#i remember this was very fun to write two summers ago

[javier-pena]

three's a crowd

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 9.9k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re in love with Frankie and he is in love with you, but you both have no idea how to act on it. Until Joel Miller comes along.

Warnings: friends to lovers | alcohol consumption | smoking | pining | jealousy | reader’s hair can get wet without it being an issue | Joel is kinda sleazy in this (but reader is very much into it) | mentions of cheating | protective Frankie | threesome m/f/(m) | a surprising amount of biting | the oral fixation in this is insane, I’m sorry | it’s all about hands and fingers | voyeurism | semi-public sex | cuck!Frankie but also not really (guess you’ll have to read it to find out what that means) | nipple play | (brief) fingering | (very brief) masturbation (m) | unprotected p in v sex | rough sex | spanking | orgasm delay | overstimulation | creampie

Notes: I started writing this fic in June and it was supposed to be a fun little summer thing and then stuff happened and now it's October - but here it finally is. There isn't really much I can say about it except that Dani @alexturner saved the whole thing by pointing out that the final fic wasn't really like what I had talked about while discussin the idea with her and after editing it, it's much, much better. I also had a lot of fun talking about Frankie's and Joel's backstory with you, Dani 🤭 maybe I'll write that one day ...

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

BEFORE

It must have been two years ago, or maybe it was three. Your hair was longer, you had just broken up with your boyfriend of five years, had just moved to a town where you didn’t know a single soul. “A fresh start is what you need.” That’s what your therapist said to you when you cried your heart out after Derek dumped you and moved in with his new girlfriend a week later. But she hadn’t been talking about this, moving halfway across the country, all the way from Maine, where the winters are cold and the air is always salty, to Texas, where it almost never snows and the tornado sirens make you run for cover.

That’s how you met Frankie, sweet, smiling Frankie. Your truck broke down in the grocery store parking lot and he jump-started it. He stuck out to you because he was wearing a pale blue baseball cap, bleached from countless summers under the hot Texan sun, and not a cowboy hat like all the other men around. You bought him dinner at that steak place that would become your favorite, and after three shots of tequila you opened up to him. He held you when you started to cry, took you home, slept on your couch when you asked him not to leave.

You’ve been friends ever since.

He showed you around San Antonio, he flew you to Enchanted Rock in a helicopter he rented, he even took you to Mexico where you found out he speaks Spanish fluently. He helped you fix the roof of your bungalow when it started leaking. You, in turn, took him to the cinema, made him watch horror movies that made him squeal, dragged him along to a rodeo, taught him how to ride a motorcycle when he told you he had always wanted to learn. The two of you just clicked. It felt right.

Now, after three years, you can’t imagine your life without Frankie in it. You don’t remember who you were before him, and you don’t want to. He’s your best friend, and you’re his. Where one of you goes, the other follows. And of course, people mistake you for a couple, of course they ask, “And what about your girlfriend here?”, they say, “You’re lucky to be dating such a nice young fella”. You always laugh, correct them lightheartedly. But sometimes you wish they were right. You love Frankie as a friend, more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but sometimes you want more.

You almost got that more about a year after meeting Frankie. One of his friends, Santi, was in town, and you went out with a group before taking advantage of the hot tub that came with Santi’s motel. There were drinks involved, one thing led to another, and suddenly you found yourself straddling Frankie, wearing nothing more than a bikini, your fingers tugging on his curls, his hands roaming all over your body. It didn’t go any further than that, and the next morning he dropped you off at your house with his usual, “See ya ‘round.” He never talked about it and neither did you. He was probably regretting it and you didn’t want to lose him over something like this, so you left it all unsaid.

He started dating someone soon afterwards, first Arabella, then Bessie, and you hated them both, even though they were probably decent women. Luckily, neither relationship lasted long because it hurt. You didn’t tell Frankie, acted perfectly civil around them, but it felt as if your heart had been dropped from a great height and had shattered against the pavement. You had to ease that pain with a couple of meaningless one-night-stands but they couldn’t take your mind off Frankie buried deep in another woman when it should have been you. And when you told him about Billy and Carson and Hank and Landon and Clara to provoke him to do something, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’m glad you had a nice evening.”

Frankie is single now, and so are you, and life is good. It isn’t always easy, but it’s a far cry from how it was in Maine. You’ve made peace with the whole Frankie situation, realizing it might just be enough knowing you’re the most important person in his life, even if you’ll never have him completely. This way, there also won’t be a messy breakup, hurtful things said in anger, actions you can never undo. You’re content with being Frankie’s best friend, and that should be enough.

It's summer now, one of the hottest on record. The AC in your bungalow broke and Frankie wanted to help you fix it, but then he got busy at work. That was almost a week ago, and you use these circumstances as an excuse to hang out at Frankie’s place as much as possible. He doesn’t mind. He has a big pool in his backyard that he always shares with you, and he loves your company. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s putting off fixing your AC on purpose.

You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, the sounds around you muffled by the water. Frankie is lounging in a chair by the side of the pool, resting in the shade after a hot day. Every time you glance over at him, his eyes are closed. That gives you the freedom to truly look, to see him how not many people are allowed to see him.

You take a deep breath and dive, floating weightlessly for a few seconds. It’s so easy to imagine this to be your life, Frankie to be your boyfriend. If he were, nothing would be different. You’d get to use your shared pool, watch him doze in the shade, help him prepare dinner later, laugh at his corny jokes … Your heart squeezes when you realize you have all of that and still it isn’t enough. What’s missing is riding him by the side of the pool, your bodies sticky with sweat. What’s missing is kissing his neck while he’s watching the brazier. What’s missing is knowing he’s yours and you’re his, come what may.

There’s a shadow by the side of the pool, and you scramble upwards, breaking through the surface with a gasp. “What?” you ask, smiling up at Frankie, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand.

Frankie gives you a thumbs up. “Just making sure you’re not drowning.”

You’re treading water as you say, “Would you jump in and rescue me if I was?”

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re a better swimmer than me.”

“I’d make it worth your while.” You wink at him.

He lowers himself into a crouch so he’s closer to the surface of the water, closer to you. “How?”

“Ever heard of mouth-to-mouth?”

He laughs one of those laughs that comes from deep inside his chest and shakes his whole body. “Leave it to you to make saving someone’s life sound sexy.”

“But it is sexy,” you say emphatically. “Imagine pulling me from the pool, your big, strong arms wrapped around me. I think you’d stay calm and collected; you’d know exactly what to do. Any woman who doesn’t fall for you after that would be a fool.”

Frankie dips his fingers into the water and flicks some of it in your direction. You squeal and try to duck, but the drops still hit you in a quick shower. “Shut up,” Frankie laughs.

You use your whole hand to try and shove the water back toward him. You miss. “Stop it,” you tell him, no weight behind your words, a broad smile on your face.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Don’t make me come in there, young lady.”

He always makes you laugh when he calls you that, the air of authority he puts into his words. You’re not that much younger than he is, but he always acts as if you’re 20 years his junior, while you have started calling him “gramps” to rile him up.

You propel yourself backward, away from him toward the opposite side of the pool. “You’re too chickenshit.”

“Oh, just you wait.” He starts to pull his shirt over his head, his cap that he always wears getting caught in the hem of the neckline. You really try not to but you can’t help looking at his soft belly, the white skin such a stark contrast to his tanned arms. You wonder what it would be like to touch him, what sounds he would make in response to the difference in pressure, if you were using your nails or –

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

You don’t mean to, but you squeal at the sudden appearance of a strange man next to Frankie. You were so preoccupied staring at your friend you didn’t notice someone else approach.

Frankie lowers his shirt. His cheeks are slightly flushed. “Joel!”

You glance between the two men, but neither of them offers an explanation. Instead, a heavy silence settles itself over this already muggy afternoon.

Finally, the stranger, Joel, speaks. “Is this a bad time or –?”

“No, no,” Frankie quickly assures him while you bite down a harsh, “Yes, it is”. Frankie runs his palms down his shirt, trying to smooth the creased fabric. “I just … I had no idea you were in town.

“Well, I am,” Joel replies in a tone of voice that rubs you the wrong way. “I thought I’d drive by, see if you’re home.”

Frankie glances at you, seemingly only now remembering your presence. “This is Joel Miller,” he says in an oddly formal voice. “We sometimes work together.”

“Hi.” You raise your hand out of the water to wave at Joel, the smile you put on not reaching your eyes.

If you had to guess, you’d say Joel was older than Frankie by at least five years, maybe even ten. He’s taller too, broad-shouldered where Frankie tends to fold in on himself. His graying hair is slightly too long, but his graying beard makes him look handsome, especially when he gives you a twisted half-smile as if he’s fully aware of what he just interrupted and is taking pleasure in your discomfort and annoyance. You want him to leave but with a clench of your stomach you realize you also want him to stay.

“She your girlfriend?” Joel asks without pretense, nodding at you in a way that makes you clench your fists.

Frankie chuckles awkwardly, a sound you only heard a few times before and always hated. He lifts his cap with one hand to scratch his scalp, then shakes his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Joel shifts, rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “Nice to meet you, just friend of Frankie’s.”

Can’t say the same about you, you want to say but if there’s one thing you learned from your years spent in the south is that there is nothing more important than hospitality. “You too,” you say instead, and start kicking the water, doing laps in the pool. If you ignore him, maybe he’ll leave soon.

But Frankie opens a beer bottle for him and Joel sits down in the lawn chair next to him, taking a big swig. You try to ignore them as best as you can, but you can’t keep your ears from straining to catch snippets of their conversation.

“… between jobs … just a couple o’ nights …”

“… go out tomorrow … bar in town …”

“… broke up with me ‘cause she … her friend …”

Sometimes Frankie laughs in a way he only does when he wants to impress someone. Usually, you can see it too, usually you admire the same people but there is something about Joel that makes alarm bells ring in your head. And you don’t like the way Frankie behaves around him. You don’t want to call it submissive because you hate that word, but it feels as if he’s putting up a front for Joel, not saying what he really wants to say, not doing what he really wants to do.

But then sometimes Joel’s eyes are on you, his gaze hooded, and he doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. There is something in the brazen way he does it that makes you crave more, and you’re a little bit disgusted with yourself for wanting that. You don’t know this man, and you don’t like what you glimpsed so far, but when he asks, “Any chance of you joinin’ us, sunshine?” you’re so very tempted to say yes.

“I wanna shower first,” you answer, pushing yourself up on the edge of the pool. Joel’s eyes immediately shoot to your chest while Frankie’s are glued to his bottle, his fingers busy picking at the label.

“Don’t keep us waitin’,” Joel says in a tone of voice that grates on you and makes you tighten your jaw. You want to flip him off, and he knows it too because he raises his half-empty bottle to you. You wish Frankie would say something, or at least acknowledge your presence, but a loose thread on his jeans has caught his attention now. Your chest tightens with annoyance and, even though you’re loath to admit it, hurt, and you huff at Joel before grabbing your towel and making your way toward Frankie’s house. You feel Joel’s eyes burn a searing mark into your back.  

You have no right to feel the way you do, you tell yourself as you work shampoo into your hair. Frankie can be friends with whomever he wants to. This is his house and he can let himself be treated however he sees fit. And you’re not dependent on him to defend you against a jerk like Joel, you can manage that all on your own. Besides, it’s not as if Joel is going to be around for long, he will most likely leave after another beer or two, so there really is no reason for you to get so worked up about it.

And yet …

You turn off the water with a quick jerk of your hand.

Stepping out of the shower, locating a fresh towel, it’s like second nature to you. You briefly bury the face in the soft fabric, inhaling the clean scent of Frankie’s detergent, a scent that will always bring you comfort. Then you pull one of the several dresses you keep at Frankie’s house over your head before using the towel to superficially dry your hair. It comes away smelling like him, which sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You’ve come to terms with it, you really have. Yes, you sometimes dream about kissing him, yes, you can’t stop fantasizing about what the two of you would be like as a couple, but what you have is nice. And it feels like it should be enough, which should count for something, right?

“Took your sweet time in there, sunshine.”

You jump, only registering Joel’s presence leaning against the opposite wall as you pull the bathroom door closed behind you.

“There’s a half bath next to the kitchen,” you tell him, avoiding his searing gaze. “You know, if you need to go.”

You try to scurry down the hallway and back out into the garden, but Joel pushes himself off the wall and steps into your way. “I don’t,” he answers. “I was looking for you.”

You sigh and look up at him, hoping he’ll notice your mild annoyance. “Why?”

“Frankie’s busy with dinner.” His gaze sweeps you from your damp hair down to your bare feet, widening as he notices your dress is slightly too tight at your chest. “And you look like good company.” Before you can come up with a snide remark, he’s two steps closer and his hand is suddenly resting on your waist, his palm hot to the touch even through the fabric. “You’re certainly prettier.”

The sudden contact, his brazen approach catches you off-guard. It’s been years since a man has treated you like this, and many years more since you were free to do with that whatever you wanted.

“Come on.” Why is his voice so low suddenly? “Cat got your tongue?”

You roll your eyes. “N-”

But before you’re able to finish the second short sound, the thumb of his free hand is on your bottom lip and he starts to pull it down. “Let me check.”

Before your brain can consider all your options, you bite down on his finger, hard, out of reflex, drawing a hiss from him. He pulls back, steps away, shakes his hand. But that sleazy half-smile is still firmly fixed on his face. “Oh, you’re a little fighter, is that it?”

You take a step closer to him in an attempt to intimidate him, but he doesn’t budge. “I just don’t like it when people touch me without my permission.”

“I bet that sweet little pussy of yours is tellin’ a different tale.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shove him, both palms hitting his chest, and he loses some ground.

He tries to snatch your wrist but you’re too fast for him. “Careful, sunshine. Don’t irritate me.”

“Why?” You push your chin forward in defiance. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, I have some ideas.” Joel reaches for your waist again, but you manage to step back quickly. He balls his hand into a fist. “I just ain’t sure you’d like them very much.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“I’d like to teach you some,” he shoots back.

The sound of Frankie clearing his throat makes you jump. He’s standing behind Joel, just inside the sliding door that leads into the garden, a cocktail shaker in his hand, an apron covering his chest. “Drinks are ready,” he announces, his voice tense. Then he turns around, leaving you to wonder how long he’s been standing there and how much he heard.

Your stomach curls tightly with shame. Not because of anything he might have overheard or because of anything you did, but because you liked the way Joel talked to you, you liked that he decided he wanted you and went for it. You liked being close to him, feeling his uninvited touch on your body, hearing him say those lewd things. And all the while you forgot about Frankie, for the first time in months.

Joel glances at you and some of the shame must show on your face because he says, “If I kissed you right now, do you think he’d punch me?”

And just like that you’re back to feeling the slow grating of annoyance, like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you huff before pushing past him and stepping back out into the garden.

The evening light is softer now, the heat feels less oppressive. The sun has begun to dip toward the horizon, and Frankie’s shadow is long against the grass as he waits for you to rejoin him by the pool. You want to put on your brightest smile for him, want to show him how much you appreciate everything he is doing for you, but with him you never have to pretend. Your face lights up when you see him whether you want it to or not, your steps quicken, your heart feels full of happiness. Even someone like Joel can’t ruin that, no matter how hard he might try.

“All clean?” Frankie has a lopsided grin on his face and a martini glass in his hand. When you nod, he hands it to you. “I made it just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, honey,” you tease and playfully kiss his cheek.

“This one’s for you.” Frankie hands Joel a tumbler full of amber liquid.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Just whiskey?”

“You seem like a whiskey kinda guy,” Frankie answers with a shrug before taking off his apron and hanging it over the backrest of his lawn chair.

“What are you having?” you ask, sitting down on one of the sun loungers Frankie keeps next to the pool.

Frankie lightly shakes his beer bottle. “I’ll stick with this for now.”

You glance from him to Joel and then back to him as both men remain standing, clutching their drinks. “Well, this is nice and relaxing.”

“Sorry,” Frankie mumbles and lets himself fall back into his chair. “Long day.”

Joel chuckles and steps forward, but instead of choosing the chair next to Frankie’s, he sits down on the sunbed right next to you. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes against your naked thigh and you scoot away from him, clearing your throat. Joel doesn’t seem to have noticed; his eyes are fixed on Frankie.

“You never told me you had a nice place like this,” he says, vaguely waving his hand at the pool and the manicured lawn. “I would’ve come over much sooner.”

“Where do you live?” you ask before Frankie can say something.

Joel chuckles before taking a sip from his whiskey. “You know what would go great with this?” He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his jeans, conveniently having to lean against you to retrieve it. You push back, refusing to make yourself small. He holds the pack out to you first, but you shake your head. He doesn’t offer it to Frankie.

“She asked you a question.”

Your eyes snap from the sight of Joel lighting a cigarette, the filter hugged firmly between his lips, to Frankie, who has his elbows propped up on his knees, a thumb and forefinger wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle, holding it precariously.

Joel takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. The smoke tickles your suddenly very dry throat. “I live here and there,” he finally replies. “Wherever work takes me.”

“Okay, so where do you currently live?” you probe.

Joel waves his hand around. “Y’know …”

“What he means to say is that he’s currently between houses,” Frankie clarifies, a slight tension in his voice you haven’t heard before.

“Oh, so you’re a bum?” Is Frankie’s face lighting up with satisfaction at your comment or are you only imagining that?

Joel takes another drag. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

It was bad enough that he had no regard for your boundaries when Frankie wasn’t right there next to you, but he can’t expect you to just take it now that Frankie is this close. You try to stand up, but his hand closes around yours and pulls you back down next to him, the force of it making some of your drink spill.

“Hey!” you protest loudly, but he only slings his arm around your shoulder.

“His girlfriend just kicked him out,” Frankie goes on, pretending he didn’t notice what just went down. “He cheated on her with her best friend.”

“Couldn’t have been a very good friend then.” You pick Joel’s heavy arm off your shoulders and let it fall down next to you.

Joel shrugs. “If I see somethin’ I want, I take it.”

“Must be lonely, going through life with that mindset,” you observe, watching him as he stubs out the cigarette against the tiles surrounding the pool.

“Depends on what you want out of life, I s’pose.”

You glance up at the slowly darkening evening sky, currently a soft, darkening blue, then take a sip from your very strong martini. “And what is that?” you ask, watching a bird glide across the sky.

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

AFTER

“Yes.” It comes out rough and breathless and eager, and suddenly your blood is rushing in your ears. You have no idea when the evening shifted to this, but you suppose it was inevitable from the moment Joel walked in. You just didn’t think Frankie would be the one to ask the question.

You glance at Frankie, sweet Frankie, who always respects you, always treats you like you’re royalty, and you see something in his gaze you’ve never seen before, a sort of strangled curiosity, like he’s desperate to find out where this might go, but unsure if he can handle the way there. You smile at him, and you nod, and his pupils dilate immediately, setting your heart pounding. That’s all he needs from you, and all you need from him.

Frankie puts his beer bottle on a small table next to his chair, leans back, crosses one leg over the other, ankle resting against his thigh. “Tough luck, pal,” he says, and next to you Joel stiffens. “You can kiss her though.”

For a moment, you’re right back there in high school, a bottle pointing at you, your friend Ines grinning at you from across the circle, Billy licking his lips nervously. But you’re all grown up now, you’ve played these games a million times, should know their rules by heart. Then why are your hands so sweaty?

Joel doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even wait for you to turn toward him. His hand is already at the back of your neck while your eyes are still on Frankie, and his lips have found yours while you’re still trying to decipher the look in Frankie’s gaze. The kiss is rough, almost unpleasantly so, and you can taste the nicotine and whiskey on Joel’s tongue that claims your mouth with hungry licks. Joel’s whole body is pushing against yours, and you push back, pressing your chest against his, making his concentration slip briefly. You use this moment of inattention to gain the upper hand and bite his lip, less violently than you bit his finger but hard enough for him to inhale sharply. Maybe even hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

Joel shifts, tightens his hold on your neck, and pushes up against you even more, like he’s trying to get you to lie down and submit to him. Resisting his efforts gives you a feeling of power you’re unable, maybe even unwilling, to control. You’re still trying to come to terms with the newness of the situation, with the shift that has taken place, but you know exactly what you want, and that is not to give up one inch to Joel without making him work hard for it.

Joel’s hand is on your naked thigh now, tough callouses rubbing against smooth skin. Just like his kisses, it almost feels too violent, but then you remember Frankie’s hands roaming your body in that hot tub, the way the water hadn’t managed to soften his skin. You remember how much you wanted him that night, and suddenly you wish Joel would touch you more.

As if he can read your thoughts, Joel’s hand is suddenly at the underside of your breast, cupping it through the fabric of your dress, his thumb finding the nipple so confidently as if he has touched you a million times before. Your body responds to the touch immediately and you lean into it, your lips parting in a stifled moan. The pad of his thumb rubs across your hardening nipple, rolls it through the dress and the bra you’re wearing, and you should push him away, make him feel like his efforts are futile and he has no effect on you whatsoever, but it’s been too long. Too fucking long. You’re on fire, unpleasantly so, feeling like you’re burning up too fast, like the flames have barely touched you and you’re already turning to ash. You press yourself into Joel’s touch as your jaw slackens, and he grabs your breast and squeezes it roughly while pushing his tongue into your mouth with the sole intent of making you gag.

“Hey!” Frankie’s voice is sharp, but when you flinch away from Joel and glance over at him, he’s still sitting in his chair holding his bottle of beer.

Your ears feel hot with shame as you refuse to acknowledge Joel’s presence and avoid Frankie’s gaze. Frankie was the one to suggest the kiss, Joel made the first move – then why do you feel such shame? Like you’ve been caught cheating? Why do you feel it’s wrong to –

“What?” Joel asks, interrupting the spiral you’re about to slide down.

Frankie squeezes the neck of the bottle, his skin making a wet sound against the glass. “We said kiss.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that sleazy smirk return to Joel’s lips. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little second base.”

Frankie seems to consider this, his eyes fixed to the ground beneath his feet. You wish you could tell what was going on in his mind, but your heart is still racing like you’re being hunted for sport and your body is screaming for Joel to put his hands on you again, and all of that is too much to read Frankie.

