his being. He had thought at the time he was merely helping, how could he not?

That was all still before though. Before he’d been reborn, recrafted into something so unmistakable non-human he had been unsure if he had crossed the line of no return. Before he was manipulated into committing horrible, unthinkable atrocities, before he’d killed and slaughtered, led innocents to their death, let himself be taken advantage of and used to hurt everyone that he held dear to him. To hurt Jayce.

Jayce

Oh Jayce.

He was the constant Viktor had needed when they’d been spat out. His familiarity, his token of something reliable and sturdy, something from then.

Jayce had been there to calm him down when they’d been spat out here, when they’d realized they were still conscious, and more importantly; together. Jayce had talked him through the tears and calmed his racing thoughts to something a bit more bearable, something manageable. They weren’t gone though, far from it, however Jayce had always had a knack for knowing what to say to people. He knew exactly what to say to Viktor to placate him, keep him grounded; though he’s not sure that’s the right term to use for this scenario, what with the whole lack of ground part.

He did feel grounded though, wrapped in Jayce’s tight embrace. It was just as much for Jayce as it was for him, the former had always been a touchy man. He was clingy at the best of times and downright desperate for human contact at the worst of them, and with the events that had taken place, quite recently he might remind himself, he was sure the other could use as much physical reassurance as he could possibly get. Since the only other person around seemed to be Viktor he supposed he’d have to make due, have to make himself enough.

For Viktor the embrace was more to make sure neither of them floated away from the other. Logically he knew how to go about moving through the expanse around him, it was definitely similar to the one he’d grown accustomed to before with a few minor differences. It felt thicker, like he didn’t have as much control of his surroundings, and of course without the abundance of human conscious’ connected to it. He would not be over that one for a long while. Probably never in fact, he really couldn’t see himself getting over the literal mind control he’d subjected so many to, all in the name of ‘glorious evolution.’

He shuddered at the thought and felt the other man pull back a bit. He could feel his eyes on him, but he refused to turn his head up. He couldn’t face him yet.

“Viktor…” Jayce broke their silence and Viktor's eyes squeezed shut, “can we talk? It doesn’t have to be about…that…about all of this, but I…” Jayce let out a sigh and Viktor felt the hot air on his shoulder.

Their bodies were still warm? Interesting. Obviously they were not alive, did not need to breathe, and yet their bodies were producing hot air. He’d have to study that further-

He was pulled from his thoughts as the other man spoke again, “I need to hear your voice. I just need to know you’re really here.” This was something Viktor understood. He’d felt it since coming to his senses, the need to make sure this wasn’t just his own imagination, that he and Jayce were both in fact there and still together. Despite this he was still cautious, and he had to choose his next words carefully. It was barely above a whisper when he finally replied.

“I wish I could ease your mind Jayce, however I do not know if I am really here. If I am me. If I even know myself enough to be able to tell for sure.” He didn’t want to be alarming, but it was the truth. A part of him had absolutely let himself do all those horrible things. He had to be responsible for what he did, because what was the alternative here? That he had no control? That he was merely a spectator in his own body and his decisions were not his own? The thought of this was somehow just barely worse than being complicit.

“I could tell you…I know who you are.” The words sounded so broken, breathless and desperate in a way Viktor could vividly remember from his speech right before all of this. They were also full of the same conviction, like they were an absolute fact and Jayce was begging him to understand.

There it was again, the unfamiliarity. The horrors of the unknown, of the unpredictable. Something that made him desperately wish for the pain again.

“And who am I Jayce? How do I know which parts of me are real and which are made up?” He could feel the way his hands balled up into fists on Jayce’s arms.

“Ask me.”

Viktor sucked in a breath and let it out in a bark of bitter laughter, letting the words hang in the air. That was definitely Jayce, whether Viktor was really himself or not, this was Jayce. And he trusted Jayce.

“You hate the cold…real or not real?” His voice came out weak, almost a croak.

“Yeah. It’s real, V. You do too. You say it makes all your pain flare up, makes all your aches a whole lot worse. My mom made you special mittens to hold your cane though..to help.”

Viktor remembered the knitted red mittens Ximena had given him in the second year of their partnership. They were too big, cozy nonetheless, and he never went outside without them once the snow started to fall. He hummed at that before responding with a quick, “Thank you.” The silence overtook them again, just for a moment though before Jayce continued on.