Frankie holds out a hand to Joel. “Cigarette,” he says, and Joel obliges. You watch Frankie light it up and take a deep drag, a sight so unfamiliar it makes you eager to commit it to memory. “So you really wanna fuck her then?” he finally asks.

There is a pressure low in your abdomen that makes you shift against the lounger.

Joel only laughs, crude and hoarse, as if deigning that question with an answer is below him. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Frankie takes another drag, a short one this time, before glancing directly at Joel’s crotch. You follow his gaze to find a bulge there, one that definitely wasn’t there before, straining against the stiff fabric. When Joel’s eyes find yours, you make sure he sees you lick your lips. His jaw twitches.

Frankie leans back comfortably in his chair, some of the ash from the cigarette landing on his pants. He brushes it off with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll let you fuck her. But you’re gonna do exactly as I say.”

You think you must have entered a parallel universe or another dimension. For a short while at least. None of it makes sense: the cigarette in Frankie’s hand, the way he talks and what he says, that man next to you who is nothing more than a stranger, who had his tongue in your mouth two minutes ago, and that all of this makes you wetter than you can ever remember being. But then Frankie’s eyes meet yours, dark pupils blown unfamiliarly wide, and yet there is something in them you recognize – this isn’t a stranger who is looking at you, this is your best friend. No matter what happens next, he’s going to look out for you. All you need to do is trust him.

Next to you, Joel shifts, adjusting his crotch. He licks his lips. “Yeah.” He nods. “Okay.”

Your eyes are on Frankie now, heart racing in your chest, mouth completely dry, as you wait for what comes next. Your brain is running hot trying to go through all the possibilities of what Frankie could have Joel do to you, but all you come back to is Frankie kneeling in front of you, spreading your legs. Joel is nothing more than a shadow beside you, watching with a hungry gaze.

Frankie leans forward and reaches out his hand as if he means to touch you, but then stops himself and leans back. “You don’t have to do as you’re told.” The softness in his voice catches you by surprise, but he goes on before you can analyze it. “To start, do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You glance at Joel, at how stiff his shoulders are, and you face him, trembling fingers pulling his shirt up where it is tugged into his jeans. Up and up you pull it until he has to raise his arms for you to get it off, and then you finally see his body betray his nerves as his chest flushes a deep red. There is a scar on his left collarbone, old and slightly brighter than the skin around it, there are some sparse, dark gray hairs on his chest, and his stomach is so much firmer than Frankie’s, so much less inviting.

Joel huffs and your gaze shoots back up to his face. “Kinda boring, don’t ya think? Pullin’ off my shirt when you could’ve done anythin’ to me?”

You won’t let him get to you, not like that, not when Frankie’s eyes are on you. “There’s no shame in me enjoying myself by taking things slow,” you retort. “I know your first move would’ve been to stuff two fingers into me but where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, you’re gonna see where the fun in that is when you’re comin’ ‘round ‘em,” he replies with that infuriatingly sleazy smile darkening his face.

You lean in just a tiny bit closer. “Only if Frankie lets you.” God, that thought turns you on so much your head starts to spin.

Once you recover, Joel’s right hand is cupping your jaw, his grip firm, while his thumb rests against your lips. “Someone should stuff that mouth o’ yours.”

You open your mouth then, until his thumb is only pressing against your bottom lip. You let it slide in past your teeth until you can feel it on your tongue, heavy, tasting like nicotine. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it, your cheeks hollowing, your tongue massaging it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. Somewhere to your right, you hear Frankie’s chair groan.

The sound of Frankie’s voice interrupts you. “I want you to take off her dress.”

With a wet plop, Joel pulls his thumb out of your mouth and then starts pulling at the straps of your sundress, pushing them down your shoulders.

“Slowly,” Frankie adds, his voice calm as if he’s talking to a semi-feral animal.

Joel moves you so both your feet are planted firmly on the ground, then shifts so he’s behind you. He finds the zipper at the back of your dress and begins to pull it down, torturously slowly as if there is something he wants to prove to Frankie. As more and more of your skin is revealed, he brushes over it, calloused fingers making you shiver. His hands feel so much like Frankie’s, and yet not at all like him. Frankie would be soft and gentle too, but he wouldn’t scrape you with his short nails, he wouldn’t tremble like it takes everything in him not to devour you whole.

The fabric of your dress glides down your shoulders and back, and comes to rest around your hips. It isn’t anything Frankie hasn’t seen before – your breasts are still covered, after all – and yet there is something in his gaze when you look at him, a strange kind of longing, like desire that has been kept in check for so long it has become second nature to him. You can see it in the flare of his nostrils, in the darkening of his eyes, in the way his bottom lip trembles briefly before he darts out his tongue to wet it. And yet he sits there, watching, his body unmoving like it has been trained not to give in.

“Take off her bra.”

Even Frankie’s voice is controlled and even. You shift, pulling back your shoulders and pushing out your chest in an attempt to get him to break, but his gaze shifts from you to Joel as he waits for the other man to follow his orders. Joel doesn’t need to be told twice. He flicks open the clasp at your back with one hand and your bra falls away. You push out your chin, willing your face not to heat up.

Frankie’s throat works as he swallows, a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall he has put up. “You’re perfect …” His voice, too, cracks on the second syllable and he coughs. “Wouldn’t you agree, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply. Instead, he cups one of your breasts again and squeezes the nipple tightly between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch you back as a small stab of pain shoots through you. Now that the protective barrier of fabric is gone, you can feel just how rough his skin is against your sensitive spots, how his callouses catch in places your own fingers smoothly glide over. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he pinches your nipple again, as he begins to roll it roughly, pull on it from time to time to hear you hiss.

Joel’s chest rises and falls against your back, hot skin pressing into hot skin, his breath caressing the back of your neck. He runs his nose from your earlobe all the way down to your shoulder, then back up again, but before he reaches the starting point, he sinks his teeth into your neck and bites down, drawing a shivering gasp from you. And then he doesn’t let go. He bites down harder, holding you in place, while cupping your breast with his entire hand, kneading it until your world tilts.

You’re not aware of how desperate you are to find purchase, but the garden and the pool and the sky above right themselves when your hand finds Joel’s thigh. The denim is rough beneath your palm, but he is a rough man so it doesn’t surprise you. What does surprise you though is how hard you have to fight to keep yourself from bucking your hips.

“Joel, stop.”

For just a short little while you had forgot Frankie is there with you, but his voice reminds you with brute force. And when Joel does as he’s told and you are left with nothing to distract you, all you can do is look at your best friend, at his fingers wrapped around that cigarette, and wonder what it would feel like to have him play with your nipple instead of Joel. The painful way your heart constricts at that thought utterly catches you by surprise.

Frankie takes a final drag on his cigarette, flicks the butt away, and clears his throat. “You’ll only do what I tell you to do.”

You shift, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against your clit sending a bolt of desperation through you, mixing with that unbearable longing to create a heady, dangerous cocktail. “Frankie, please.”

Frankie takes you in, and you have no idea what he sees, but he runs his thumb across his bottom lip and asks, “Do you want him to touch you?”

Joel runs his fingers up and down your arm, his touch so light it feels like torture. You try to squirm away but he keeps you trapped against his chest.

You exhale shakily. “Yeah.” There’s a brief moment of hesitation, one that makes your heart flutter as you decide whether you should keep going. You do. “God, I’m so wet.”

Joel’s wandering fingers close around your upper arm like a vise.

But Frankie keeps up his walls. “Show me how wet she is, Joel.”

You don’t think there has ever been a moment in your life where you were more turned on, a single moment where you were less in control of your body and your desires. You try to stand up, your legs trembling like you just finished a marathon, hands wrapped around your dress, ready to pull it all the way down. Joel doesn’t even let you straighten your back. He pulls you back against his chest and wraps an arm around yours before running his free hand down your stomach, not seductively or teasingly but as if he has a task to fulfill. You’ve barely registered the sensation of his fingers against your lower stomach before he has pushed them past the fabric bunched around you hips and into your underwear, and this time you lose the battle against your own body. You roll your hips into his touch as your eyes flutter shut, you push and push, moans and whimpers urging him on. He doesn’t need to be encouraged – he rolls your clit beneath his index finger, just like he rolled your nipple, before dipping it lower, pushing past the muscles at your opening and up into you.

Before you can make sense of it all, he removes his hand and holds up two fingers right in front of your eyes, glistening with your slick. Your chest heaving, you try to catch your breath.

Frankie’s eyes are wide open. “What does she taste like?” he asks, his voice rough as if he hasn’t used it in quite some time.

Joel rubs his thumb against his index and middle finger, toying with your slick. “Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

Frankie nods so slightly you can’t be sure it really happens, then hides behind a smirk, and you feel something unbearably insisting curl up tightly in the pit of your stomach. “You tell me.”

Suddenly, Joel’s fingers are at your lips, pushing into your mouth. You open up, surprised by the sudden intrusion, and then his thick digits are pressing down against your tongue, making you gag. Tears are filling your eyes, and spit drips out of your mouth as you feel Joel’s hot breath against the shell of your ear.

“Tell him.”

You can’t, not even if you wanted to. Not because you can’t taste yourself on Joel’s skin, not because you can’t talk with his fingers filling up your mouth, but because Frankie flies out of his chair, brow furrowed and fists clenched. Before he can come to your aid, you close your hand around Joel’s wrist and push his fingers even deeper into your mouth, not breaking eye contact with Frankie, not even for a split second.

Joel presses down against your tongue and you suck on his fingers eagerly, but none of that matters to you. The only thing you care about is the red flush creeping up Frankie’s neck and into his cheeks, and the way he keeps closing the distance between the three of you until he’s standing right there, close enough for you to reach out and run your hands up and down his thigh.

Frankie’s hand is warm and heavy as it closes around yours, pulling Joel’s fingers out of your mouth. You gasp, unable to prevent a thin thread of spit from connecting your lips to Joel’s hand. It winks out of existence a second later when Frankie’s mouth clashes against yours, drawing another gasp from you, one that releases months and months of pent-up longing, one that originates deep in your chest but almost dies on your lips, stifled by wonder.

It isn’t a soft kiss, it isn’t even particularly well executed since your teeth clash painfully and Frankie pushes too hard too quickly. He also tastes more like Joel than himself, of beer and cigarettes, but none of that matters. He could have given you a small peck on the cheek and it would have been the greatest kiss you had ever shared with anyone. You feel his breath against your cheek, a shaky exhale, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself fisting his shirt, fingers clenched so tightly you will never be able to let go again. That is all you ever wanted, all you ever prayed for, and now that you have it, you never want to lose it again.

Eventually, Frankie pulls back ever so slightly and whispers against your lips, “Summer, that’s what you taste like,” and it’s such a corny line it should have you rolling your eyes, but instead you crane your neck and seal your lips to his again, high from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth. He huffs and pushes up against you, but he’s not close enough – there’s still so much space between you. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt and pull him even closer, but suddenly rough hands grab your arms and hold you back forcefully.

“I wanna go first.” It isn’t a request, that much is clear.

Frankie pulls back and smiles down at you, his face soft and open, searching for any indication you don’t want to do this anymore. Even though you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now, the thought of him watching while Joel fucks you, utterly in control of the situation, makes you clench around nothing. Frankie can tell – he switches back to his neutral mask in the matter of a second. “You didn’t do as you were told …”

It isn’t a threat, but it might as well be.

Joel hooks a thumb into your mouth and pulls down your bottom lip. You try to bite him again, but he is prepared this time, holding you in place. “Let me come in her mouth at least.”

Frankie grabs Joel’s wrist again and pulls his hand away from your face. “No.”

You have never heard him use that voice before, that kind of voice that makes you snap to attention, that voice that commands people to follow him. You shift, trying to rub your thighs together, but it’s just a primal reaction you have no control over. All your attention is on Joel trying to pull his wrist out of Frankie’s grip, and on Frankie holding him in place, the muscles in his arm straining.

“I’m going to sit back down, and you’re going to fuck her.” Frankie’s voice is so calm it sends a shiver down your spine. “Slowly,” he adds, letting go of Joel’s wrist. “And if you make her come before I tell you to, there’ll be consequences.”

Every muscle in your body tightens. You’re too wound up to rationally consider what Frankie is proposing, too wound up to think about how much you want this and what that might mean. You glance behind you to catch Joel’s reaction, to see if he’s just as affected by Frankie’s proposition as you are, just in time to watch him lick his lips.

“And I get to fuck her however I want?”

Frankie’s gaze shifts to you. It’s nothing more than a glance, a quick check-in, and you nod, just as quickly, just as imperceptibly.

“Yes,” Frankie answers.

Next thing you know, you’re up on the lounger, knees and hands braced against the soft pillows, faded from long summers under the hot Texan sun, focusing on the sounds of Joel unbuckling his belt. You feel your throat tighten at those sounds, leather scraping against skin, metal clicking against metal, but your mouth is too dry to swallow. Joel unzips his jeans, then there’s a rustling sound, followed by a deep, needy groan. It’s enough to make your heartbeat stumble over itself with excitement. You try to turn your head and glance behind you to see what he is doing, but Joel catches your movement and forces your head down, firm grip at the back of your skull.

“Stay.”

To your right, you hear the sound of Frankie shifting in his chair. He doesn’t intervene.

Joel grabs the bunched-up fabric of your dress with both hands and begins to tear it with quick, jerking movements, ruining it. It falls away and glides down to the ground where it comes to rest next to the lounger, leaving you almost completely exposed to Joel. And Joel doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the thin fabric of your underwear aside and sinks into you with one deep, calculated thrust you can feel in your chest.

Your fists clenched, your head hanging low, you try to take it, but his thrusts send shudders of pain up and down your body. It’s not unbearable, and it shouldn’t surprise you; he fucks like he does everything else – rough and with an edge of violence to it – but the stretch is uncomfortable, and the thrusts are greedy, so much so you wish he had surprised you after all.

“Slow down,” Frankie orders, and you lift your eyes to him. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and when Joel does as he’s told, he watches you closely, searching your face for any signs of the discomfort lessening. You shift, your body adjusting to the feeling of being so full, and when Frankie asks, his voice low, “You okay?” you realize that you are. You’re more than okay, actually. Two more shallow thrusts from Joel and you’re completely relaxed.

“Yeah,” you answer, just for Frankie to hear and his lips quirk up in a smile.

“We’re good,” he tells Joel.

Joel’s open palm lands against your ass cheek catching you unawares, as does the moan you let loose at the sudden burst of pain. Frankie swallows, or at least you think he does – you can’t be sure with your eyes flutterin shut. You push back against Joel, eager for more, pulling him deeper inside of you with a greedy clench.

“The way you’re clenchin’ ‘round me makes me think you’ve never had dick before.”

Joel’s voice comes out restrained, the words are punctuated by more slaps, one harder than the last. Their meaning is lost on you as you are reduced to a babbling mess, unable to retain anything that is happening outside of your desire for him. You gush around his cock, hot and wet and wanton, and somewhere between the thrusts and the grunts, you hear a chortle.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya.”

That chortle is what pulls you back into yourself, and you risk another glance behind you, hoping that this time he will let you see. He does, and you watch him pound into you, both hands on your hips, denim pulled just low enough to free his cock, dark hairs curling just above it, streaked with bulging veins. He has one knee braced against the lounger, one foot firmly planted on the ground. You almost hate yourself for being so affected by that sight, but you can feel everything tighten, your body begging for release.

“Fuck,” you groan, your voice breathy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna –”

With a condescending smirk, Joel reaches for your clit. “Go ahead, sunshine.”

You close your eyes, focusing on how you’re clenching around him. You’re so, so close, you can almost taste the release on your tongue. Your mouth hangs open, a moan begins to emerge from someplace deep inside your chest and –

Joel’s hips falter and still, and you can feel yourself flutter desperately around him, but it’s not enough. You glide along his length, coming down from the edge, frustration blossoming in the pit of your stomach. Joel’s fingers rest uselessly against your swollen clit, still as the rest of him, and whenever you try to grind yourself against them, his touch lessens.

“Joel …,” you whine, opening your eyes to look back at him.

It’s not Joel your gaze lands on. It’s Frankie, standing right there next to the lounger, one hand on Joel’s head, fisting his hair, pulling on it so his chin is raised high, his neck exposed, a thick vein pulsing near its base. Joel is breathing heavily, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t try to free himself, while Frankie looks down at him, darkness clouding his features.

“You’ll do as I tell you or I won’t let you come inside of her.”

Frankie lets go of Joel’s hair with a shove to drive home the point. Even now, freed from his restraint, Joel doesn’t fight back. He glares at Frankie as if he’s imagining beating him bloody, but he does like he’s told, removing his fingers from your clit to dig them back into your hip. He picks up the pace again, thrusts a little shallower than before, drawing a sigh of relief from you, scratching that undefinable itch Frankie restraining Joel like that triggered in you. That itch you don’t want to examine too closely right now but that you know you’ll return to.

Frankie pats Joel’s shoulder, two firm raps against the straining muscles. “Good boy.”

You clench so hard around Joel he must notice, but he doesn’t remark on it. He resumes the steady snapping of his hips while your eyes fall shut and drop down to your elbows, those two words floating around your mind like an echo.

Good boy.

A desperate little whimper escapes you, one at least Frankie seems to hear, because he runs two knuckles up and down your spine in a movement that is meant to calm you but shoves you toward the edge with a violent jolt. He must know what he’s doing to you, there is no way he hasn’t noticed. And it should fill you with shame, it should make you resent him, the way you lie bare before him, showing him the most vulnerable parts of yourself, but it only makes you want him more. You open your eyes to find him standing right next to you. This close, you can see how tight his pants stretch over the bulge you hadn’t noticed before, how you think you can even make out a dark spot of precum forming against the fabric. You lick your lips.

“Frankie, please.” Your voice is rough and broken, laced with desperation.

Joel shoves into you so violently you feel the thrust in your throat, but he doesn’t say anything.

Frankie leans down and places a soft kiss against your temple, then runs his thumb across your furrowed brow. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You whish you could tell him you’ve been ready ever since he suggested Joel should fuck you, but you can only laugh, a broken sound followed by a hard swallow.

Frankie straightens his back, his eyes bright with excitement. “I see.” He makes his way back over to his chair and sits down, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “Go ahead, Joel.”

Joel picks up the pace, making every thought, every doubt you might have, instantly disappear from your head. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing you hard, and after that it doesn’t take long at all. After that, you let out a deep moan and push back against Joel so hard it makes him lose his rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. You’re coming, pulling him deeper into you as he fucks you through it, letting you squeeze him as you sink deep into pleasure, losing track of your body’s movements.

You come back to the surface when you’re spent, and everything feels sore and tender, but Joel doesn’t stop. There is a burning between your legs now and you hiss, reaching back for him.

Frankie is there next to you again, cupping your cheek. You have no idea when he approached, what made him leave his role as spectator this time, but you instantly relax when you feel his touch on him. “Just a little more,” he murmurs, calming you. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You watch him squeeze the bulge in his pants, and giving it another, harder squeeze when Joel grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back. The proof of how much he’s affected by you is enough to chase away the discomfort and rekindle the fire in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes glued to the bulge in Frankie’s pants you wonder what it would be like to feel him thrust into you, chasing his release, to feel him take what he needed from your body, fueled by how much you want him in return.

Finally, Joel stills and spills into you, groaning as his orgasm sparks through him. But your eyes are locked to Frankie’s, as neither of you dares to look away.

THE OUTCOME

The neon sign of the motel casts deep shadows into the cabin of Frankie’s pickup. Your gaze is fixed to the flashing letters, promising vacancy. A car rushes past, its tires whispering against the concrete, still hot from the Texan summer day. You try to ignore the tightness in your stomach, but when a door falls shut with a rattling bang somewhere nearby, you feel that sound like a punch to your gut.

“That was fun,” Joel says from the backseat. He stretches his legs, kicking his foot against your backrest. “If you ever wanna repeat that …” He lets the offer hang there in the air between you.

Frankie grabs the steering wheel tightly, the wood groaning under his skin. “We’ll know where to find you,” he finishes the sentence.

Joel braces both hands against your backrest and leans forward so his lips are close to your ear. “I think I’ll stick around for a while, so if you ever wanna grab some drinks, sunshine …”

Only half-listening, you reply, “Whatever,” fighting down the nausea you’ve been feeling ever since you climbed into Frankie’s truck.

“Whatever,” Joel echoes with a huff, opens the backdoor, and climbs out. “You know, I’ve had better,” he adds, before shutting the door with a loud bang.

“Hey!” Frankie barks, but you shake your head, and Frankie lets him walk away.

It doesn’t matter what Joel says to you. You couldn’t care less. Because as soon as Frankie starts the car, he’ll drive it straight over to your place, say goodnight without really looking at you, and tomorrow, he’ll pretend that none of this happened. Just like he did before. And as much as you hate that thought, you’re going to have to live with it.

As Joel climbs the stairs to the second-floor landing of the motel, you say, “You’ll want to take me home now, right?” It’s best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

The wood groans again, but this time from Frankie loosening his grip. He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his ruffled curls. You don’t look at him, but you study him out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his face. He puts the cap back on, then slings his arm across the backrest of your seat. “Actually … I was hopin’ you’d come back to my place.”

The nausea you’ve been feeling pricks up its ears with interest and then curls up into a tiny ball, tugged away in a corner of your stomach. “Oh?” you say. And that’s all you manage before he closes the distance between you, his left hand cupping your jaw, his lips brushing against yours, tentatively, asking for permission. You give it to him by fisting his shirt, pulling him toward you, by smiling against his lips, exhaling all the tension in one short giggle, full of relief. He strokes his thumb across your cheek at the same time as you open up for him so he can brush his tongue against yours. You find yourself mirroring him, hand on his cheek, thumb running over the stubble there, relishing the feeling of him being so close.

You pull away first, and he follows you, mouth slightly open, chasing another taste. “What are we gonna do at your place? Do you have more friends who want to fuck me while you watch?” you ask, high from the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, from that promise that he won’t forget about any of this in the morning.

A neon flash lights up Frankie’s face, once, twice, as you watch his cheeks darken with a flush. He takes his time, studying your face closely. “No,” he says, his voice a low rumble, so unfamiliar it draws a smile from him, “I want to fuck you myself.”

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dividers by @saradika-graphics

[azsazz]

Over Ice

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I think we could really have fun with the different courts and Illyrian values on a thematic basis but ALSO if the reader is in something very artsy and hasn’t really been into sports and then she’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!! She decides to wear Cass’ jersey to make him mad and when he finally gets a hold of her after the game: *cue innocent shrug* he asked me to!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3032

Notes: While I work on a plot for an azzy hockey x figure skater au, please enjoy a rhys hockey au 🤪

This was originally an Az idea but I thought it fit better for Rhys bby so here we are. I feel like I've forgotten how to write and this is shit (dont judge me im going thru smthin rn)

_________________________________________

A giant FU stares up at you.

Well, actually, it’s only an F, but it may as well be the former with the way it’s circled in thick, red ink.

Three. Fucking. Times.

Tears sting the back of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. It never feels good, failing, and even if you’d gotten a C+ like you hoped, you would’ve still beaten yourself up over the grade because plain and simple: that’s who you are.

Two months ago, at the beginning of the semester, psychology had seemed like a breeze. The lectures were easy to listen to and intriguing, and you had no trouble following along with the professors’ slideshows as you took detailed notes of everything on the screen. Your assigned readings were completed in a similar state, though they weren’t graded but included important information you’d find on the tests.

Somewhere along the line, your grade slipped, and you don’t remember if it had been between studying for Biology or reveling in your newfound freedom away from your parents, partying and enjoying a true college experience with your roommates.

Whatever happened, the repercussions are hitting you right in the face, the taunting letter you have never seen before on any of your assignments throughout all your years of learning.

If your parents saw this, they would bring the entire house down with their scolding.

It’s not like you didn’t try. You studied, even if the word is a loose term for what material you used. Things started piling up this month, with it being a new semester and all. You didn’t schedule out the time to focus on psychology when the classes you were really interested in—Introduction to Nutrition and Kinesiology—took first and second place for your attention. Plus, with the number of social events your best friends—who are also conveniently your roommates—invited you too, it was almost impossible to say no. Friends are a vital part of the college experience and you were in desperate need of some fun after having spent the summer lounging at home with your parents.

You found a psych support group that met at the library once a week to study together. It wasn’t anything like you thought it would be, a bunch of clueless students with grades similar to yours. All they seemed to want to do with your precious time was bitch and moan about the professor instead of actually trying to conquer the areas of study for the upcoming test.

And now the consequences of your actions have made themselves known.

Grumbling, you shove the test into your binder before shutting it with a snap that does nothing to ease your frustration. A few students still trail from the room, though most bolted right after being released. Some linger at the bottom of the lecture hall where the professor sits, answering their questions.

You have about a million-and-one of your own but you’re too worked up about your grade to go down there and hash it out with Mr. Hybern. His peppery colored hair is perfectly coiffed on this terrible day, his beard trimmed close to his jowls. His gleaming, golden skin makes you think that maybe he’d spent his weekend grading tests out in the sun, and you have half a mind to stomp your way down the stairs and demand a second review of your test.

It wouldn’t solve your irritation, and it would certainly be embarrassing if in fact your F is correct.

Placing your binder, notebook, and pens back into your bag, you zip it, sling it over your shoulder, and make your way to the exit, holding your chin high because if there’s one thing you’re not going to do, is cry over your terrible, awful grade in public.

The waterworks will just have to wait until you’re locked in your private bedroom in your shared dorm.

There is good news. It’s Friday, which means you can snag the pint of your favorite ice cream that your roommates won’t dare touch because ‘no ice cream that’s worth it should have fruit in it, that’s like asking for a steak on your spaghetti.’ You have no idea what Mor—one of your roommates—was on about when she brought up the awful comparison, and in reply all you’d done is scooped out a chunk of cherries embedded into the creamy, pink goodness and stuffed it into your mouth.

With it being the weekend, you can also wallow well into the night without having to worry about hiding your puffy eyes in the morning. You’ll have all day tomorrow to figure out a plan of action, once you allow yourself the time to properly grieve and process…and maybe have a drink or two.

You shoulder through the heavy lecture hall door with your head down, hiding the red stain to your cheeks. So, maybe you’re not going to hold you head high as you trail back to your dorm, but you will not cry.

The door swings open and you barely catch the noise of surprise before you’re barreling into something that’s akin to a brick wall. Your breath leaves your body in a whoosh and your balance slips out from under you, arms flailing as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never comes.

Slowly, mortified because you know exactly what’s cushioned your fall, you peek your eyes open, carefully meeting a sapphire gaze that surely would take your breath away should you have any left.

This close, you can see the perfection of his angular features: a long, straight nose, high cheekbones under the dusting of pink that caresses his own face. His lashes are dark as charcoal, the same color of his hair that looks as soft as silk.

Whatever it is that has you entranced by his beauty, the sentiment seems to be mutual. Those bright eyes trace across your features, carefully drinking you in. You don’t know if you’re thankful that your face is already as red as the marker on your test or if you want him to see the way your cheeks go molten.

There’s a warmth against your hips that you don’t notice until he speaks, his hands that have a solid grip around you, keeping you steady to his chest. His whispered breath brushes across your lips. “By all means,” he teases softly, “Take your time.”

“Oh, my Gods, I am so sorry,” you squeak, rolling off his chest. You can hear his chuckling as you scramble to climb to your feet, but your knees are so weak at the sight—and touch—of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lifting gracefully to his feet, holding a hand down to help you up.

You try not to notice just how big his hand is in yours, and for the second time today, you fail.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says, displaying an easy grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. The door opens with a loud click and the both of you startle. His hand comes down warmly on your spine, ushering you out of the way of the student that’s beaming grin falters into apology at the idea of almost running you down, already on the phone with someone and gushing over their test result.

It’s hard to reign in your glare.

The student’s conversation seems to jolt the man out of his stupor. He blinks, shaking his head as if to rid him of a spell you might have cast on him, or maybe he’s testing to see if he has a concussion from the fall.

When he returns his attention to you, it takes everything in your power not to melt into a puddle beneath that gaze.

“Is Mr. H still passing out tests?” he asks, and you swallow the sourness that accompanies the name of your professor. You and he are not on good terms right now, not that this boy knows that.

“Yeah,” you answer, remembering you saw him sitting on his throne (desk chair) with his loyal citizens (students) kissing his feet (talking through their tests). “I think so.” Then, because you’re pretty sure you would remember a face like his if he were in your lecture, you ask, “Are you in this class?”

“No,” he answers with a scoff that tells you he breezed by this class. “I took Psych 101 freshman year, but I have Professor Hybern again for Cognitive Psychology and I need to turn in my paper early.”

Turning in a paper early? What is he, some kind of genius?

“Oh,” you answer lamely, “Cool.”

His answering grin cracks open the casing of the butterflies you didn’t know were living in your stomach, taking off in a flurry of emotion.

He shrugs like he couldn’t really care less about any of it, but to you, the fact that he’s managed to pass Psych 101 at all is an impressive feat, though you don’t know why he’d sign up for even more torture. “Sure. Look, I’ve got to run, but are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s nice of him to ask if you’re okay when he’s the one who had his back painted to the floor only moments ago. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I should be the one asking you that. Are you okay?”

His laughter is rich and warm, and you want to melt into it. Before you have the chance to make even more a fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger, he answers. “I’ve been checked harder, darling. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too,” your words trail off as he catches the door on its next outswing, ducking inside without waiting for your response.

Jeeze, he must really be in a rush, then.

It’s when you exit the doors to the psychology building that you curse yourself. You should’ve gotten his number, his name at least. You could’ve invited him over for something more distracting and yummier than the ice cream you’d planned on demolishing.

At least you have something better to think about tonight than your test.

With a heavy sigh, you allow your backpack to fall off your shoulder. Now that you’ve arrived back to your dorm, you’re suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever.

The walk home from class had been nice, your time spent thinking about the boy you’d run into. The broadness of his shoulders you didn’t seem to notice until he turned away, stretching wide beneath his tight t-shirt. The bulge of his biceps beneath said t-shirt, flexing as he pulled the door open for himself. The shape of his ass in those snug jeans.

The sight of that is what had your eyes nearly popping from your head. What’s he doing that gives him such a bubblicious ass? Squats? Lunges? You can do those. You choose not to, but if there’s a guarantee that you’d have an ass like that, you’d start right this second.

Tucking your lip into your mouth in concentration, you plant your hands on your hips, making your way to the refrigerator that your ice cream is housed in, lunging your way there.

It’s not that far, the communal space in your shared dorm is small, but your heartrate is elevated by the time you’re two lunges away from your prize: your ice cream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mother!” You shout as the voice of your roommate breaks your concentration. Your knees wobble and your thighs shake, unable to hold you up from the burst of exertion you used. You clearly need to get into the gym more, another thing to add to your already busy schedule. “You scared me!”

Mor rolls her chocolate-brown eyes, sliding into one of the stools at your counter. It’s not built for it, the laminate countertop doesn’t hang over the island far enough for your legs to fit, but you and your roommates thought they were cute, nonetheless. You can suffer having to hunch over your knees to reach your cereal bowls in the mornings in favor of having more space for company to sit.

When you haul yourself off the ground, you take in your roommate. She’s wearing some kind of jersey, one you’ve never even seen in her wardrobe before, and you probably spend more time in there than her because she has every item of clothing you could ever imagine. The top she’s wearing now totally clashes with everything that screams Mor: silk scarves, tight bodice tops, leather pants, and what she has on now isn’t even red, a color that’s a staple in her closet.

“Well, if you were paying attention,” she scolds playfully, flipping open the compact in her hand, checking her makeup in the tiny mirror. She makes a few faces that would make you chuckle if you didn’t notice how she looks like she’s ready to go out, and that means she’s going to try to drag you with. “You would’ve heard me walk into the room. I am wearing heels, you know.”

Of course you know. Mor doesn’t do sneakers, only when it’s five in the morning and the sun is still sleeping, the perfect time for working out where nobody will catch her. Maybe I should join her, you think, mind wandering back to that boy’s butt.

“Why are your cheeks all red?” She asks, planting her palms on the counter and leaning towards you, eyes narrowed in inquisition.

“Nothing,” you wave her off, reaching for the door to the freezer. It’s the last thing between you and the cherry chunk ice cream calling your name.

Before you can open it more than an inch, it slams closed, Mor’s sharp, bright red fingernails splayed out to stop you.

Damnit, how does she move so silently?

“What do you think you’re doing?” You question each other at the same time, biting back your smiles at the mistake.

She answers first. “Why do you look like you’re about to get the ice cream, put your pajamas on, and wallow in bed all night?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” you cross your arms over your chest defiantly. “So, if you’ll excuse me…” You trail off, hoping she’ll step away and leave you to your peace.

She doesn’t. That’s not Mor.

“I had a rough day!”

“You say that every day,” she whines, stomping her heel-clad foot. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m inviting you to tonight?”

“From the look of your clothes, no, I don’t want to know what you’re doing tonight, Mor, and no, I don’t want to join you, either.”

Your roommate scrunches her nose, tipping it towards the ceiling. “I’ll have you know that this outfit is cute.”

“Yeah, if the definition of cute changed to ‘not pleasing or appealing to look at.’”

“You take that back,” Mor shouts, full naming you.

As your lips part in apology, because that was rude of you, your other roommate pads out of her room. Her reading glasses are perched up on her nose, blue eyes round and wide, and it always looks like she’s looking around the room in wonder. She has a blanket thrown over her shoulders and looks every bit of cozy you wish you were.

“Gwyn,” you sigh in relief at the sight of her. “Please, help.”

“I already said no,” she offers you a sympathetic wince. “I don’t think there’s any getting you out of the hockey game, sorry babe.”

Now it’s your jaw that falls to the floor. No, it falls through the floor and about five more floors down, hitting the lobby with a crack that echoes through the building.

You whirl on Mor. “Hockey game? Since when have you been interested in hockey?”

“Since my cousin got named team captain this year,” she says smugly, and you don’t know why she’s acting vain, it just means that he’s captain of the douchebags now, even you know that. Mor turns, showing off the back of her jersey. The number one stands out like a beacon, and you brush her blonde hair over her shoulder to read the smaller patches spelling out what is in fact, her family name.

Cunningham.

“Think of all the parties we’ll get into,” she says over her shoulder, and she does have a point there. The athletes at your college are a group of students that you don’t ever interact with, nor do you care. Mor is all about connections though, and if she wants to go to the hockey game, then it looks like you’re going with her.

You wonder what excuse Gwyn used to get out of it. She looks mighty comfy right now, slinking over the plop down on the couch and turn on a movie.

“Why do we have to go to the game? Can’t we just go to the parties?” You ask, grasping for anything to get out of this. You don’t want to go sit in the cold arena and watch a bunch of guys wearing full-body padding slide up and down the ice. Why couldn’t her cousin have been on the baseball team? They have nice, tight uniforms.

“Because,” Mor emphasizes with a glare, spinning to face you once more to give you the full effect of her irritation. “I’m a good cousin, and if we don’t attend the games, we’re going to be blacklisted from the parties,” she grumbles, the fight leaving her a little bit. “I’ve already argued about it with Rhys, I don’t want to have to argue with you too.”

It’s with your sigh that Mor brightens. “Fine. I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to be happy about it. And don’t expect me to cheer.”

Her squeal pierces the sound barrier. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Mor grabs your hand, dragging you towards the empty single room that’s left in your dorm. She uses it as an extension of her closet until someone else gets placed with you. So far, you’ve been lucky, living here since freshman year, just the three of you. “Great! I got you a shirt!”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

[rapunzelbro]

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |2| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This chapter is a flashback. So are the others. Enjoy! It's super long lmao

Story Guide

It was the Summer of 1972 when you first met Stanford. You remember it almost all too well. You went to a college for the arts, majoring in music composition. Oh! And you were in a band! It was not good by any means, you all were figuring this out as you went but you were all having fun so it didn’t really matter to you. It’s kinda funny looking back on how the two of you somehow became a couple considering how different the two of you were.

You two only met after you accidentally stumbled in his room one night after you partied too hard at someone else's dorm. You thought his room was your friend's room. His dorm had books scattered around, posters of some scientists on the wall and an absolute mess of notes on his desk. Stanford did not want to spend his night with some random drunk girl in his dorm, but he knew he had to let you in, not trusting what any of the other men on the campus would do if they saw you like this. He didn’t know why you made him so flustered, maybe it was your vulnerable state, or just because you were a girl, talking to him.

It was probably both.

“You know, I never wanted to go to this, it was some promotional stuff for my band. Did I tell you I was in a band? We are amazing!” You were laying on the floor staring at the ceiling smiling goofily, flipping onto your stomach to look at the flustered man whose dorm you broke into. He took a glance over his shoulder to look at you, trying to tell you he was listening, even if you didnt care if he was or not. “Okay so that might be a lie, Gabs is super pitchy, Jamie is still figuring out the drums but that's besides the point..I met you by going to this!” you finally sat up running a hand through your hair “You're so dorky it's kinda cute” you let off a soft giggle pointing at him.

This made Stanford physically freeze, his breath hitching slightly “Thank you I suppose, Are your friends looking for you?” He quickly changed the subject, turning around in his chair, looking at you “I think, I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here with you” you smirked. “Well I-” he started before he heard a female voice yelling in the hallway “Y/N! We gotta go!” “Oh that's Gabs! She’s my friend!” You stumbled up before heading towards the door, pausing before going back over to the man kissing his check with a giggle, causing Stanford's face to turn bright red “Thank you for saving me! I’m Y/n by the way!” “Um… It's Stanford, Call me Ford..” he managed to get out, quickly writing the phone number to the telephone that was in his room, down on a piece of notebook paper. “Just.. Call me when you get to your dorm safe..” he quickly turned back to face his textbooks he had his nose buried in hours ago “Aw you care about me… Okay loverboy. Seeya around!” you poked his shoulder before leaving, yelling at your friend ‘Gabs’ to get her attention

Ford had no idea why he did that, he never had the balls to do this sort of thing. Especially with someone as beauti- No why the hell was he having these thoughts? You weren't going to call him. He has to forget about this encounter, he concluded, going back to his uneventful night.

He got a call the next day, it was you. There was some sort of music in the background, he couldn't place what it was, some pop music maybe. “Oh my gosh is this Ford? I kinda crashed at your dorm last night, I am sooo sorry I am super embarrassed.” you rambled on before Ford let off a slight chuckle “No it's fine. I’m glad you're safe, you seemed very out of it last night” he leaned back in his chair slightly as he spoke “Ugh don't get me started about the hangover” you groaned causing him to laugh.

After that was the beginning of a relationship, you spent your off time together, he helped you with classes and you expanded his music taste, well tried to at least.

It's been 4 months since you two started dating. Ford even told his brother about this, and to say Stanley was shocked was an understatement, he rushed over surprising Ford “So you finally found a girl who doesn’t run off screaming? Tell me all about her” Stanley smirked looking at his twin brother, noticing a photo of you on his desk in a frame, you had a microphone in your hand giving a peace sign to the camera with your other hand. How the hell did his brother score you? Ford went off to ramble about you, he was a love sick mess, but the way his eyes kept shifting to the photo of you when explaining you made Stan confused, why did he have to keep looking at it to talk about you?

He noticed a few flyers to some music festivals, they looked untouched. “Who gave you these?” he picked one up, the show was for tonight, in a few hours. “Oh Y/n did. She’s in a band” Ford looked at the flier before directing his attention back to the textbook that was in front of him “You plan on seeing her right?” Stan raised an eyebrow looking at his brother “Too busy, I have an exam tomorrow” Ford shrugged it off flipping to the next page in his book “You’re joking right? Have you been to any of her shows?” Stan narrowed his eyes in disapproval, Ford didn't say anything “Some boyfriend you are” He muttered looking down at the flier in his hands. He knew what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let Ford ruin the only potential relationship he would probably ever have.

Taglist: @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment

[kaiserthread]

shopping spree pt.2

clothes/accessories the bllk boys buy you! characters: nagi, oliver, rin content: pro players, established relationship, f!reader, slight implied nsfw in olivers part (nothing graphic but just in case) part 1 here! tysmmmmmm for the love on part 1!!!!! this one was so much fun to write

NAGI SEISHIRO - couples pajama sets 

loves sitting around the house with you on his off days

values every minute he can get with you 

buys it with the express purpose of seeing you wearing one of his shirts

gives you the shirt from his set and lazes around shirtless

seishiro’s free time has always been very precious to him, even more so now that his schedule is jam-packed with matches, press appearances, traveling, so much practice, and most importantly, you. he’s perfectly content with spending all his off days with his lover. which is exactly why he couldn’t resist buying the cute couple pajamas when he was supposed to be buying groceries. you can’t even find it in yourself to scold him for forgetting the frozen blueberries when he pulls the pajamas out of their bag and presents them to you with a small smile on his face. “i’m letting you off easy this time, sei. only because you’ve been gone for a while.” you say, reaching up to pinch his cheek. “mkay, i’ll remember next time, promise. but only if you match with me tonight.” he says as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “alright fine, since you asked so nicely.” you huff, grabbing the pajamas and making your way towards your bathroom to shower. seishiro is lounging around in his new pajama pants when you step out of the bathroom. “sei, what happened to matching?” he turns his attention away from his phone, passes you his pajama shirt and says, “you always look better in mine, sweetheart.”

OLIVER AIKU - bikini

he likes looking at women in swimsuits, trust he’s gonna know the latest and most flattering styles

he just wants you to look your best when y’all go on vacay together!

reminds him of how you two met

“oliver! come tie the strings on this for me.” your voice rings out and oliver comes running to help. he takes the strings and gently ties them into a neat knot. “you look so pretty, baby.” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck before wrapping his arms around your waist and admiring you in the mirror in front of him. “doesn’t this remind you of how we met?” you giggle, turning in his arms to rest your forehead against his. “how could i ever forget?” he questions, thinking back to that incredible summer several years ago. high off his first big win in the pro leagues he’d found himself on vacation at the beach. you were there for a friend's wedding, fresh off a disastrous breakup with your ex. he’d charmed you with compliments and the two of you stumbled into bed together on several occasions before parting ways, but not before swapping numbers and promises to keep in touch. the two of you made things official the following summer and ever since then going to the beach every summer has become a tradition. “meeting my summer fairy was the best thing to ever happen to me.” he says before pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

ITOSHI RIN - evening gown

you're his princess ofc he's gonna buy you a dress to fit that title

studies your wardrobe for a while to make sure he’s getting one with a good color and a fabric that doesn’t bother you 

he browses for so long that he just says fuck it and goes to a designer to have one custom made

rin honestly can’t believe this, isn’t paris supposed to be known as a fashion powerhouse? the fact that he can’t find something perfect for his princess is beyond ridiculous. he gives up after weeks of browsing and calls in a favor from a manager at the club who has connections to a renowned designer who’s willing to make him exactly what he’s looking for. a few weeks later he’s handing you an extravagantly wrapped box, “an early christmas present.” he explains. you open it and pull out a beautiful floor length gown. “rin it’s stunning!” you throw your arms around his neck before rushing away to try it on. “come zip me up?” you ask, and rin complies, walking over to you and zipping the dress up. “it fits perfect rin, did you get this tailored?” you question. “i had it made just for you, the stores didn’t have anything nice.” rin responds, sweeping you off your feet. “only the best for my princess.”

[fortheloveofwonderland]

In This Diary | S.R

Summary - The summer of ‘02 was supposed to be just like any summer that had come before. Spencer Reid was mostly hoping to relax before his started his new job at the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the fall. But best laid plans often go awry.

Now all these years later he’s come into possession of the diary he kept during that time and he’s forced on a trip down memory lane to a perfect Las Vegas summer in which he fell in love for the very first time. But if he’s not careful, he might allow himself to get so lost in his nostalgia he may not be able to drag himself back to the present.