“You’re a scientist.” A pause, “You’re an inventor, one of the best in fact. You like to sleep on the couch in the lab, even though you think I don’t know.”

If his heart could beat he’s sure it would have sped up at that.

“You take your coffee with the grounds still in it, your sweetmilk so hot it should really burn your tongue off. It somehow never does. You feed the group of strays by the greenhouse near the academy. You never accept physical contact when you’re upset.”

Viktor’s eyes shut and he let his hands unfurl over the other’s arms as he spoke.

“Jayce…” he said softly into his shoulder.

“You hate parties and public speaking. Not because you’re unable to do it or bad at it, but because you hate having to dumb everything down, make it palatable or sellable.”

“Jayce.” This one was a bit firmer, a warning. It did nothing to deter Jayce however, his words coming out just as firm as before, and a bit faster.

“You’re stubborn, once you set your mind to something nobody can stop you or change your mind. You hate being wrong, hate failing. When a rune or equation fails you stay hunched over your notebook until you can figure it out. It never takes you long though, because you’re brilliant.”

“Jayce-” Now he was frantic, it all felt like way too much all at once. None of it was surprising, but it was far too intimate. Too real.

“You overwork yourself, probably more than I knew. You don’t eat or take bathroom breaks when I’m not around sometimes, and when I am I have to remind you. You love being in water, say it helps take the pressure off your joints. You store half of your medication at the lab, in that locked drawer in the bathroom. I have a copy of the key on my keyring.” Jayce seemed to be pouring his heart and soul into his words. “You hate feeling weak.”

“Jayce please-” He pushed back to put space between them, to distance himself. He should have known Jayce wasn’t about to let him. The hands that had previously just been resting on his lower back now had a sturdy grip on him, one hand remained on his back and the other came up to his shoulder, to keep him from pulling back as Jayce knew he would try to do.

“You hate how your legs lock up when you sit for too long, you hate asking for help. You think you can fix all the world’s problems, I thought I could too,” Their eyes had locked at some point but Viktor couldn’t remember how long ago, “ but I meant what I said Viktor. All I want is my partner back.”

Jayce’s hand had come up to cup Viktor’s cheek, firm as if he thought he’d try to run away. He might have if the hand hadn’t been there.

“Jayce…I…”

There was silence. The two stared at each other as Viktor’s lip trembled, as he brought his own hand up to wrap around Jayce’s wrist. They held each other’s gazes, something silent being communicated in their eyes. Something new and unexplored. It wasn’t scary this time.

“You love me. Real or not real Vik.”

Jayce was leaning in, slow enough to give Viktor time to reject him, to turn away and show he didn’t return or accept his feelings. He wouldn’t think of it, not again. Not ever again.

“Real. So very, very real.”

They were barely a whisper away so close their lips brushed when Viktor spoke. Jayce closed the gap and it was like the stars had exploded behind his eyes. The force had propelled them backwards a bit, toppling through the vast expanse, still clinging to one another as if they would disappear if they were to part. Viktor’s hand had made its way up into Jayce’s hair to pull the other impossibly closer to him. Their bodies pressed together and limbs tangled until there was no indication of where one started or stopped, until they were one being in this void they’d been dropped in, just two lovers in their own personal galaxy.

They poured their emotions into the kiss, every longing look, all the words left unsaid, every what if was there, building it, filling them with a fire and begging them to not let each other go. There was no need to part, to breathe, no need for air now in these forms; the reality of this just spurred them on, lips melding together perfectly as if they were always meant to be together, to be like this.

Jayce pulled back and Viktor tried to follow, tried to keep their lips from parting, but the hand on his face held him back and kept him in place. There was barely enough room to see each other as Jayce spoke again.

“I love you too. I love you Viktor, everything about you. So so much-”

“I think I got that Jayce. I’m brilliant after all, you said so yourself.” He was teasing now, just a bit. How could he not? Jayce had always been fun to tease, and now he had the rest of this limitless existence to do so. To be with the man he loved.

A/N: written after an 8 hour shift, half an edible, in tears

#arcane #imagine #ship #jayvik #jayce talis #jayce talis arcane #jayce x viktor #viktor #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #viktor arcane #canon compliant #post canon #emotional hurt/comfort

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