A/N - this goes back and forth a lot in time, I hope it makes sense. Where there’s a page break it goes back to the present day. Based on the song In This Diary by The Ataris. Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Challenge. Thank you again @pinkiceee-prose and @andiebeaword for reading over this 🖤

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - angst with happy ending | strangers to friends to lovers | smut minors DNI

Warnings - post prison, pot smoking, virgin Spencer, slight sub! Spencer, use of “good boy”, mild praise kink (Spencer), handjob, swearing, fingering, masturbation (m), brief mention of medication but no specifics, talk of PTSS, angst, allusions to sex, brief mention of protected sex, oral (m receiving), brief mention of past addiction and Emily’s “death”.

WC - 10.3k honestly I can’t write anything short

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…

The dogeared, weathered pages told their age beneath his fingertips, speaking their tales through skin. Smudged ink seeped through the yellowing paper, penned words of a different time etched to hold their memory. 

His fingers danced across them as though reading braille, trying to feel the words the way he had when he'd written them. So much time had passed, so much had changed, this book felt like it was from a different lifetime.

If he closed his eyes he could feel himself there. He could feel the way the hot Vegas sun beat down on him, causing little beads of sweat to roll down his face, feeling it tightening his skin. He could sense the pen in his hand as he scrawled down his thoughts, committing them to these pages. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just writing.” 

“Writing what?” 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

He could feel the gravel beneath him, hear the occasional passing vehicle on the freeway whilst hanging out at truck stops just to pass the time. 

He could see fireworks illuminating the sky in desolate parking lots, hear their crackle and bang as they exploded and then disappeared. 

He could hear the thrum of the eighties songs through tinny speakers, even if he never really enjoyed them. He could feel the droplets of water on his frazzled skin from the splash back of a body diving into the hotel pool which was not strictly open to the public. 

It was another life, one he’d long ago left behind but still carried pieces of it with him. 

I guess when it comes down to it, being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up…

“Whatcha got there?” 

A voice snapped him out of his nostalgia and he quickly closed the old book and looked up from his desk. He blinked a few times to try and bring himself back to the present, back from memory lane which he’d started to get lost down. 

Spencer Reid was not known to be a sentimental man, in all honesty he had few good memories from his past to be wistful over. And now was not the time to start. 

Luke had an amused smirk on his lips as he looked down at the younger man and the old, tattered journal on his desk. 

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” Spencer swallowed with a shake of his head. 

“Looked like a diary.” Luke’s smile grew, his intense dark eyes full of mirth. “I saw a date in the corner? August twenty ninth two thousand and two. You'd have been…”

“Twenty two. I was twenty two. The summer before I joined the BAU.” He sighed as he spoke, not thrilled to be sharing this part of his life with Luke. 

It was unfounded, given that it was probably the happiest time of his life. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want his friends to know about it. 

There was something about keeping the memory pure, not having it sullied by outsiders. That secret summer belonged only to the two people who had lived it. 

“I didn't peg you for a journaler.” Luke shrugged. 

“I’m not usually. I don’t really know why I kept a diary that summer.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d kept a record of those days in case, for whatever reason, his memory failed him. If something happened to cause his brain to forget, that was one time in his life he wanted to ensure he’d never lose. 

And since his mothers diagnosis, it was an entirely real possibility that one day he may forget. There were many moments in his life he’d like to be able to neglect, his drug addiction, Gideon’s death, prison; but the summer of ‘02 was not one of them. 

In truth he’d forgotten all about the journal. It wasn’t until his mothers move to DC when he’d been going through old boxes of her stuff that he’d found it. 

“Can I read it?” Luke’s smile turned cheeky, he already knew what the answer would be but he was just trying his luck. 

As expected, Spencer scowled, grabbing the diary and holding it close to his chest as if he believed Luke might try to snatch it from his desk.

“Absolutely not.” He wrapped it tightly against his body. 

“Ooh there’s some juicy stuff in there.” Luke chuckled.

“Don’t be crude.” Spencer scoffed but his cheeks started to redden, conveying the truth. 

“Oh man, I’m right aren’t I?” Luke’s laughter grew. 

It increased in volume enough to grant the attention from the others who had been silently working away at their desks. 

“What’s going on?” JJ perked up, her blonde head of hair appearing behind her computer monitor. 

“Reid’s got a sex diary.” Luke spoke over his shoulder to the whole bullpen.

“I most certainly do not.” His cheeks burned with his embarrassment and he shrunk a little in his chair. 

“Reid? Spencer Reid?” Tara stood from her desk, eyebrow cocked in her blatant confusion. “No way, I don’t believe that.”

“Good, because it's not true.” He held the journal closer to his chest. 

“He’s hiding something in there, there’s a reason he won’t let me read it.” Luke scoffed. 

“Did it occur to you that some people don’t enjoy sharing their entire life story?” Spencer grumbled.

By now JJ and Matt were on their feet too, and the three other agents closed in on his desk. He was thankful at least Emily, Rossi and Garcia were in their respective offices. He shrunk lower in his chair, wishing he were able to simply vanish into thin air. 

“Oh he’s definitely hiding something.” Tara folded her arms across her chest, eyebrow still raised in a combination of suspicion and delight.

“So what if I am? I’m entitled to my secrets.” Spencer complained. 

“The last time you kept a secret from us you ended up in prison.” JJ’s shoulders slumped, wincing a little at her own words. 

“This isn’t…it’s not like that.” He shook his head. “It’s just memories okay? Memories of a great summer I had before I joined the bureau and I’d like to keep them to myself.” 

“Oh it’s totally a sex diary.” Matt chuckled heartily. 

“For the love of…” Spencer trailed off, pushing himself to his feet and tucking the journal under his arm. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Can you please just respect my privacy for once? I know how hard that is for you guys.” 

“Ouch,” JJ pouted. “Sorry for caring.” 

“Jennifer, we both know this has nothing to do with you caring about me.” He clucked, pushing past the gaggle of his friends and marching out of the bullpen. 

He felt them watching him, muttering under their breaths as he walked away. He hurried down the corridor out of view until he pushed his way into the men’s bathroom. 

He slumped into a stall and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. Placing the old leather bound diary in his lap he ran his fingers over the cover. 

He didn’t know why he’d let himself get so worked up over a stupid journal. Except it wasn’t stupid, far from it. It was his collection of memories from a life he wished he could go back and relive. 

The twenty two year old who’d put pen to these pages was naive and innocent, his whole life ahead of him. The boy he’d been back then didn’t know of the horrors he was yet to face. It was a much simpler time and he wanted to be able to cling to that without his friends being involved. 

For fourteen years his team had been privy to every moment of his life, good and bad. Was it so wrong that Spencer wanted to just keep this one thing to himself? 

He huffed out a staggered breath, wishing not for the first time that just cared a little less. It made sense when he was younger, he’d been green when he joined the FBI and the team had treated him with kid gloves, probably rightfully so. But he was a grown man now, older and more worldly, he didn’t need them treating him like a child.

He cracked the spine of the journal, opening it up to the first page and continued caressing the worn page with his fingers. The diary began at the end, retrospectively writing of his adventures during the last week of that summer when he realised he didn’t want those memories to escape him. 

August 29th 2002

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters.

Here in this diary he had meticulously journalled everything that transpired during his last few months in his hometown and how those moments had changed his life forever. He cautiously turned the page, careful not to tear the aged paper. 

He felt the heat rising, the sun high in the sky. He became aware of the somewhat blistering concrete beneath him, the occasional sound of passing cars. He could make out the scent of sunblock in the air, chlorine from nearby backyard swimming pools. 

Brushing his digits across the page he was transported away from Virginia, away from the bathroom on the sixth floor Quantico office. As he closed his eyes, the Las Vegas summer stretched out before him.

June 2nd 2002

The temperature edged over a hundred two days ago and the AC hasn’t worked in three years. Really need to sell the house, I must look into that when I get to DC. Mom hasn’t lived here since I sent her off to Bennington and this was the last summer I’d be needing it. 

It was cooler to sit outside, despite the humidity, it was preferable to the stuffy house with no AC. I planned to go to the library, basking in its glorious air conditioning unit but after stepping outside and immediately feeling the sweat gathering all over my skin, I decided against walking for five miles in this heat. 

And boy would I be glad for that decision. 

I’m not sure what it was that tore my attention away from the Great Gatsby that morning. I had this feeling, this inexplicable feeling running through my veins and forcing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention. 

And when I looked up, there she was. It was as though she was floating, drifting so effortlessly across the street I was sure her feet didn’t touch the ground. She regarded me curiously, most people did. She was unblinking, a slow and cautious smile building on her lips. 

I simply stared back in awe at this angelic creature heading my way, never letting her gaze falter from me. I was stunned into silence as she approached up the front path, head tilting to the side as she analysed me. 

She invited herself closer, up the three concrete stairs before dropping to the top step right next to me, opening her mouth and inquisitively speaking…

“What are you reading?” You smiled at him in what you hoped to be an amicable manner, but nonetheless his back straightened as if you posed a threat to him. 

“Uh…” he swallowed thickly, his Adams apple bobbing. “Me?” 

“Yes you.” You laughed. “Who else would I be talking to?” 

The peculiar man looked around like he expected someone else to be sitting on his stoop with the two of you. He scratched at the back of his neck nervously. 

“I don’t…I don’t know.” He rolled his chapped lip between his teeth. 

“I’m Y/N.” You shook your head, still laughing a little at his obvious awkwardness. 

“Sp-Spencer.” He stuttered. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer.” You nodded curtly. “I’m house sitting for my aunt for the summer, what’s good to do around here?” 

Her smile could have lit up the whole night sky, her laugh the sweetest sound I’d ever been lucky enough to hear. She was summer, she would still be summer in the dead of winter. She was magnetic, effervescent. 

She was the first drop of rain after a long drought, she was those first few seconds in the morning when you wake up where you momentarily forget all of life's problems. She was…

“Reid, you in here? We got a case.” Luke’s voice broke him out of his revere, eyes flickering off of the page up to the closed stall door. 

“I’ll be right there.” He croaked, closing the diary again. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled until his lungs were full. He counted to five in his head and listened for the door to close before he slowly exhaled. He repeated the action three more times before he trusted himself to stand. 

He swore he could still smell your perfume as he forced his way out of the bathroom and back to reality. 

***

June 14th 2002

All the nights we stayed up talking, listening to 80's songs. It still brings a smile to my face. 

Her aunt's house, which I came to learn was just up the street and had a new, state of the art AC unit fitted. The next two weeks we spent nearly everyday there listening to her favourite songs on the old stereo, most of which I’d never heard before. 

The likes of Van Halen, The Cure, AC/DC and The Pixies played on repeat while she quizzed me on my life and I on hers. She was from San Francisco and her aunt was on vacation so she’d offered to house sit for the summer. She was a year younger than me at twenty one and fresh out of college with no idea where she was heading next.

I kind of envied her, she was a free spirit, she could go anywhere she wanted, do anything she wanted. And for whatever reason, she chose to spend her summer with me.

You hummed along to the music, Where is My Mind by the Pixies encompassing the room. You laid on your back on the couch, your feet in Spencer’s lap and the AC sending its cool waves towards you.

You cradled the blunt between your fingertips, every now and again raising it to your lips and sucking on it. The room was filling with smoke, the smell of it alone enough to make Spencer a little light headed. 

“You sure you don’t want any of this?” You spoke with a lungful smoke. 

“I’m good, really.” Spencer smiled his tight-lipped smile you’d grown accustomed to the last few weeks. 

“It would be out of your system before you start your big government job.” You giggled. 

“It’s not just that.” He shook his head. “Smoking marijuana at our age while our brains are still technically developing can affect IQ. A study showed that those who started smoking pot before twenty five lost six to eight IQ points by middle age.” 

You sat up on your elbows, your eyebrows deeply furrowed at him.

“You think it’s really going to affect your life so much if you lose a couple of IQ points, Doc?” Your lip quipped up into a smile. 

“I don’t want to risk it.” Spencer noted your slightly bloodshot eyes. 

You took another long drag, the sound of the paper crackling as it burnt filled his ears. You breathed it in before slowly exhaling the smoke out into the room. 

“Hmm,” you hummed in content, dropping the half smoked blunt into a little glass dish on the coffee table. “Now I feel light as a feather.” 

“You could get that feeling in many other ways. The main psychoactive ingredient, THC, is simply stimulating the part of the brain that responds to pleasure. It’s releasing dopamine which is what’s giving you that euphoric feeling.” He told you almost sternly.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, sitting up further so you could get a good look at him. 

“Pleasure, huh?” You clicked your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed. “It’s the same way you would respond to food or…”

“Or?” Your lip twitched.

“Other pleasurable activities.” He swallowed again, his cheeks turning slightly pink. 

You swung your legs off of his lap and shuffled closer to him on the couch. You saw him swallow yet again, noticed his chest heave with a deep breath. 

The closer you got to him the more you could feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves and you dared move so you were straddling his lap. 

Your knees pressing either side of his thighs, you wrapped your arms around his neck and a hagged breath left between his pouty lips. His cheeks were a deep crimson colour now and from this position in his lap you knew exactly why. 

“Spence?” You whispered as he looked at you in embarrassment. 

It would be painfully obvious from where you were sitting that he was aroused and he felt so incredibly vulnerable in that moment. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He croaked. 

“What other pleasurable activities are you talking about?” 

“I think…I think you know.” 

“Hmm let’s pretend I don’t.” You smiled coyly. “After all, I’ve probably knocked off a few IQ points right? What other pleasurable activities?” 

You rolled your hips a little in his lap and Spencer mewled at the sensation. This was the closest he’d ever come to having someone other than himself touch him and he felt dizzy. He felt so dizzy that when he spoke, he wasn’t sure he’d even meant to let the word slip off his tongue. 

“S-sex.” He breathed, the smile on your face growing in approval. 

“Well now, that does sound more appealing than smoking.” You edged your face closer to him, rolling your hips into his lap once more. 

He smelt your perfume and the pot on your breath. He felt like his skin was on fire and he couldn’t form a coherent thought. 

A moment before you lips touched his, the sound of a phone ring cut through the room and you sprung apart suddenly. 

Spencer remained sitting on the couch while you ambled over to the landline. He watched you go, half wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing. 

But the erection still visible through his slacks begged to differ. 

***

He returned the journal to his satchel as the jet came into land near Dallas. He knew word of his mysterious diary had reached Emily and Rossi and the whole team had been watching him read on the flight. 

He tried to cast his memories to the back of his mind and focus on the case, people were being murdered and that had to take precedence over his nostalgic thoughts. 

Emily sent him and Rossi to the morgue and Spencer tried to pretend he was focused on a case file while Rossi drove them. He could see the older man looking at him in his peripheral vision. 

Thankfully Rossi did not ask him about the journal even though Spencer knew he wanted to. 

It was in the back of his mind all day and after he retired to his hotel room and showered, he found himself thumbing through to the next page. 

July 1st 2002

Breaking into hotel swimming pools, and wreaking havoc on our world. Does it make me completely dumb that I would follow her to the ends of the earth? 

I knew it was a bad idea, but I just can’t say no to her. She said she had something fun planned and so like an idiot I came along. 

I didn’t say anything when we jumped the fence. It was around eleven pm and all the lights around the pool were out, the stars and the moon reflecting on the still water. 

I still didn’t say anything when she started stripping down to her underwear, mostly because it rendered me speechless. The sight of her in nothing but that skimpy black lace lingerie caused me to forget my own name and I’m sure I just stared at her slack jaw. 

It’s been a few weeks since I think she tried to kiss me and she hasn’t said anything about it. I’m starting to think I misread the situation entirely. 

At least I was, until she stripped off her clothes by the side of the pool and curled her finger at me, beckoning me closer.

“You fancy a dip, Spencer?” Your voice was breathy and he followed your motion to come closer. 

“Uh, won’t we get in trouble?” He padded forward all the same. 

“Only if we get caught.” You giggled, reaching for him as soon as he was close enough. 

You gripped him by the lapels of his shirt to tug him forward before your fingers glided towards the top button. He stared at you without a word while you effortlessly popped the buttons one by one. 

Once you’d gotten the last button undone your hands moved to his shoulders and you helped push the fabric down his arms until it dropped to the floor. 

He was painfully skinny but it didn’t stop him from subconsciously sucking in his small stomach. Your eyes grazed up and down his torso, taking in every inch of skin.

He felt hot beneath your gaze despite the fact the temperature plummeted at night. He felt self conscious, not worthy of your eyes on him. But when you met his gaze again you were smiling. 

When your hands landed on the button of his slacks his breath hitched and his legs wobbled slightly. You giggled again, a sound that had become Spencer’s favourite melody over the past month. 

You made quick work of the button and zipper before hooking your fingers in the side of his pants and shimming them down his legs. 

Spencer stayed still and silent while you undressed him until his pants pooled at his feet and he kicked off his converse so he could remove them completely. 

His hands darted in front of him, trying to hide the exceedingly noticeable tenting in his tight boxers. He could tell you knew what he was trying to hide by the playful smile now on your lips. 

It was an all too regular occurrence around you. You only had to glance at him a certain way and he would be standing at full attention. It wasn’t his fault, you were unfairly beautiful. 

Suddenly you turned your back on him, floating as you so often did towards the pool. Before Spencer’s brain could catch up you were diving into the still water, causing ripples to roll out across the pool. 

A few droplets splashed up onto his face and chest. While you were submerged he moved closer to the edge and slipped into the cool water before you could have a chance to scrutinise his body again. 

When you emerged you wiped your hair off your face and found Spencer in the pool, leaning back against the wall. The water wasn’t too deep but he crouched down so it was covering him up to his chest. 

You waded towards him, eyes sparkling from the moonlight. He pushed himself back against the side of the pool, his nerves written all over his face. 

“Everything okay, Doc?” You asked as you neared him. 

“Fine, just fine.” He nodded stiffly. 

“You sure about that?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, moving dangerously closer. 

“Hmm mmm.” He tried to insist but you weren’t buying it. 

Your eyes were dark by the time you were right in front of him, almost black. The smile on your face was sinful and it made Spencer’s knees weak. 

No one had ever looked at him the way you were looking at him at that moment. He may be naive but he knew exactly what that look meant. And as if to prove that point, your right hand disappeared under the water and seconds later it was palming him through his underwear.

A pathetic whimper left his lips at the contact even though there was a layer of wet fabric between him and your hand. 

Your smile grew at his reaction, your other hand now moving to grip his shoulder. Spencer’s arms remained at his sides, his breathing already heightened. 

“Spencer?” You whispered. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

He rolled his lip between his teeth and shook his head dispondantly.

“No,” he confessed. “I, uh, I’ve never even…kissed anyone before.” 

He felt the heat spreading to his cheeks and he was painfully aware of your hand still palming him. Your smile turned a little sad, pitying almost. 

“You want to change that?” Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. 

“Y-yes.” He nodded. “Yes p-please.” 

“So polite,” you stepped even closer. “Such a good boy.” 

When your lips finally touched his, he whined against them, feeling an explosion of emotions in one simple action. Your tongue easily made its way into his mouth and your hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his head. 

You kissed him fiercely, exploring his mouth with hunger. Spencer didn’t do much of anything, simply stood limply while you kissed the air from his lungs. 

He continued to whine against your lips when your hand started moving around his shaft. His hips started to rock against you of their own accord and he so desperately wished there wasn’t a piece of fabric in his way. 

As though you could read his mind your hand shifted and your fingers trailed across his stomach just about the waistband of his boxers. He moaned deeply and you pulled back from the kiss, a questioning expression on your features.

“Can I?” You panted as you spoke, nodding your head downwards. 

All Spencer could do was nod dumbly in response. 

You smiled before leaning in to kiss him again, somehow more ferociously than before. When your hand slid inside the sodden material of his boxers and wrapped around his length an animalistic moan erupted from his lips, swallowed down in your own mouth. 

Your small hand couldn’t quite reach all the way around his thick shaft as you started moving up and down on it. His hips started bucking harder than before, telling you he enjoyed it. 

His brain was mush, he couldn’t form a single coherent thought except how phenomenal your hand felt. His lack of awareness allowed him a little more confidence and he finally moved his arms, his hands finding your face and holding you while he kissed you. 

You smiled against his lips, the water started to lap around your bodies with your movements. You kept up a steady pace as you stroked him while removing one of his hands from your face. 

He let you guide his hand over the planes of your body until it was situated between your legs. He inhaled sharply, having to tear his lips away from yours. 

You were both panting as you looked at each other, his breathing staggered due to the way you were touching him. His hand was still between your legs, ghosting outside of your panties.

“You…you’re sure?” He breathed erratically. 

“Very.” You nodded, increasing your speed and eliciting another feral moan from Spencer. 

“I…I’ve never done this before.” 

“You strike me as a quick learner.” You smirked. 

“F-fuck…” he mumbled. “I…I am.” 

“Make me feel good, Spence. Be a good boy for me.” 

Your words of praise made him hiss, bucking hard into your hand. It was enough encouragement for him to inch your panties aside before his fingers slid beneath the fabric. 

You were surprised to say the least when one of his digits quickly found your clit and started rubbing it deftly, as though he’d done this hundreds of times before. 

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open, your grip on him faltering for a second at the sensation. 

“Fuck…” you whined, trying to focus on your strokes. “You…you sure you’ve never done that before?” 

“P-positive.” He nodded, his knees buckling as he felt precome leaking from his head. “S’good?” 

“So good, baby. So good.” You crashed your lips together again as he increased his speed, rubbing your sensitive bud like he’d been doing it his whole life. 

You squeezed the base of his shaft before matching his speed with your strokes. You were moaning into each other's waiting mouths, water frantically lapping around your bodies. 

You whined when his finger disappeared from your clit but soon two of his digits were swiping through your folds. When you felt them pressed against your entrance, begging for access, you nibbled on his bottom lip and squeezed his cock again telling him to continue. 

You moaned in unison as his two long, slender fingers entered you. Spencer felt as though he might pass out at the sensation as his fingers pushed all the way inside of you. 

He felt your shift and move around him, your walls fluttering against his digits. That combined with the way you were frenziedly pumping him caused his stomach to tighten with the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. 

“Oh my gosh you feel so incredible.” He whined, plunging his fingers deeper inside you. 

You felt him twitching in your hand, still lazily rocking into your touch. 

“Are you close, baby?” Your thighs squeezed around his hand. 

“Y-yes.” He admitted, fingers coniniting to move in and out of you, desperate to give you as much pleasure as you were bestowing upon him. 

“Come for me, Spence. Come for me.” 

He whimpered again, the pressure building in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t hold back any longer even if he wanted to. 

With a staggered moan his hips jut forward as he came in the pool, while you stroked him through his first orgasm not at his own hand. 

***

In a hotel room just outside of Dallas, Spencer narrowly managed to move the journal out of the way just in time for him to spill his load over his own hand. 

He fell back against the lumpy pillows, breathing heavily and his hand still slowly moving up and down his spent shaft. 

He glanced at the diary through hazy eyes and shook his head, removing his hand from his cock and wiping his seed on the bed sheet.

He swore he could feel your hand there even after all these years, feel the water splashing around his naked torso. 

He could feel you around his fingers, the way you clenched tighter as you came not so long after he did. 

He could still feel the weight of your body as you fell against him in the pool, head nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you panted heavily into his wet skin. 

Things had been so much simpler then, he sometimes yearned for those days. A part of him wished he hadn’t found the journal in the first place then maybe he wouldn’t have found himself sucked down this particular rabbit hole. 

Despite the memories swarming his brain he fell asleep without even cleaning himself off, one hand on his rapidly beating heart and the other clutching the battered diary. 

***

July 4th 2002

Lighting fireworks in parking lots, illuminates the blackest nights. Cherry cokes under this moonlit summer sky. 

I suggested going to an organised event for the Fourth of July celebrations but she insisted that we have our own. 

She brought a ton of fireworks, it was a wonder she didn’t blow a hand off that night, fumbling to light them whilst dragging on a blunt.

But I simply watched her from the back of her aunt’s old VW Camper, sipping on my coke in absolute awe of her every move. 

Since our pool escapades the other day, every time I look at her I get chills. Every time I catch sight of her I think of the way she felt as she touched me, as I touched her…

She hasn’t even so much as kissed me since and I’m partially wondering if it was all a vivid dream. At least I was until tonight. 

You sauntered back over towards the open back doors of your camper where Spencer sat cross legged on a blanket. 

Seconds later an array of fireworks erupted in the sky over the abandoned parking lot, the sounds and the colours a feast for the senses. 

But you weren’t watching them. You were watching him. 

You crawled into the back of the van, right into his lap, straddling him as you took a long pull on the joint. You inhaled the smoke and tossed the butt over your shoulder before placing your hands on his shoulders. 

When you kissed him the smoke filtered out of your mouth and into his but he didn’t care. His arms wrapped around your waist while your tongues explored each other's mouths. 

You guided him backwards so he was laying down, his cock already fully erect and pressing against you. You laid on top of him and continued to kiss him fiercely. 

His hands found purchase on your back, gently holding you close. You were grinding against him causing him to moan into your mouth and squirm beneath you. 

He knew where this would inevitably lead if he let it. He wanted to, he didn’t exactly relish the idea of being a virgin forever and you were the first woman to ever show him this kind of attention.

But he didn’t want to just be another guy to you. He didn’t want to just be a quick lay you’d forget all about. And inevitably that’s what would happen.

It wasn’t something the two of you talked about often but at the end of summer you were going back to San Francisco and he was going to DC. If he slept with you that’s all it would ever be. And he didn’t want that. 

You continued to kiss him and grind against him but his intrusive thoughts got the better of him and all the blood that had previously been flowing south rerouted itself. He didn’t even realise until you sat back and looked at him curiously.

“Is everything okay?” You breathed heavily, lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He frowned up at you. 

“Uh…” Your eyes flicked down towards his crotch at the same time he realised he was completely flaccid. 

His cheeks burnt and he cursed his overactive brain. 

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, trying to sit back up. 

You slid off of his lap and sat next to him while he drew his legs close to his body. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I’m sorry if I come on a little strong.” You shrugged meekly. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I’m never going to see again once summer is over.” He cringed at his own words, at how needy and sad he sounded. 

Your expression turned pitying and it made him feel even more stupid. 

“I get it.” You smiled softly. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“It’s kinda hard not to be.” He buried his head into his knees and hugged his arms around his shins. “I’m sure most guys, normal guys, would jump at the chance to be with a woman as beautiful as you. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do, I was always so much younger than my peers so it made sense. I wasn’t waiting or anything, not deliberately. But now the opportunity has presented itself, I don’t think I’m the casual sex kind of guy. God that sounds so lame.” 

You were smiling to yourself at how adorable he was. With his face against his knees his words were muffled but you caught the gist of them. 

You shuffled closer to him and placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his face back up so he would look at you. 

“I think that’s kinda noble.” You whispered.

“I think the word you’re looking for is sad.” He huffed. 

“No, it’s not.” You let go of his face. “I understand, Spencer. I wish I’d waited, I wish I’d waited for someone like you.” 

He let you wrap your arms around him and he leant against your chest while you held him. Off in the distance fireworks continued to illuminate the sky, the far off sound of their explosions a strange comfort. 

***

Spencer rubbed his eyes with his palms somewhat aggressively after almost an hour of staring at the map of their unsubs hunting ground. 

Despite falling asleep quickly last night his peace had been short lived and he’d woken less than two hours later and couldn’t get back to sleep. 

He didn’t know why he was letting the diary affect him in such a way, shouldn’t it have the opposite result? Those entries were from the best days of his life, but maybe it served as a reminder that he could never go back to that time.

He wasn’t that naive kid anymore, he’d suffered one too many traumas in his life to ever be that kid again. Back then his most difficult decision was whether or not to have sex with a beautiful woman. He longed to have such trivial problems. 

He’d felt so stupid after the night of the fourth of July he had avoided you for two weeks after. He’d wasted what precious time the two of you had together feeling idiotic over his decision to turn you down and hidden out in the public library just to circumvent any further interaction with you. 

He turned to face the room, realising he was alone in the small meeting room. Last he checked JJ and Luke were at the table going over files, when had they left? 

He frowned to himself, reaching for his satchel and pulling the journal out, flipping to the next page. 

July 19th 2002

Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up, these are the best days of our lives. The only thing that matters is just following your heart, and eventually you'll finally get it right.

He closed his eyes with a shake of his head. Wasn’t that the painful truth? He’d written that particular entry with a smile on his face like the cat that got the cream. That date had been the best of his whole whirlwind summer. 

After stewing in his stupidity for two weeks he had shown up at your aunt's house unexpected and uninvited. You’d barely let him inside before he’d kissed you. And it wasn’t long at all before he was leading you back to the couch. 

“Spence, what’s going on?” You panted, looking up at him from where you laid on the couch. 

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” He was fumbling a little with the buttons of his shirt, hands noticeably shaking. 

“But I thought…you said you didn’t want this? And then you don’t talk to me for weeks and now you-”

“I was overthinking, I do that a lot. But I don’t want to overthink this.” He finished unbuttoning the shirt and dropped it to the floor before climbing on top of you and kissing you again.

“You’re sure?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Extremely.” He replied.

He snapped the journal closed before he could get carried away. He didn’t exactly go into graphic detail of what transpired on your aunt’s couch that day but it was certainly not safe for work material. 

He didn’t need to read the words anyway, he’d memorised everything about that day. He learnt by heart the way your skin felt against his, the way the two of you melted together as though your bodies somehow became one. He’d retained every little detail of how you felt, every tiny movement of your body as he’d made love to you. 

He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. 

Just as he was slotting the diary back into his satchel, trying not to get caught up in the blissful memory, the door opened and JJ strolled in carrying two take out coffee cups. She smiled at him, handing him one of the drinks. He smiled at her in thanks.

Her eyes flitted to his open bag and the diary nestled inside. When she looked back at him she had an amused expression on her face.

“So, sex diary, huh?” She chuckled lightly.

“It is nothing of the sort.” He rolled his eyes.

“Alvez is convinced otherwise.” 

“Well Alvez doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Summer of oh-two right?” She narrowed her eyes on him, the way she did when she was trying to profile him.

“Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee. 

“Wasn’t that-”

“Yes.” He cut her off. 

The summer I met the love of my life. 

He’d told JJ snippets from that summer, she was the only one who he’d ever told. She knew as much as he’d met a wonderful woman who he’d lost his virginity to and over the course of a summer had fallen in love with her. As far as he knew she’d never told anyone. 

“So why has it gotten you so tetchy? I would have thought you’d like to relive those days?” She slid into one of the chairs sipping her own coffee but her scrutinising gaze stayed on him.

He let out a haggard sigh, taking a seat next to her and using his free hand to swipe his hair back off of his face.

“Do you ever feel like the best days of your life have passed you by?” He found himself asking. 

JJ’s expression softened, a melancholy smile adorned on her lips. She sat forward slightly in the chair.

“Is that really what you think?” She placed a gentle hand on his knee and she felt him tense up at her touch.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” He wiggled his nose, a gesture he did when he was uncomfortable. “I guess I just miss being that carefree.”

“Spencer Reid, carefree? Can’t picture it.” JJ laughed around her cup.

“Fine, maybe not carefree.” He chuckled too. “But not…this. I’m worried I’m never going to bounce back from prison. I went to therapy, I took the medication, I should be over it by now.”

“Spence, you have PTSS, that doesn’t just go away. You know as well as I do, probably better, that the symptoms can be managed, that it can remain dormant for months, even years. But the trauma you suffered is what evoked your PTSS and that doesn’t leave you. You’ll probably always be dealing with it in one way or another.” JJ squeezed his knee before Spencer moved out of her touch. 

He knew what she was saying was right and that’s what made it harder to hear. PTSS was something he would always live with, something that could always be triggered in the future. He’d created coping mechanisms, dealt with his trauma but it didn’t make it go away, it would never just vanish into thin air. He could never undo the damage that had already been done. 

“I thought reading that journal would help me feel like my old self but it’s having the opposite effect. Because I’m never going to be that kid again.” He shook his head sadly. 

“And why would you want to be?” JJ scoffed.

“Excuse me?” He frowned at her.

“Spence, I knew you at twenty two. You were painfully shy and awkward. It took you years to be able to look me in the eye. You’ve changed so much in the years I’ve known you and that’s not a bad thing. You’re better at your job, you’re a better man now than you were at twenty two, you have to see that?” She hoped her words were getting through, hoped he would listen to her before he fell into a self pity spiral he may never get out of. 

He exhaled shakily, taking another sip of coffee while he tried to come up with a response. But he didn’t have to, as soon the door was opening again and Luke entered the room. And Spencer quickly jumped up and returned to his map, effectively shutting down any further conversation on the subject. 

***

August 6th 2002

Hanging out at truck stops, just to pass the time. Watching the slew of cars fly by on the freeway, eating bags of chips while she tossed stones out into the rolling desert beyond us. 

“Remind me again why we’re here?” He asked you as you flung another stone off into the distance. 

You turned to face him, both sitting in the gravel, leaning up against the side of the truck stop building. 

“Why not?” You quipped. 

“There are countless other more interesting things in Las Vegas than sitting at a truck stop. You’re only here a few more weeks and I thought you wanted to see the city?” 

“I have seen the city.” 

“You’ve seen abandoned parking lots, old motel swimming pools and the inside of your aunt’s house.” He shook his head. 

“Hmm,” you mused. “I have been very acquainted with her ceiling these past few weeks.” You winked at him and his cheeks immediately burned at the insinuation. 

It wasn’t a lie. The last couple of weeks the two of you had barely left your aunt’s house in lieu of making the most of each other's company whilst wearing as few clothes as possible. 

Spencer wasn’t strictly complaining about that, sex with you was one of the wonders of the world and he’d happily do it for the rest of his life. But he was painfully aware of what little time you had left together. 

“It’s a pretty good ceiling.” He swallowed thickly, having had his own share of experiences in which he was staring at that ceiling too. 

You giggled and it was literally music to his ears. You tossed another stone before suddenly getting to your feet. 

Spencer followed suit, brushing the dirt off the back of his slacks. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes as you took hold of his hand and started leading him around the side of the building. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, not that it really mattered. He’d long ago realised he would follow you anywhere. 

“You’ll see.” You giggled again, giving his hand a squeeze. 

He followed you inside a grimy and slightly dilapidated bathroom, eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion. 

When you let go of his hand and locked the door, his stomach coiled into knots and his cock immediately started to come to life. 

“Y/N?” He breathed. “What are we…why are we…?” 

You laughed and took him by the hand again, leading him into a stall. The door was coming off of its hinges and the tiled floor was dirty and cracked. You didn’t seem to notice. 

You pushed him up against one of the walls in the stall and started kissing him with ferocity. He kissed you back, trying to ignore the stench of a bathroom that was long overdue for a good clean. 

He didn’t really have much time to dwell on such trivial things however as soon as you were dropping to your knees on the filthy floor and looking up at him through your lashes. 

The simple action had him standing at full attention, his stomach tightly coiled. He’d dreamed of what it would be like to have you go down on him but never imagined it would happen. 

He was too polite to ask and too innocent to assume. But it hadn’t stopped him from imagining it countless times. 

You smiled at him, toying with the button of his slacks and chewing seductively on your lip. 

“Is this what you want, Doc?” You breathed. 

“You have no idea.” He nodded somewhat frantically. 

“Be a good boy and say it for me. I can’t read your mind.” You teased. 

The idea of dirty talking in any way would have normally freaked him out but it had become clear to both of you early on that when you called him a good boy he’d do just about anything. 

“P-please,” he whined, bucking his hips. “Please s-suck my cock.” 

You hissed at his words, teeth sinking deeply into your own lip. 

“Oh you’re so good, Spencer. Such a good boy for me.” You popped the button as a reward. 

“Your good boy.” He agreed with a whimper. 

“My best boy.” You smirked, tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees in one swift move. 

He gasped as the stale air hit his erect cock and pushed himself back against the stall wall. You ran your tongue along your bottom lip as your index finger ghosted up and down the throbbing vein that ran the length of his shaft. 

His knees were already quaking, desperate to feel your lips wrapped around him. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait much longer as soon you bowed your head, parted your lips and took his head into your mouth. 

His eyes rolled back in his head in an instant and the sounds coming from his lips could only be described as feral as you slowly took him all the way in your mouth. 

He yelped when he hit the back of your throat, partly through pleasure and partly through fear he might hurt you. He knew he wasn’t exactly small, not quite so naive as to be blind to the fact he was sporting an above average sized package. 

But to your credit you didn’t even so much as gag and when you looked up at him through your lashes again, nose buried in his pubic hair, he swore you were smiling. 

***

At the back of the jet Spencer tried to rearrange his satchel in his lap to disguise his growing erection from anyone who might pass him by. The mere thought of that day you’d given him his very first blow job was enough to make him strain at the front of his slacks. 

The case in Dallas was wrapped up in just two days despite Spencer’s lack of concentration and he was so pleased to be heading home. 

He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the headrest and trying not to think about that day but failed miserably. 

Getting to come while he had sex with you was incredible, of course, but being inhibited by condoms always left him feeling a little incomplete. But the feeling of coming down your throat, having every last drop of his arousal swallowed down while you smiled at him was out of this world. 

He whimpered a little under his breath, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants. He grit his teeth together hard and opened his eyes in an attempt to focus on something else. 

August 29th 2002

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters…

“What are you doing?” You sing-songed, dropping yourself next to him on the couch. 

“Just writing.” He hurried to close the journal before you caught sight of anything.

“Writing what?” Your eyes were sparkling playfully at him. 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” He shrugged, hugging the book to his chest. 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

Three days later, on September first, you’d been leaving Vegas, waving to him from the rear window of the bus taking you to the airport. 

***

September 1st 2002

I don’t know why but some reason I genuinely thought this summer might never end. Time is just a construct right? Maybe this summer could last forever. 

More logically, or maybe less depending on how you look at it, I think I actually thought she’d stay, come with me to DC. I asked her to, although I don’t think she realised I was being serious. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just writing.” 

“Writing what?” 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

“I know, I’m just scared for this to end. I…Y/N I have fallen in love with you. Don’t go back to California, come to DC with me instead.”

She’d simply laughed as though I’d told the world's funniest joke, patted me on the shoulder and said, “oh wouldn’t that just be the dream, Doc?” 

That was three days ago and she hasn’t brought it up since and neither have I. And today I helped her with her bags to the bus station so she could leave me forever. 

Get on the bus, it's time to go. 

“I am gonna miss you, you know, Doc?” You toyed with his lapel, the sweetest of smiles on your face. “I had a way better summer than I planned for.”

“M-me too.” He croaked, stupidly feeling hot tears brewing behind his eyes. 

“Don’t be sad, you’re leaving for Quantico next week. Your dream job, remember? You're going to be saving lives and kicking ass. You’ll forget all about me.” You smiled. 

“Doubtful.” He huffed. 

The engine of the bus roared to life behind the two of you and your smile turned a little sad. You breathed out before leaning in close and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“You have to forget me, Doc. Summers over.” You whispered against his lips and before he could reply you were turning away and sauntering to the doors of the bus. 

His heart constricted in his chest, tears encompassing his vision. Nothing about this was fair even though he’d know all along you’d be leaving. It didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. 

He rubbed his eyes heavily before your face appeared at the back window. You were still smiling but if he didn’t know any better he swore your own eyes were filled with tears. 

The sound of the doors closing caused his chest to tighten further. This was it. It was over. You were leaving. 

As the bus rumbled into gear and started forward, you waved to him and his tears broke free. He raised his hand and waved back while they rolled down his cheeks. 

He stood on the sidewalk waving as the bus started its journey, watching as the only woman he would ever love was cruelly taken away from him. 

***

He rolled his neck as he ascended the stairs to his apartment after a long metro ride home from Quantico. He freed his keys from his satchel, fingertips brushing over the worn leather cover of the journal as he did so. 

He’d never be that innocent twenty two year old again. But was that really such a bad thing? Maybe JJ was right, he was better at his job, he was a better man now than he had been back then. Getting caught up in this wave of nostalgia was foolish.

Ultimately Spencer knew he wouldn’t go back to that age for all the money in the world. That summer might have been the best of his life, but it wasn’t as though his life had been terrible after that. Things sometimes had a way of working themselves out, the universe had its own plan for everyone. 

And despite the trauma thrown his way, the universe hadn’t been entirely merciless towards him. 

He found himself smiling for the first time in days as he slotted the key in his apartment door. He’d been thrown a lot of curveballs in his life, dealt a hand that no one person should have to tackle alone. 

But then he never really had been alone, had he? 

He turned the key and pushed open the door, the light from the lamp next to the couch illuminating the room in the homely glow he loved so much. 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee met his nose, wrapping him in its warmth. He smiled brighter, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his satchel. He pulled out the journal and cradled it under his arm. Then he turned towards the couch and the body sat upon it, his smile grew tenfold. 

“Welcome home, Doc.” 

Get on the bus, it's time to go. 

He continued to wave dumbly as the bus got further away, tears streaking down his cheeks and he feared they may never end. 

He even kept waving when the bus came to an abrupt stop, even carrying on when the doors swung open and you appeared on the sidewalk. 

He finally lowered his hand when you started running towards him, tears rolling from your eyes and a frantic expression on your features. 

“You meant it didn’t you? When you asked me to come to DC with you, you meant it. You meant it and I knew you did but I laughed because I was scared.” You spat out, speaking so fast all your words rolled into one. 

“I did mean it.” He croaked, scared to reach for you in case you vanished in a puff of smoke. “And I also meant it when I told you I love you.” 

“I, uh…” your voice cracked and you scuffed your toe on the concrete. “Would it be utterly crazy if I did come with you to DC?”

“Probably.” He nodded. “Realistically we barely know each other. We might come to find when we learn more about one another that we don’t actually like what we find. Take me, I’m neurotic, I’m a neat freak, a germaphobe. I own too many books, my hair’s too long, my tie is perpetually crooked, I’m-”

“Spencer?” You chuckled through your tears, cutting him off of his rant.

“I ramble when I’m nervous.” He sighed. “But I do know that I love you. And I’m almost positive that I will love every little thing about you, most likely for the rest of my life. So it is probably crazy of you to come to DC with me, but I hope you do it anyway.”

“Spence?” You smiled, wiping at your tears. “I love you too, and I’m positive I will love every little thing about you too. For the rest of my life.” 

Spencer let out a shaky breath of relief and wiped his own tears moments before you fell into his arms and kissed him more fiercely than you ever had before. And you both knew no matter how crazy it was, it also made absolutely perfect sense. 

“Good to be home, angel.” He kissed you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to hold you close. 

He always did that, despite how many years it had been. Regardless of the fact you’d now been together since you were twenty one years old and he was twenty two, in spite of the fact you’d married him, he always felt the need to keep you as close as humanly possible as though afraid he may lose you like he almost had all those years ago.

“Missed you.” You mumbled against his lips. 

“Missed you more.” He replied.

When he broke away from you, your eyes landed on the diary and you laughed, tugging it free of his grip. 

“JJ called me this morning and said you’d been pining over this thing.” You ran your fingers over the worn cover. 

“Best summer of my life.” He smiled as the two of you sank to the couch. 

Spencer wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you nuzzled against him, still toying with the old diary. 

“Mine too. But we can’t live in the past forever. And I don’t know about you but I’m pretty happy right here in the present. And I’m certain our future is going to look pretty damn good.” You took his hand in your free one and brought it to your lips so you could place delicate kisses on his knuckles. 

He’d been so sure as he watched that bus pull away that he would never see you again, that he had lost a piece of his heart forever. The summer of ‘02 he had met the love of his life and he had counted his lucky stars every day that he was also the love of yours. 

You’d stayed by his side through every hurdle. You’d helped him get clean after his addiction which could have torn the two of you apart, held his hand through every single NA meeting and soothed him through withdrawals.

You’d gone to every doctor's appointment with him while he was suffering from debilitating headaches, dried his tears when he thought Emily had died and held his hand at the funeral. You’d felt his anger towards JJ and Hotch when Emily came back from the dead. 

You’d done the same when Gideon died, when Morgan left the team and then Hotch. You’d visited him every day in prison and told him on every visit that no matter how long it took you would be waiting for him when he got out. 

“Until death do us part, Doc. I didn’t take our vows lightly.” 

He held you closer, trying to communicate to you just how much your love and support had meant to him over the years. 

“Have I ever thanked you for getting off that bus?” He sighed in content. 

“Only every single day since.” You giggled, still after all these years his absolute favourite sound in the world. 

He laughed with you, holding you impossibly closer and breathing in the scent of your perfume he still loved so much. 

One summer had turned his whole life upside down. One glorious summer changed everything. That summer and the memories the two of you had created would forever live on, even without that old journal. But you were right, he couldn’t live in the past forever, nor would he want to. His present was as close to perfect as it could possibly be. 

And even in the coldest depths of winter, you would always be the summer of Spencer Reid’s heart. 

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had.

[sidekick-hero]

Dear Future Self

(steddie | 14.5k | explicit | tags: Time Travel, threesome (two Eddies and Steve), self-cest, pwp, double penetration, smut and fluff, POV switches | AO3)

Special Shoutout to @legitcookie with whom I started writing this AGES ago but never managed get very far. I still remember us having so much fun with this idea. I hope you like where I took it 💜

This whole fic is inspired by one of my favorite artists: https://twitter.com/ShinyDirtyCoin/status/1642688399348727808

Summary:

After the events of March '86, Eddie pines for his new friend, the former king of Hawkins High. Too scared to make a move, he has resigned himself to a life as Steve's friend and nothing more. That is, until one hot summer day, a naked guy appears out of nowhere in Steve's bedroom. The naked guy is him from the future, and he says he's here to help Eddie pull his head out of his ass. It turns out that he and Steve are a happy couple in the future. And as if that wasn't enough, he also offers to teach Eddie how to properly fulfill Stevie's needs. Sexy shenanigans ensue.

Spicy snippet under the cut

Then he looks back at Future Eddie. "Okay, then tell us, what is something that you and your Steve have always wanted to try but haven't yet?"

It's clearly the right question, because Future Eddie's eyes go wide, the warm chocolate brown darkening with desire.

"Oh, Stevie. You keep surprising me. You really wanna know?" That last part is clearly directed at Eddie, who's been suspiciously quiet.

Eddie shifts behind him and Steve gasps in surprise as he feels his hard length against the small of his back. He had no idea how turned on Eddie was just by talking about it.

"Yeah." It's just a word, said softly, but Steve can hear the desire in Eddie's rough voice and it makes him shiver with anticipation.

"Good." With that, Future Eddie turns to rummage through Steve's nightstand. The blanket slips from his form, revealing miles of lean muscle and scared, tattooed skin to Steve's hungry gaze.

When Future Eddie turns back to them, he's holding Steve's pink dildo.

"One of the best things that ever happened was when I came home early one day when we first started dating and I found you in my room using this on yourself."

"Oh my God," Eddie and Steve say again in unison. Steve hides his face in his hands, white-hot embarrassment flooding his body. Eddie, on the other hand, wraps himself around him even tighter, his breath hot against Steve's ear.

"Don't. This is the hottest thing I've ever heard. Please, promise to let me watch you someday. Please, Stevie, sweetheart."

Eddie sounds almost desperate for it and it helps a lot to make Steve less embarrassed.

It's Future Eddie who pulls his hands away from his face. "He's right. To this day, I get hard just thinking about it. You're always gorgeous, baby, but watching you give yourself over to your own pleasure is the closest thing to heaven I'll ever get."

"But that's not what I was getting at. After I saw you with your little toy and assured you how fucking hot it was, we decided to play with it together from time to time. Using it on each other, sometimes with our tongues or fingers joining the party. God, Stevie, the first time I added a finger to the dildo in your ass, you went crazy. You came all over yourself with nothing on your cock. Had me almost following you just because it was so hot to watch."

Steve wants to be embarrassed again, feels the blush deepen in his cheeks. But the way Eddie's grinding against his back, his breath coming in the form of quickening pants, the hot breath puffing against his sweaty neck, it's easy to push the feeling down. It helps that he's already hard and aching, and part of him wishes Eddie would stop grinding against his back and just push into him. If he were a girl he would be wet and dripping, ready for Eddie's length to fill him. Ready for Eddie to take him, to use him, to make Steve his.

Future Eddie looks at him, looks at both of them, as if he can read every filthy thought going through their minds. And he probably can. After all, he knows them. He knows them better than they know themselves in that respect.

Future Eddie leans in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "One of the hottest things we ever tried? It was the first time we used that pink dildo while I was fucking you. I had you on your hands and knees, both of us a sweaty mess, and I pushed it in while I kissed down your spine. Had you stretched out with my fingers, three of them inside you next to my cock. You were so fucking full baby, rim stretched so wide to make room for me. And the way you moaned my name, Stevie... I've never heard anything like it."

Steve can feel Eddie's breath hitching behind him, the heat from his body almost unbearable. He knows Eddie is picturing it, just like he is, and the thought makes his pulse quicken. Future Eddie's words hang in the air, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

"We talked about this later. How much you loved being so full, stretched almost to the limit. You said the only thing missing was the feeling of having two real cocks inside you. The fake feeling of the dildo replaced by the real deal. Hot, pulsating flesh. Two loads dripping out of you."

Someone moans brokenly and he's not sure if it's him or Eddie.

"But you may have noticed," Future Eddie gives his past self an amused look, "but I'm not good at sharing. Especially not you. So inviting a stranger was always out of the question."

His gaze becomes pointed, eyes roaming over their tangled bodies, and Steve feels another shiver run through his body. He thinks he knows what’s coming.

"So," Eddie surprisingly fills the ensuing silence, his mouth pressed to Steve's ear. "You want us both to fill you up? Is that it? Two dicks stuffing your hole?"

READ THE WHOLE THING ON AO3

[iwritesinsnottragedieshoney]

litty swimsuit (spencer reid)

paring: spencer reid x reader

summary: the team vacations at rossi's summer residence while spencer reid deals with insecurities, emotions beyond his control, and a y/n litty swimsuit.

genre: i guess fluff, but towards the end it changes into the beginning of smut, but nothing serious, actually.

warnings: spencer being a little insecure; one or two curses; some sexually tinged comments; maybe some spicy scenes at the end, but, like i said before, nothing hard; a lot of use of the phrase "frown".

word count: 11, 631

notes: this is the first time i post anything here and the first time i write something about spencer so i hope i didn't screw things up. english is also not my first language, some words may be used incorrectly just because the translator thinks it's a synonym and i believe him, so… have fun :) (every pic is from pinterest, i don't own them).

spencer walked out through rossi's glass door, his nostrils filled with the unmistakable smell of chlorine, mixed with a hint of summer afternoon and sunscreen.

the sun was in its full stage and he frowned slightly at the thought of the impact of sunlight on the human body and the consequences of the time spent outside then — he focused mainly on the negative ones, because they came to his mind the fastest. but he immediately pushed them away, frowning even harder. aside from forgetting his sunglasses from his room, he remembered what morgan had told him when they arrived at rossi's summer house: you need to chill out a bit, man. look, a whole week off work and a whole week with y/n in a swimsuit! she told emily it's litty.

spencer didn't understand a few things at the time, and unfortunately for him, they were all centered around y/n.

first of all, he had no desire to chill out a bit and didn't look like he was going to be able to do that anytime soon. two weeks ago there was a chance for a vacation for the whole team. someone (emily) discreetly remarked (gathered everyone in the check-in room thanks to garcia who sent everyone a flashing, unlockable message to the work computers) that it would be nice to spend time at rossi's summer residence at that time, which he readily agreed to (not really, but everyone had time to nod their heads appreciatively over garcia's presentation, where she presented the arguments for and rossi was bribed with the idea of themed Italian evenings).

spencer obviously didn't mind spending time with the team. apart from them, he didn't really have any other friends, and his mother was going to be involved in activities that would conflict with his possible visit, so he had no plans. he even lifted the corners of his mouth for a brief moment. that subsided, however, when the travel talks began a few days later, and y/n elbowed him lightly in the ribs and said she had a bunch of light and silly romances ready so she could read one a day, which is pretty much like as if they were reading at the same pace. then he realized that if he spent a whole week with the team, he'd spend it with y/n as well, and his stress-adrenaline spiked so high he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying to his desk at the time.

it's not like he didn't like y/n. because he liked. actually, very much so. derek said he's totally head over heels.

and guess that was the problem.

when y/n joined the team, which happened exactly six months, eight days, twenty-one hours and thirty-two minutes ago, she totally turned his head, as penelope said. she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met, and her smiles were either very wide or delightfully stretchy (these were spencer's favourites, because then there were tiny wrinkles around her eyes and her cheeks were slightly pink), and when she greeted meeting him for the first time, she raised her hand in an awkward greeting at the same time he did, then laughed out loud before finally saying her name with the smile still on her face.

he wasn't sure if he was just imagining it, and he didn't even want to check if it was, but he felt that y/n had become a very good friend to him. someone who listened to what he had read last time in a new science article that appeared in a kiosk outside his block and didn't roll his eyes; someone who showed up with coffee and a donut when he was having a bad day; someone who used to come to his hotel room when things were done with chinese takeout to watch documentaries on TV; someone who played cards with him (even if y/n made up her own rules that were often meant to win only her); someone who eventually became more than just a good friend to him.

he couldn't even tell when he wished they were more. all he knew was that there was no chance of any change in that direction between them. girls like y/n weren't interested in guys like spencer, he knew it. he didn't want his stupid feelings to end. he liked the fact that y/n was somehow close, and if only she knew how he felt about her, he wouldn't have survived the humiliation of rejection.

anyway, when spencer realized that y/n would also be joining them on the trip, he panicked slightly. since she'd joined the team, they'd only spent time together at work and on field case, and that made their relationship somewhat limited (reason infinite why spencer thought maybe even their friendship was a bit forced). spencer would never have dared to offer her anything else because she might think he was asking her out (he hadn't asked derek yet, but he was pretty sure going to a museum to see the remains of a newly found tomb didn't count as a date, but he preferred not risk), and then she would surely refuse, which is why they did not meet outside of work. unless it was about going out to bars with the team.

y/n never proposed anything either (derek said it was because spencer wasn't giving her enough indication of his interest in such a proposal, but spencer thought being neutral about everything about y/n was safe and a chance to be too pushy), so spencer only confirmed his conviction. he was destined to be friend.

however, he began to have merciless thoughts about the possible end of their relationship, precisely because of the vacation trip to rossi's summer estate. eventually y/n will have to realize that spencer is actually incredibly boring, and his habits, behaviors, and interests are not at all caused by the situations that another case puts in their way. he will understand that spencer watches TV documentaries not because there is nothing more interesting on the hotel TV, but because he likes to do it. after all, no one willingly watches television documentaries! everyone knows it!

and on the one hand he knew that these thoughts were irrational rather than worth considering, but on the other hand he watched his surroundings for any signs that might prepare him for an imminent farewell to the warm feeling he felt inside when y/n appeared on the horizon.

spencer was sure that there were plenty of other things that y/n could find out about him during the trip and lose interest in him even at the level of work colleagues, so from the beginning of the trip he tried not to drive the stress reel and didn't think about it anymore, and it was either better or worse.

the other thing he didn't understand about derek was the y/n litty swimsuit. to be honest, spencer wasn't very interested in the y/n swimsuit until derek mentioned it. he didn't even combine the trip with swimsuits. but now he was definitely interested in it, and he was horrified that he was beginning to think of his co-worker and best friend in that context. he tried not to imagine it too often, but his thoughts involuntarily wandered in that direction when they were filling out reports at the office a day or two before, when he was in the shower, when he was going to bed, and when they were on the plane here. so, well, he wasn't doing very well.

but back to when he left rossi's house for his backyard swimming pool — derek was right, he needed to chill out a bit.

the swimming pool was rectangular in shape and was crossed by a volleyball net; on one side were hotch and morgan, and on the other side, emily and jj, who were clearly already engaged in the game for good, as the cheers directed at the men indicated victory and their considerable excitement. reid remembered derek's words again and refrained from telling them about the dangers of exerting himself in a place that was so exposed to the sun's rays. chill out a bit.

he descended the small steps to the stone path that flanked the pool, only guessing how hot the slabs of stone could get under his slipper-protected feet. he noticed that rossi, who was doing a crossword puzzle, was sitting at a table covered with a red umbrella, and probably wouldn't look up even if an african elephant ran in front of him. morgan's words rang again in spencer's ears, and he didn't stop to look over the man's shoulder and solve a few passwords. chill out a bit.

so reid walked on, toward white, comfortable-looking loungers. they were tucked away in the shade, far enough away that the noises coming from the pool wouldn't be annoying and that their distance wouldn't seem exaggerated. on one of them was penelope, holding a glass of iced coffee in one hand and a kindle in the other, which she was staring at intently.

spencer looked around discreetly, but saw no y/n anywhere. he knew she was the first to leave the house — at six o'clock in the morning he wasn't awake enough to get up, but he heard her soft footsteps down the hall and the slam of the front door. he didn't know where she was, but when he opened his eyes again, the whole team was downstairs, discussing something quite loudly. it was early afternoon now, and spencer was angry with himself for not being able to get up early enough. he felt as if he didn't know as much as the others. as if he missed something.

he sat down precariously on one of the deckchairs, the one closest to penelope's, and gripped the leather-bound book he'd brought with him a little tighter. he ordered it from his local bookstore a month ago, and the delivery difficulties only made him want to devour it whole, but now, when y/n wasn't around, he somehow didn't feel like opening it. he involuntarily looked towards the garden, remembering that when they arrived three days ago, y/n had disappeared there for a good hour. maybe she went to see that little pond she'd been telling him about...

"what are you looking for?" garcia's suspicious voice reached his ears, and he immediately felt a treacherous blush rise to his cheeks. "or rather, for whom."

she added the last one with a noticeable smirk in her voice, as if she knew the answer to her question all along, and spencer wouldn't be surprised if she really did.

he looked at her, still slightly surprised by her unexpected remark; the blonde lifted her sunglasses so that they rested on top of her head, her fingers gently, almost soundlessly, tapping the kindle's surface.

he noticed that her nails were painted a dark blood red. just like emily wore. and jj. probably similar to y/n. apparently it was the result of their ladies' night last night, which had dragged on until one in the morning, which spencer knew because there was a wall between his and emily's room that was thin enough for him to hear music and laughter coming from the room. that was the main reason why he got up later than the others today.

"i don't..." he began, but before he could somehow prevent a minor annoyance that would surely have lasted into the evening, the patio doors slid open and shut just as forcefully.

spencer looked over at them, frowning at the glare of the sun.

y/n trotted hurriedly towards them, her thick-soled flip-flops making a distinctive sound with each step she took. she was wearing a slightly tight, ankle-length skirt of mesh material with a lining and a light green tank top with thin straps. in her hand was a shopping bag, which she placed between spencer's and garcia's sun loungers. her chest was rising and falling at a rhythmic but not too fast pace, which indicated she was in a hurry.

“i will never go back there again,” she declared, plopping down on the lounger where spencer was sitting. she was clearly addressing penelope, but a second later she was elbowing him in the shoulder. "where have you been all morning? the vacation book club meeting must have started without you, though i swear i fought like a lioness."

even if she wasn't quite close, he could smell her cherry mist, and when he looked a little closer, he noticed that thin strings of a bikini trailed up from underneath the tank top and tied in a bow shape at the nape of the neck. chill out a bit.

"i overslept," he stammered, wishing he was someone with a better explanation.

"oh no, is it us?" y/n looked genuinely worried. „jj and i tried to turn the music down but emily was adamant. and then we went a bit too far with the alcohol and music was the last thing on our minds."

"no, i... forgot to set my alarm clock." thought up on the spur of the moment, but y/n tilted her head slightly doubtfully.

she didn't comment on it, though, because her attention was drawn to penelope, who until then had been interested mainly in the lines of text on her kindle, now clutched it tightly to her chest and, her lips parted in excitement, leaned towards y/n.

"did it work? does the red nail theory work? answer, woman!" her eyelids were wide open and her pale cheeks flushed a little pink.

"what is the red nail theory?" spencer asked, frowning again, this time in confusion.

he was used to the fact that he didn't know much about currently pop culture and usually had to get information from team members or search the internet himself. he did it a bit more often lately, because y/n would run into the office from time to time and tell him in an emotional voice about the latest happenings in the world of celebrities that he had no idea about. but if y/n was interested, he wanted to, if only so he wouldn't stand there stock-still and nod his head in an attempt to understand.

"oh, it's such a stupid notion that if you paint your nails red, guys will stick to you like flies," she replied, as always without impatience, waving her hand dismissively, which only underlined her attitude towards the matter. spencer, however, saw the red on her fingernails.

“it's widely believed that the color red symbolizes passion, desire and, of course, love. a survey was conducted which revealed that…” spencer began, unable to resist sharing this information with her; he stopped, however, when penelope waved a kindle in front of his nose, as if to chase away a persistent insect.

"y/n! did mark make a move?!”

"who is mark?"

in his defense, it had slipped out faster than he had time to think. the tone in which garcia's question was uttered indicated that mark had already been the subject of conversations and was obviously known to someone other than y/n. that in turn meant (spencer unintentionally connected the assumption with his own suspicions) that y/n was romantically interested in someone, and probably someone — how could not — reciprocated. especially since the woman's cheeks had turned slightly pink.

spencer felt his stomach turn inside out; never thought he had any chance with y/n, but sometimes it was nice to daydream a bit. but now those dreams had become almost utopian, though earlier, he liked to tell himself, they had been possible if he hadn't been such a coward and had perhaps agreed to go to the gym with morgan.

“he's a clerk in that little shop we passed on our way here. remember, the one with the white wooden sign and the blue lettering. anyway, penelope thinks he's a muffin ready to munch, which i guess means he's relatively attractive," y/n replied again, in the same tone as before; this time, however, she didn't wave her hand, but ostentatiously rolled her eyes.

"hello? when will it be time to answer my questions?” the blonde got impatient and slid her legs off the lounger and seemed ready to pin y/n to the ground and force all the answers out of her.

y/n smiled softly (apparently the danger in garcia's eyes was no problem for her) and bent down to reach for the shopping bag at her feet. she was clearly looking for something and was knocking over the rest of her purchases as she did so, but she took her time to answer penelope.

"i'm not sure about that theory, pen. i bought you a couple of canned sodas and some magazines from the display at the back of the store, and mark was mostly looking at my boobs, not my nails. this confirmed what i had always thought of him — that he is quite a jerk. i don't know, girls, maybe you should be interested in someone valuable."

spencer lifted the corner of his mouth, the one that the others couldn't see; he didn't know the whole mark, but enjoyed the way y/n thought of him. he just didn't know who he was. he liked to think he wasn't a jerk, but he wasn't sure he was valuable either. he was curious if there was anything in between.

“this is not some husband contest, y/n. it's our carefully crafted hot girls summer," penelope reminded her, and this time she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

reid refrained from asking another question.

“then i'm afraid our hot girls summers are quite different,” y/n replied, finally pulling a few magazines out of the plastic bag and stacking them neatly on her lap, frowning in concentration. “i bought rossi another crossword puzzle because i saw him finishing the one in the morning paper. jj and emily said they didn't need anything but i bought them a gossip magazine anyway. the only thing i didn't know was what to get hotch... anyway, penelope, i didn't spend a dime on you. it's for those stupid messages you've been sending me all morning! and for your information, my inner tigress didn't pounce on a couple of ribs."

penelope moaned martyrdom, throwing her head back and returning to her previous position, turning on her kindle again. y/n didn't seem too concerned about it, in fact, not at all, and turned around a bit to face spencer. her mouth stretched into that familiar excited smile, and her cheeks seemed to still be tinted with a soft pink as the woman proudly held out to him a sealed magazine with a dvd inside.

"dr. reid, here's the second part of the documentary we started watching during this case in baltimore." her tone was high, but spencer still sensed a hint of laughter in it. “on the way back i also saw a nice restaurant that delivers orders. it's not chinese, but i don't mind indian food. you like indian food, right? i can look for something else, i think i saw something at the end of the pier...

“indian food sounds nice, y/n,” spencer said reassuringly, giving her a small smile.

it all sounded nice. it was nice to think that y/n looked at the popular science section and thought of him; about wanting to watch a nature documentary with him and eat takeout. spencer didn't want to think otherwise, and even thought that maybe all his fears about leaving weren't very rational.

"oh god, i hope you guys gonna fuck while doing this or i'll drown you in the pool..." penelope's totally serious voice broke the smiling silence between them like a knife blade.

spencer made an indistinct noise, blushing to the tips of his ears while y/n seemed extremely angry.

“you know what, pen, i'd rather fuck spencer with a documentary on africa insects running in the background than go out with all that mark. i bet he's an indebted loser who doesn't even own a boat, which would be quite derogatory given the name his shop bears." hissed y/n.

spencer felt like he was shrinking with each passing second; y/n's hand and the magazine it held were digging into his chest, and penelope's eyes shone again with a dangerous glow, which together with the accusing finger was quite a disturbing sight.

"i see! so he invited you after all!” she exclaimed, and y/n dropped the magazine from her hand, which with a rustling sound fell to his lap and arranged her hands in such a way as if she wanted to strangle the blonde.

"yes, penelope!" y/n raised her voice. “he said something like maybe we can go out together or something and i said yeah, rather not, or something and immediately left the place. are you satisfied yet?”

penelope frowned a bit and sank back into the chair with a clearly disconsolate expression. she felt a little silly, just like y/n, who tried to straighten up a bit to give herself some dignity and brushed her skirt off her knee as if there were a few crumbs there, but they weren't.

"are you sure he was looking at your boobs and not your nails?" asked penelope after a moment.

"yes."

“well, then he is indeed a loser without a boat. pity. i liked his chin."

"oh, penelope," sighed y/n and smiled slightly as the blonde did the same.

y/n bent down again to put the magazines back in the plastic bag, and spencer moved his leg slightly, hoping the tense atmosphere had just ended. he didn't quite know what he could do if things got worse. he was also pleased to hear about the reunion of mark and y/n. he hoped he'd gotten away with it and wouldn't try to be interested in her again, but at the same time he wondered what he'd do if he heard the y/n words himself. yeah, rather not, or something. it sounded like his personal hell.

"pretty girl is back!"

they looked towards the pool. morgan was walking toward them in red swimming trunks that went past his knees, arms wide open, the corner of his mouth raised dangerously. apparently the little volleyball match had just ended; hotch was disappearing inside rossi's house as jj and emily were slowly approaching them.

"so what? we are going to play the game?" morgan asked, aiming the words at the y/n.

for a brief moment, the woman's face showed surprise, but then her mouth curved into a mocking grimace.

"if i didn't know you, morgan, i'd think you liked being humiliated. sure we're playing, i just need to get changed." y/n got up from the lounger and, grabbing the shopping bag, headed for the patio doors. as she passed the morgan, she looked over her shoulder at him, whispering, "i'll destroy you."

"you wish, honey." derek snorted, but it was hard to tell if y/n had heard his words because she didn't react to them in any way.

you wish, honey. he wondered what reaction y/n would get if he called her that nickname. he wasn't very good with words and it would probably end up painfully awkward. spencer would like to be like morgan — smooth in conversation, which he was able to combine with his appearance. would like to talk to y/n per honey. or whatever y/n finds attractive.

spencer saw the woman stop by rossi and hand him a crossword puzzle book, and the man patted her hand, giving her a smile. he didn't even notice how it appeared on his face as well. y/n was good, generous and open-minded, and spencer knew he could count on her, and that other people important to him could count on her, too.

"come on reid, get ready." threw derek in his direction, waking him from his lethargy.

spencer looked at him with surprise and maybe a little fear in his eyes. after years of being near derek's desk, he was used to the little teases derek gave him — he understood that they were never intended to hurt him, and he usually brushed them off or tried to respond to them in a similar way. but he also knew that sometimes morgan couldn't keep his mouth shut, and he feared that derek's swashbuckling smirk had something to do with y/n. he didn't know what it was yet, but he sure had it.

at the same time, emily and jj also appeared, sitting together on the deckchair on the other side of penelope and smiling at them, clearly tired.

"morgan, haven't you had enough? i wouldn't mess with y/n, she's pretty good at this stuf," emily muttered, scratching her ankle. "if i were you, i wouldn't pick myself up after a second failure."

"oh yeah, she took extra classes when she was in high school." jj supported her, nodding her head.

"oh please. i gave you a head start. like the gentleman i am." derek leaned forward with his hand on his chest, and they shook their heads in amusement.

spencer was about to ask what exactly it was about when the patio doors slid open again. automatically he looked towards the terrace and involuntarily parted his lips.

for a brief moment he thought he couldn't make any sound, let alone understandable and logical words. he didn't know what made him more emotional — how pretty y/n's face looked in the two braids that were now bouncing gently with her steps, or maybe the fact that her swimsuit was really litty and even spencer's mind wasn't in the mood could prepare him for how amazing she could look in it.

it was a two-piece, bottle green. spencer could see the bindings that held the top of the suit together — the ones at the nape of his neck (which he had seen before) and moments ago when she had her back to him for two seconds, closing the door behind her, also the one on her back. in addition, on both sides of her hips there were similar, but indetachable, decorative strings.

despite his sincere wish not to think too much of her in that particular sinful way, he had to refrain from imagining a moment when he would be allowed to pull either of them.

“i was just telling a pretty boy to get ready to kick his ass,” morgan said as y/n stopped in front of them.

"you didn't mention any kicking my ass and i still don't know what you mean," spencer replied, then frowned as penelope put in something from her kindle about how she liked it when he said ass.

"oh yes." y/n grabbed the end of one of the braids and gave him an apologetic look. “so a month ago morgan saw my volleyball medals while he was helping me redecorate my bedroom and said we absolutely had to go against him because he thinks he’s totally rocking.”

"because i rock."

"anyway, this morning while you were still sleeping, i got a little competitive and got you involved too." she sounded like she was genuinely sorry, but when her gaze met derek, her tone changed completely. "so you better stretch yourself morgan or we're going to crush you completely!"

y/n shot both of her index fingers at derek, and he laughed out loud and walked off towards the pool, where the woman's narrowed eyes led him.

spencer swallowed hard and clenched his hands again on the cover of his book. it was a real disaster unfolding to the cheers of the girls as y/n started her warm-up with feigned zeal.

subconsciously, he knew that he wasn't some important part of this two-man team — y/n clearly had no plans to involve him in the game beforehand, and it probably came about as a result of everyone's familiar scuffles between her and derek. yet he felt his stomach turn inside out again as he thought about the fact that he would have to take part in a game in which he was hopeless in front of everyone else.

"y/n." the woman looked at him, with a determined expression on her face, although a moment ago she had just been training her menacing gaze under the supervision of emily, whose role of focused trainer was not going very well. "can we talk somewhere else?"

"sorry girls, we have to talk about our super tactics"

they walked to the opposite end of the pool, hearing the excited voices of the girls behind them, who were just in the process of coming up with cheering slogans. spencer felt even worse when he thought that apparently most of the team knew about the planned showdown between y/n and derek and were looking forward to it.

"the thing is, i hit in your direction and you take straight to his half and so twenty-five times..."

"y/n, i'm not good at volleyball. actually, i'm not good at any sport that requires physical exertion." he confessed, reluctantly interrupting her.

for a nanosecond, y/n's enthusiasm waned a bit, but then she frowned, confused.

"what are you talking about? i'm sure you're great. besides, you're tall!" she remarked, sending him a smile and shrugging.

"and what about it?"

"all volleyball players are tall." she shrugged again, and spencer sighed softly.

then y/n turned serious and placed her hands on his thin shoulders. even though her hands were only touching him through the gray cotton t-shirt he was wearing, spencer felt the tips of his ears turn red gradually.

the team knew about his reluctance to have close physical contact, and spencer made sure that all new people he met were also informed. he knew penelope had told y/n about it before the woman noticed him sitting at his desk, and he was grateful to her that he had missed this awkward conversation. however, spencer quickly realized that he actually doesn't mind physical contact as long as the person he's having it with is y/n.

her acts of kindness and friendship drew him into his terrible crush with each working day, and made him more and more aware of the need for her touch. he had even unconsciously searched for it, provoking occasions for his fingertips to touch hers, to pass documents, for her arm to brush against his as they walked down the not-too-wide corridor to the briefing room, and for his hand to be within reach, when one day the plugs in the office went out and it became completely dark.

he naively thought he was being discreet about it — but the team quickly noticed his lack of aversion to her touch and made jokes about it. spencer hoped that their remarks didn't reach y/n and that she didn't notice it herself — he was able to make do with whatever physical intimacy she unwittingly gave him.

however, he realized that y/n arranged the touch herself, almost on the same level as she maintained with the rest of the team.

now she was staring deep into his eyes, and reid hoped the red didn't spread to his cheeks as well.

"listen to me, spencer. i won't say it's just for fun because i'm fucking desperate to win and i'm not going to give morgan the satisfaction, but i will say that i believe your volleyball player is deep inside of you and just needs a gentle push to bring him to the surface," she whispered, which made spencer look pained.

"i'm afraid he's already there. he's floating, more precisely. because he's dead."

"you see? it's not so bad if you still have your sense of humor," she laughed, patting his shoulder, but her laughter died away as she crossed arms over her chests, leaning towards him with a worried expression. he tried not to show the disappointment of losing her hand on his body. "spencer, i can tell derek you don't want to play. i know i should have asked you first."

"what's going on there?! y/n, you can give up now!" derek leaned against the wall of his half of the field with a grin and waited for them to arrive.

they looked in his direction, but y/n quickly returned her gaze to spencer's face.

he knew that volleyball was not his strong suit. just as he knew the last thing he wanted was to humiliate himself in front of the team and, of course, in front of y/n because of it. but he noticed how excited she was. and he didn't want her to lose the sparkle in her eyes he saw when she explained their rather unreal tactics to him.

"i'll do it," he decided at last, nodding his head a few times, just in case, to confirm himself in this decision.

y/n opened her mouth in surprise and grabbed his wrist as he started towards the pool, forcing him to meet her eyes again.

"spencer, if you really don't want to, you don't have to."

"yeah, but suddenly i felt like kicking morgan's ass," he replied, though he didn't really know if he wanted to. he wanted to give her what she wanted, of that he was sure.

y/n stared at him intently, probably searching for something to contradict his words, but reid made sure his expression was convincing enough. in the end, the girl lost the fight with a huge smile, and from her chest came an excited sound like a combination of a squeak and a giggle.

"i like it when you say ass too!" she said and stole a kiss on his cheek, immediately turning on her heel and stepping into the pool.

spencer turned crimson and involuntarily raised his hand to touch his fingertips to the place where the muted pink y/n lips touched his skin. chill out a bit.

as he had predicted, he was not doing very well. emily, jj and penelope moved the sunbeds a little closer to the pool for a better view and started cheering for their team right from the start, which only distracted spencer and put even more pressure on him.

in addition, although he had suspected it for a long time, but now he was convinced of it, y/n, despite the whole package of good qualities, also had some worse ones, such as an unhealthy desire to compete and a need to be the best.

things seemed pretty stable at first — y/n let morgan go surfing first, definitely determined to win. she hit the first few throws and then ended them with a strong knockout of the ball that sprayed the water, announcing their first point. actually because of her, but y/n held up her hands for a high five as if it was a joint effort.

then there was a slight complication as derek hit the ball towards him, which spencer didn't expect at all and his bounce was too light for the ball to go over the net. y/n reassured him that everything was fine and kept playing, but spencer felt like the worst person in the world, especially since emily moaned in agony, even though that was only the first point lost (she had already taken another sip of something lemon yellow, but it wasn't lemonade and she was getting a little cranky).

y/n quickly rebounded and gained the upper hand, and spencer even managed to hit the ball a few times without sending it to the net or out of the water court. but eventually the losing streak came back and they lost points again, and a crease appeared between y/n's eyebrows that made spencer nervous.

it was twenty-two to nineteen for morgan, and the man had already indulged in a few snide comments. y/n with obvious impatience somehow made the ball finally hit the water on morgan's side and passed the ball to spencer with a serious expression.

reid liked it a lot better when he wasn't closer to the pool walls, and didn't get a few stressful stares on his shoulders while he was surfing, especially since he'd hit the ball out of court way too often. in addition, now he was sure that if he repeated it, he would hear a martyrdom moan not from emily's lips, but from y/n. then he would allow himself a small humiliating drowning.

he sighed softly, rolling the ball over in his hand. the kids at his school bounced it hard on the floor to give it a better bounce. spencer couldn't do that now, and he wasn't really sure if the tactic worked. every time he was in this place, he thought about how what he was best at would help him. however, there was not enough time to mess with physics.

he hit the ball down, grimacing, just in case.

however, contrary to his expectations, the ball went over the net and began to fall within the pool area, not on the stone path outside it.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corner of y/n's mouth twitch slightly upwards. the ends of her braids were wet with chlorinated water and dripping drops; spencer, wanting to preserve what little dignity he had, held back with all his might lest his gaze fall a little lower, where the drops ran down her skin and into the hollow between her breasts. he also judiciously ignored the fact that the soaked fabric of her bikini clung to her body, which seemed to reflect the sun's rays and seemed to glisten slightly. plus, her…

he couldn't say exactly what had happened, but he knew that one moment he was watching the y/n body moving in slow motion, and the next he was bended in half, feeling a dizzying, sharp pain shoot through his head. he remembered holding his hands to his face, feeling his nose twitch as still as a cartoon character who had just rung a big bell, and there was sudden chaos around him; several voices rose in surprise, someone close to him shouted his name, and the water around him surged, pushing him against the pool wall. he also felt something drip onto his fingers.

"god, spencer!" delicate, wet yet warm hands brushed uncertainly over his still veiled face, and spencer recognized the terrified y/n in that voice.

"dude, now you've got nothing left!"

"seriously, derek?!" y/n was furious, but when she turned to him again, her voice was soft but still nervous. "spencer, look at me. everything's all right?! pass the towel! rossi, go get the keys, we're going to the hospital! may be broken!"

the nose wasn't broken. which spencer knew as soon as he managed to get his questions answered from the panic-stricken team. no one noticed the swelling, and no hematomas appeared under his eyes; the profuse bleeding that y/n was trying to stop with more and more tissues, and the pain he felt didn't have to be signs of a fracture, though they could. the team wasn't going to take his word for it anyway, and hotch, though the most composed of the group, was firmly pressing on the accelerator.

spencer, apart from feeling like everything was spinning around him from time to time, he felt a bit overwhelmed; there was too much noise around him — his friends were arguing about who was to blame for his accident, y/n had her hand over his face (although he assured her he could still hold a few tissues) and was squeezing his hand tight, increasing the pressure when she was responding to morgan.

when they got to the hospital, and the doctor finally treated their panicked group, he only confirmed what spencer had suspected all along. he didn't even have a concussion, and this disturbingly profuse hemorrhage was caused by the rupture of a larger vessel. recommended ice packs and rest. something spencer could prescribe for himself.

they back to rossi's house in a slightly less nervous mood, though y/n didn't speak to derek, who had repeatedly apologized not only to spencer but also to her. y/n, however, seemed adamant and still preoccupied with the situation. spencer suspected she felt guilty because she had talked him into it, after all, though he had mentioned to her once or twice that it was nothing and that all symptoms would be gone by tonight.

as they crossed the threshold of the house, three waiting heads appeared from behind the living room wall, and again there was a din of explaining everything to the rest of the team, who had to stay because of emily's tip. spencer finally managed to get out of their company and quickly disappeared into his room before anyone noticed him.

from that moment on, two hours passed, which spencer spent lying motionless with an ice pack against his face. he stared at the ceiling and multiplied every now and then the number of panels on the floor. there was an eerie silence downstairs, and spencer wondered if everything was all right down there.

he was about to decide to get out of bed and go downstairs when there were two single knocks against his door. he called the person inside, and after a while a y/n head appeared.

"i have a bowl for your used ice pack and your book you left on the sun lounger," she said softly, smiling, seemingly slightly confused.

"come in," he replied, just as quietly, though there was no reason for them to communicate that way.

the previously awkward y/n grimace turned into her beautiful smile as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her. she was clutching his book to her chest and in the other hand she was holding the purple plastic bowl spencer had seen in the kitchen cupboard this morning.

he involuntarily smiled as he thought of how y/n reminded him of a small child who had just managed to sneak into a friend's room despite the watchful eyes of his parents — she jumped on his bed, then sat cross-legged and sighed heavily as spencer pulled the compress away from his face, to put it in the bowl.

"is it that bad?" he joked, raising his eyebrows to which y/n snorted mockingly.

"you don't even know how much. you look exactly the same!” she laughed as she placed the bowl with compress on the bedside table by spencer's bed. to do so, she had to lean over him, and this time the scent of her floral shampoo and mango lotion filled his nostrils; she must have taken a shower afterwards because he couldn't smell the chlorine on her. however, when y/n returned to her seat, her expression became a little more serious. "how do you feel? i know everyone asked you this way too many times already, but i'm really worried."

"much better. i think i've stopped feeling that throbbing pain, although that may just be because of the ice," he replied, smiling slightly. "and hey, you don't have to worry so much about it. i already told you it's okay and it's not your fault."

"yeah, but still. i don't know what we'd do if you slashed that pretty face."

spencer frowned as if he disliked her words, but y/n just laughed again. in fact, he had already wondered a few times if the fact that y/n called him pretty boy, like morgan, meant anything at all. a large number of voices in his head said that this was just another habit that the girl had picked up from derek, as she had done in the case of throwing balls of paper into the garbage cans. however, there was a part that made spencer's cheeks a little pink when he heard those words come out of her mouth. sometimes hearing it from her was completely different than hearing it from anyone else.

"yeah, morgan has already pointed that out," he said finally, feeling it had to be done.

it seems like y/n was just waiting for spencer to mention morgan because she suddenly gasped and jumped up on the mattress, frowning.

“you know, i was joking now, but it really pissed me off at the time! i was terrified because i had never seen so much blood while doing anything other than catching serial killers, and i thought it could end up much worse than a broken nose. and derek didn't care at all!" y/n's hands engaged the aggressive gesticulation mode that appeared on the horizon when she was really high. "i was so furious with him! and his irritating taunts on the way to the hospital!”

"what taunts?" he asked, confused.

of course he was aware that y/n and morgan had spent the entire drive to the hospital arguing, with garcia joining in from time to time, now trying to get them to agree, now putting in her two cents as if she couldn't hold back any longer. at the time, however, he was too preoccupied with his bleeding nose and maybe a little y/n touch as well to notice what exactly their heated discussion was about.

"never mind, suitably stupid for his level," y/n grunted, blushing unexpectedly and tucking her hair behind her ear, though not a strand fell to her cheek. “anyway, i had a bit of an argument with him, and now i feel a little guilty about him because, i have to admit, i went a bit too far. but i won't apologize to him so he doesn't think about it too much."

"but you'll reconcile, won't you? it would be a bit awkward if you won't," he murmured, partly to her, partly to himself.

before y/n could answer, however, the door swung open timidly after three hasty knocks. derek morgan's head looked inside, as if the man was well aware that they were talking about him and decided to intervene. however, there was a swashbuckling smile on his lips, the kind you couldn't be angry at.

"hey hey..." he crooned, smiling even wider. "how it's going?"

"how it should?" y/n answered the question with a question, annoyance evident in her voice. "he almost got a concussion."

"not at all," spencer interjected, but he was ignored by each of them.

"i'm sorry mom, it won't happened again," derek replied, making y/n utter an exasperated sigh. morgan walked in even though no one had actually invited him and approached them with a mysterious plastic bag in his hand. “penelope gave me a hint so i could think of a way to finally settle the conflict, and here it is: the chinese you obviously love. appreciate my efforts, pretty girl, they had to bring her from another town.”

"then i guess the thanks go to the supplier, mr. morgan," y/n noticed, and spencer saw that there was an amused sparkle behind the sternness of her gaze. the girl accepted the takeaway, much to morgan's satisfaction, and arranged it beside her. "nice of you. i stopped being mad at you about an hour and a half ago, but it's still cool."

morgan reached out to flick her nose and y/n slapped it, laughing loudly.

spencer, sitting with his legs stretched forward, leaned against the back of his wooden bed, watching their interaction. with displeasure he felt a nasty jealousy sprouting in his stomach; something about the sight of their casual touch, each of them knowing that this quarrel and the words that accompanied it had no meaning, made him almost see the green covering his fingers. and they had done it all right in front of him.

spencer laughed mentally. he was really pathetic — morgan and y/n were friends. and y/n still wasn't going to consider him, even if he got punched in the nose.

"oh, dude. i'd like to get punched in the nose too if it meant y/n would look after me," morgan sighed dreamily, turning to spencer, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"i'll take care of you too, morgan, if that's what you want. but before that, i'll give you a nose so we'll have one reason," y/n replied, causing the man to chuckle in an amused tone as he backed away towards the door.

"okay, i understand, i'm leaving now. have fun, kids," he said, then disappeared through the heavy door.

y/n shook her head, turning her body towards spencer. her silken hair, which had been braided since spencer had first laid eyes on her that afternoon, now fell over her shoulders, which were no longer covered by the t-shirt she had thrown on in a hurry as everyone ran around rossi's living room, occasionally catching spencer's shoulder, as if to reassure themselves that he was still standing there. she was wearing something a lot more elegant now, which belied spencer's idea that she had already showered. in that case, she'd already be wearing her yellow turtleneck pajamas, which spencer raised his eyebrows at the first time they had to share a room during the case.

instead of yellow turtles, reid saw a plain, rather thin, black shirt tucked into denim shorts. and it didn't look like a sleep suit. but actually spencer shouldn't be interested in that.

pushing those tactless thoughts away, he reached out for the plastic bag morgan had brought them.

it was filled with distinctive boxes, the sharp edges of which pushed the plastic bag apart, and the smell that wafted from them despite the paper reminded spencer of all those late nights spent with y/n in hotel rooms, during which the television was told by a weary voice about the life of individual species, and the woman was in the so close to him that her shoulder touched his. he only liked the smell for those memories.

y/n leaned over with interest to look at the bag as well. spencer realized after a short while that the girl's forehead was not far from his, and a little surprised by the sudden closeness, he lifted his head to look at her. y/n did the same, feeling his burning gaze on her and smiled softly without breaking eye contact.

for a brief moment, he felt as if there was absolutely nothing else around them. there were only y/e/c y/n irises, her lightly freckled nose that was to blame for the sun, and her pink lips. lips he would love to kiss. or even brush his own lips.

but before he opened it to say anything that might lead to that, his bedroom door groaned heavily, as it did when it was opened very slowly. they pulled away from each other almost immediately, turning their heads in their direction. spencer, for an irrational moment, even thought that hotch might be behind them, about to lead him out of his own room by the ear like a rascal of the worst kind. jesus, spencer, he reminded himself, you're a grown man. if you want to kiss a woman, you will.

however, it wasn't hotch's head that emerged from behind the door, but emily, who didn't seem as frisky as she had been a few hours ago. she eyed each of them and walked inside to the accompaniment of expectant silence from them.

"are you guys kissing?" she asked after a moment, an excited smile on her face as she tilted her head slightly.

"what? no!" spencer thought y/n seemed pretty flustered considering the fact that their faces were inches apart just moment ago and she was clearly trying to pretend that none of this had happened. well, nothing that spencer wasn't prepared for.

"say what you want. reid looks like a ripe tomato."

spencer choked on his own saliva, drawing the women's attention, and his hand immediately reached for the glass on his nightstand, which was half full of water.

"i-it's a compress." he wanted to somehow explain what his face looked like, but no one, including himself, seemed convinced (and the water had been standing here since last night and tasted bad).

"of course…"

"i thought you were going to look for a club," y/n put in a quick, drawing emily's attention back to her.

"because we're going. i just came to drop it off." emily held out a sealed magazine to her friend, in which reid recognized a nature documentary. "what a shame you're not going. it's always more fun with you."

"you'll be fine without me," she replied y/n, getting out of bed and walking over to the small TV set in the corner of the room. she sat down in front of the cabinet he was standing on and began unpacking the magazine with a concentrated frown. "thanks, emily. just don't overdo it this time, okay? you've already had a drink today."

"boredom!" the dark-haired woman dragged out the first syllable, grabbing the doorknob. "you talking like jj! i'm leaving before you infect me with your innocence!"

emily had indeed disappeared through the bedroom door, and after a while the sound of her heels could be heard as they left the floor in a hurry.

there was a silence in the room, one that y/n would surely describe as safely comfortable; such silences sometimes happened between them when they were filling out paperwork at their desks, sharing dried fruit (y/n loved dried apples, a fact spencer consciously remembered) when they were sitting side by side on the jet, sharing headphones because y/n wanted to show him her current musical obsession, or when they sat on the benches outside the office building during their lunch break and ate their breakfasts. they were good silences. and maybe that silence would be good too if spencer's brain wasn't working at full capacity. all the information he had gathered in the last dozen or so minutes was quite plausible.

"a penny for your thoughts, doctor," hummed y/n as she focused on pressing buttons on the rossi player; it was one of the more expensive ones, because it not only read vhs tapes, but also dvds. "i can hear them even from this distance."

"it's nothing, it's just... i wonder why you don't go out with girls," he replied after a moment's hesitation.

from his seat on the bed, he could see y/n's eyebrows frown a bit, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her ignorance about using the player or because of his words.

"i was about to go, i even let penelope rummage through my suitcase," she confessed. the player finally listened to her and slid out the dvd drive, where a disc with a nature documentary soon landed. “but i thought about the first day of our trip that i spent watching some action movie with morgan, and yesterday i got drunk with the girls. we miss each other a bit, don't you think? and today, when we finally did something together, you ended up in the hospital. so we'll lighten our spirits with some fun-facts about the insects of africa. how about that, doctor?"

spencer smiled weakly as y/n looked over her shoulder at him. now he felt even worse than when morgan had hit him with the volleyball — it all sounded to him as if y/n had decided to sacrifice a girls' night out of guilt and resentment for spending time with him.

“y/n, you should go out with the girls. it will probably be much more interesting than here with me,” he said finally, but as the words hung between them, he didn't feel any easier than he'd expected, and even harder. especially since y/n looked over her shoulder at him again, her brows heavily furrowed.

"you're kidding? i'd much rather eat chinese and watch a nature documentary with you than walk emily home drunk." she shook her head as if he had said the stupidest thing she had heard in a long time; the TV brightened up and showed the output page of the document. "by the way... we haven't watched anything together lately... i missed it."

"you miss it?" he stammered, perhaps a little too surprised in a voice judging by the way y/n was clearly confused, blushing.

“well, yes… i have the impression that this is our little tradition. you know, something that's only ours. i can't imagine morgan watching nature documents with us, because who would you whisper additional information into the ear first?” she asked, involuntarily laughing softly.

she got up off the floor, holding the remote in her right hand as she turned off the light with her left. the room went dark, and spencer swallowed hard, seeing the figure of y/n slowly approaching him, crouching by the nightstand to flick the light switch.

the light, dimmed by the lampshade, was a soft red that spread over the walls of the room. spencer felt like y/n had never looked so beautiful, and at the same time he felt the tension in the air.

"it's cool, i like it," whispered y/n, sitting tentatively on the edge of the mattress, near his hips. "but you've been acting weird lately and we stopped doing that."

"weird?" he repeated, frowning. god, he wanted so badly to place his hands behind her ear at that moment and pull her to him; he wanted the moment before emily came back.

“you stopped talking to me, starting conversations on your own and all. i felt like i was the only one trying. every time i walked into the room you and the team stopped talking and all eyes were on me. i don't need to be a profiler to know you were talking about me. but everyone said it wasn't about me, so i guess i let it go a bit and tried not to think about it too much, but it still wasn't the same between us." as she spoke, y/n kept her head down and didn't seem to want to look up at him. "i thought you'd come to my room when we had a case in chester like always, but you didn't. and not later either. and later too. and you acted like nothing happened. plus, it really annoyed me that you stared at me without saying a word, and when i asked what was going on, you said it was nothing, but then you did it again."

y/n jumped out of bed, crossing her arms over her chest. she also began pacing in a characteristic way, as if in thought. her eyes roamed all the furniture she could find, but finally fixed her gaze on him.

"okay, am i exaggerating? i feel like i kind of did, and now i've said all those things and i feel really stupid…”

"no!" spencer raised his voice a little more than was necessary. he sprang up from the mattress, tired of the thought that the woman might think that the matter they were discussing was not important to him. "i…"

"stay still, the doctor said you might get dizzy," y/n interrupted him as she approached him.

"i'm not dizzy," he replied, but y/n had already reached out to him, as if to gently push him towards the bed.

"lie down," she insisted, but without much thought spencer grabbed her hands and lowered them to the level of their hips.

"no, listen to me. i'm sorry i've been acting this way lately," he said, and when he finally realized he was holding y/n's hands firmly, he let go a bit, but not too much; so that he can still touch her warm skin. “i… i was avoiding you a bit because the whole trip was so stressful and i started thinking too much and it influenced my behavior, but…

"stressful? why?"

"because... it's so stupid." he ran his hand through his hair, but his dark strands fell over his forehead anyway; it made him even angrier. “the thing is, i realized we'd start spending time together outside of work, and then you'd see i'm the same spencer from the office when i'm not at the office. and then you'll realize what a boring person i am and you won't want to hang out with me anymore. and i... i like you, y/n. i like you so much that i'm afraid of losing you because of me."

y/n frowned worriedly, tilting her head slightly. for a brief moment she stared at a point on his shoulder, as if searching for the right words. spencer, on the other hand, was feeling more and more nauseous as it dawned on him that perhaps the words he'd used shouldn't have been spoken to his friends, even though they sneakily sounded appropriate.

"well..." y/n sighed, leading him back to the mattress where they sat next to each other. spencer anticipated the worst and was slowly starting to feel like the biggest fool. he had a big mouth and always talked too much, everyone told him so. "i guess it's good that you're still spencer from the office when you're out of the office, right? because i wouldn't want you to be anyone else."

he looked at her and the woman smiled softly, still holding his hand.

"and you're not boring and i can't believe you think that of yourself! you're the most interesting person i know," she assured. “you are the only person in my circle of friends with whom i can watch all the movies in the world, because there is a 99% chance that you will be able to translate dialogues for me fluently! and the only one who can read and summarize the book i forgot to read for my book club, and i didn't have to be an ignorant who doesn't know anything about "pride and prejudice."

“you got all the threads with mr. darcy mixed up anyway,” he reminded her, smiling at the memory.

"i know and that's why i don't go there anymore!" y/n laughed as well, her shoulders trembling slightly.

even now he could picture in his mind the moment y/n walked into the office, heading without thinking to his desk with an expression of pure horror and embarrassment. half laughing, half almost crying, she related to him a meeting of her book club she had started attending. she told him how she got everything mixed up and made a fool of herself in front of the young women. she also didn't hesitate to mention how she drank wine in large gulps until the end of the meeting, and yet she was the first to run out of katy's apartment.

he felt y/n squeeze his hand a little tighter and looked at it again. the nausea he was feeling subsided a bit and he even started laughing at his panicked fantasies — it was y/n; the kind, always natural, and generous y/n who could never think of him that way.

“look, i know who you are may seem boring to you, but to me, you're the coolest person i've ever met in my life. and the nicest. i still remember how you remembered my birthday when others forgot. and when you brought me soup when i was sick. and i had two soups, because my mother had already brought one. you remember all the little things i tell you. that i prefer coffee with caramel syrup over maple syrup. that in 7th grade i fell out of a tree and have a scar on my knee which i'd rather you forget because derek still teases me." their soft laughs echoed through the room again. "you're the best spencer.

"thanks," he whispered.

so that's what it was supposed to be. misunderstandings and inaccuracies are resolved, y/n will finally choose one of the options that were displayed on the screen of a small TV and spend the next hour side by side eating chilled food from a chinese restaurant. it wasn't something spencer would have hoped for if his earlier speech had been worded better, but something he expected when he said what he had to say. but that was fine. he learned to enjoy the little things.

but suddenly he felt y/n fingers under his chin, directing his gaze back to her face. they were so close it hurt.

"and you'll never lose me, spencer. you can't get rid of me that easily," she said, also in a whisper. "i'm like a venereal disease."

spencer frowned.

"it was a disgusting comparison."

"i know, sorry."

"y/n," he whispered, never taking his eyes off the deep hue of her irises that scanned his face.

"yeah?"

he swallowed once more, hoping that the remnants of courage didn't run down his esophagus as well. he wasn't sure and couldn't be, but maybe this was the moment he should have heeded morgan and penelope and emily and jj and rossi and hotch...

"when i said i like you, i meant that..."

"i know, spencer." y/n smiled softly, and spencer had the impression that her face was a little closer than it had been two seconds before. "and guess what... i like you too."

spencer cursed mentally and, sliding his hand into y/n's hair, pulled her even closer to him.

the kiss was a bit tentative at first, and a terrifying thought crossed his mind that perhaps he had been in too much of a hurry and had misread some of the signals — he had done that all too often, after all, and the y/n words might have had nothing to do with what he was saying, with what spencer thought they had. y/n, however, returned the kiss, giving it a new pace for it, tangling her fingers in his hair. then reid realized he had stopped thinking about anything.

all that mattered at that moment was the taste of y/n cherry lip gloss, her hands on his neck, and soon his arms and chest as she climbed onto his lap. spencer thought it was too much — her scent filled his nostrils, completely befuddled him, her hands craving for closeness tracing every curve of his body, making him dizzy — and at the same time he felt that he needed more.

he lifted the hand he'd been resting on the mattress and ran it over y/n's bare thigh, not sure if he was allowed to do it. her skin was smooth, warm and cool at the same time, and spencer wanted to know how other parts of her body felt. y/n smiled through the kiss, reaching for his wandering hand, which she then placed on her hip.

spencer took it a step further and moved her down her back to pull her closer to him. he wanted to be as close to her as possible, possibly even absorb himself into her, if that meant he would always feel the way he did now.

y/n moved her kisses to his cheek, jaw, and behind his ear, where she sucked his skin. spencer moaned softly, surprised, and the girl with a smile headed towards his neck, biting it with kisses.

"thank god penelope left the house," y/n mumbled into his skin, saying the words in between caresses. “she probably would have said her i knew it! or didn't i tell you?!"

spencer pulled back slightly, mouth parting speechless. he remembered perfectly well what penelope had said when he heard that they were going to watch a nature documentary, and now his mind, despite being completely distracted by this unexpected situation, connected the dots — the movie was on but still not quite and the y/n slowly starting to rubbing his hips — coming to an unequivocal conclusion.

"are we going to…?" the unfinished question hung in the air, making y/n's eyes widen.

"what? no! not if you don't want to!” she assured quickly, blushing furiously. “but we can if you want… but we don't have to do anything! kissing is cool too. we don't even have to kiss…"

"no!" he protested, straightening up a bit, for he had been leaning more on the mattress on his elbows than actually sitting on it. "no, i want to. i want… everything,” he whispered, much quieter now, slightly ashamed of his apparent need. after thinking about it, he added, "please?"

y/n's face stretched into his favorite kind of smile, and the woman leaned toward him once more, causing spencer to return to his previous position. out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand reach for the TV remote. without breaking eye contact with him, she hit the play button and pulled him into a kiss as the documentary began.

spencer felt like he was about to pass out.

"jesus, you're so cute i could bite your nose if it didn't end well," she said, making him snort in amusement.

"what?" he asked, but y/n just laughed along with him and reached for the buttons on her shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, while kissing him.

spencer never in his wildest dreams would have thought that he could be right here — under the thighs of the most beautiful girl who, he was sure, would never look at him the way y/n was now sizing him up, exposing more and more naked patches of her skin. he breathed heavily, stroking the skin of her thighs as she slid off the black fabric. he didn't know exactly where he had landed, actually, he didn't know much at the moment. his iq didn't matter anymore, he was just a jerk who stared captivated at y/n's swimsuit-covered breasts, his mouth slightly parted and his gaze absent.

"something's wrong?" a soft y/n voice cut through his not very coherent thoughts and distracted him from the dark green fabric where the nipples poked through.

"no," he replied firmly, propping himself up on his elbows a bit to bring his lips closer to hers. "you're just beautiful."

he kissed her hard, feeling y/n lift the corners of his mouth, and his hand, previously resting on her leg, moved up to the woman's back, where the strings of her swimsuit brushed the nape of her neck.

[firstdivisiongirl]

Please Izana + 6 (picnic) on the summer/spring event??

Hi. Thank you for the request. This one got a little long. Izana is fun to write for and sometimes I can’t stop. Hopefully, you like what I came up with.

Izana Kurokawa x Reader: Rest of His Life

Izana was never the perfect boyfriend.  He had no idea what the perfect date was.  Half the time, he just let you pick.  But, something in his mind right now made him start to doubt himself and his skills as a good boyfriend.  So, he asked Kakucho what to do. His advice was a picnic date since the weather was nicer.  Izana knew this was just what you two needed.

When Izana suggested a picnic date, you were dumbfounded.  He never picked a date.  Heck, he hated romance half the time!  But, you really liked the idea.  It would be nice to get away from the gang life and the members of Tenjiku.

The sky was the perfect shade of blue, not a cloud in sight.  He carried a large wicker basket full of food, utensils, a blanket, and all the other things that were essential to a romantic summer picnic courtesy of Kakucho who wanted this date to go perfectly for his two favorite people.  You were already waiting outside for him, ready to spend time with your love.  He took you to a beautiful spot in the park, under a cherry blossom tree.  The two of you set up.  You laid the blue gingham blanket down on the ground, while he pulled out all of the food and utensils.  It was a great day.  The food was good and the company was even better.

As the two of you ate, he was a little puzzled.  One thing that Kakucho said was that this date would be nostalgic for the two of you.  Izana couldn’t figure out what he meant.  He didn’t remember you two doing anything like this recently, let alone when you two were in the foster home.  His thoughts were disturbed when you grabbed his hands.

“Thanks Izana,” you said, interwinding your fingers, “it reminds me of when we were kids and the three of us used to have picnics outside during the summer.  Those were always my favorite days.”

That was it!  It was something you loved as kids.  “I’m glad you like it.  To be honest, I didn’t think of this idea.  I’m not very good at this stuff, but I wanted to try for once.  I wanted to do good for you.”

“I know Kakucho told me.  But I don’t care about any of that.  All I want is to love you and for you to love me too.  I love you Izana!”

Izana kissed your temples, “I love you too.  And I will love you forever.”  After  finishing and packing up, the two of you headed home.  He might not have remembered the picnics from years ago, but he knew he would remember this picnic for the rest of his life.

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[sgiandubh]

Sunday sounds:  ¡Chao, pescao!

Bad news travel fast, irrespective of time zones. We were having lunch, when I (very uncharacteristically) saw Shipper Mom bursting into tears while checking her phone.

Ya se fue la Mamita. Mommy just left us.

La Mamita was one of our best family friends and the reason I could write here that I did have a Chilean grandma. She was one of the most fascinating women I have ever met, a heroic, larger than life, luminous presence in the darkest of times. Her family has long been a part of ours, by immediate choice and she firmly maintained she had not one, but two daughters - one of which was Shipper Mom.

They met in the most improbable of places, on the swimming pool deck of one of those hotels that catered for foreign visitors lured by Gerovital's promise of everlasting youth, circa 1985. Freshly divorced, my mother was immediately demoted to the most menial of foreign trade jobs - being a tour guide. She was still grieving her son's suspected assassination in a freak military plane crash, following General Leigh's dismissal by Pinochet, in July 1978. The Romanian tour guide was intrigued by the deep, heavy silence surrounding this mysterious señora. A conversation started, which ended only today.

She adopted us. We adopted her family as if it were ours - and, after all these years, it IS. She came and stayed with us every other summer ever since and until about five years ago, bribing her way around the secret police honchos with cigarettes and Colombian coffee packs, poking fun at the brutal interrogations ("¿Y qué creen esos cretinos que soy yo, Mata Hari?"/ And what do those cretins think I am, Mata Hari?) . She knew all our secrets, took care of our broken hearts ("no llames más a este asco de hombre, no vale la pena" /"stop calling this disgusting guy, he's not worth it"), made us better people. She taught me how to use makeup ("hazlo como una señora, mijita"/ do it like a lady, baby) and, while we first started communicating in English, I suddenly found myself answering her in Spanish.

When we finally, suddenly became free, hers was the first international phone call to cross the clogged lines: 'take the first flight to Santiago and if things fizzle, we'll ransom you. You already have a house and a family in Ñuñoa'. And we did. La casita del tren, where her husband, whom everyone called the Colonel, kept their wonderful toy train collection, patiently assembled during his long diplomatic career. And who else could ever regale us with stories of being wined and dined by a very young Jackie and John, in Georgetown, when she was a very young diplobride of a much older, doting husband? And who else could remember waltzing along with Ike ('I didn't like Ike, but I had no choice'), circa 1956?

Today, it was my turn to tell MT, her daughter and what I consider to be my aunt, to take the first flight to Bucharest and come stay with us for as long as she wants. That is what family is all about.

Eso es para ti, mami. Porque, como tú me enseñaste, el amor es más fuerte:

[a-aexotic]

Could you write something around the sentence “I’d choose you over anyone” with Rafe :))) preferably kinda enemies (or friends) to lovers angsty type of thing xx thank you!!

ren's notes hey! of course i can, enemies to lovers w/ rafe is literally my dream ugh. y/n out here living the dream. ALSO im sorry i totally forgot about the prompt :(

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader requested? yes no

warnings. drinking, mention of hickies, enemies to lovers, ooc sarah/rafe, angst to fluff

summary. being best friends with sarah, it was natural to hate rafe. you hate him and he hates you, or that's what everyone else though.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

As long as you could remember, you hated Rafe Cameron. From the very beginning, you hated him - ever since you'd move in next to the Cameron's, you and Rafe had been at each other's throats. It was something that had become a norm for the Cameron's and the L/N's.

You and Rafe are too similar. You guys are both hotheaded, blunt and kind of reckless. You guys are too similar to around each other, it was like forcing two negatives together; it would cause them to want to explode on one another.

As you got older, the more mature you got. And naturally, you wanted this stupid rivalry between you two to end. But if there was anything you knew about Rafe, it was that he was not mature.

So now he loved pressing your buttons, going over the line and getting on your nerves. He loved it, it was his favorite part of the day; seeing you all flustered and bothered when he made a snide remark that you didn't have a response to. It was his goal, to see you all embarrassed and annoyed.

Rafe knew you surprisingly, very well. You'd been best friends with Sarah since you had moved in next door and he'd heard all your secrets when you and Sarah would have sleepovers. He made it a point to learn all your weak points and secrets, not use them against you... Well, maybe sometimes, but just for fun. Again, it was a fun hobby for the bored Cameron sibling.

Everyone who knew Rafe or you knew you two had despised each other. That was just a fact of the island, everyone knew it.

You walked into the Cameron's house on a mission; find the heels that Sarah had stole from you so you could prove to yourself (and Sarah) that you weren't crazy. Those heels didn't just grow legs and walk, did they? You didn't have a little sister and the only person who consistently borrows and never returns your clothes is Sarah.

You knew Sarah would be at John B's today so this was the perfect time. You walked upstairs and barged into Sarah's room, walking to her closet and looking through her shoes.

To most people, that was considered "crossing a boundary," but you and Sarah were basically sisters at that point so looking through her clothes to find an item you were missing wasn't out of the ordinary. You wouldn't do that if she would just put the damned items back.

And plus you needed those heels asap, tonight was Midsummers. It was the event of the summer and you loved dressing up in cute dresses and nice heels; you'd been planning the outfit for months. You made the outfit surrounding the heels: without the heels, your outfit would be nothing. You already bought a matching dress and a Tiffany necklace, now all you needed were the heels.

Sarah swore she didn't have them, but who else would take them?

You were looking through her shirts and you found the Reputation shirt you were looking for two months ago, who she also swore she didn't have. You scoffed, "Bitch."

The more you looked, the more frustrated you were because you could not find the heels anywhere. You heard a knock at the door and sighed, "Come in."

Rafe walked in and his face contorted into a disgusted one. "Ew, you're not Sarah."

"Shut up, Rafe. God, do you have anything better to do? Shouldn't you be golfing with thing 1 and thing 2 right now?" You groaned and he couldn't help but laugh at your nicknames for Top and Kelce.

"Shouldn't you be making out with your gross Pogue boyfriend?" He countered, making you roll your eyes again.

"JJ's not my boyfriend."

He sighed, "Good, I was hoping you wouldn't go as low as dating a Pogue. Anyway, what are you doing in Sarah's room?"

You furrowed your brows at his words before sighing. "I can't find the pair of heels I was going to wear at Midsummers and I think I might just end it all."

"You should, it'd be great for the world." Rafe smirked and you put your head in your arms, groaning in frustration. You didn't need Rafe's snarkiness right now, you just wanted to find those heels.

"Wait." He paused. "Are they uh, pink and glittery?"

You turned your head up, looking at Rafe with a suspicious glint in your eye. "Yeah..."

"Oh, shit." He walked away and then returned a few seconds later with your heels in his hands. You got up and ran to him, grabbing them from his hands.

"Why would take them! What the hell, Rafe? Are you crazy?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Lower your fucking voice, jesus. You're so loud. I didn't take them, okay? They just ended up in my room and I thought one of the girls I had over left them, okay?"

You scoffed in disgust. "You're gross."

"Don't act like you haven't had a boy over, Y/N. I know you have, you make it so obvious with your hickies and shit." Rafe spoke, sighing with an ounce of jealousy in voice. You almost thought you misheard it.

You felt your face heat up at mention of hickies. "They're not hickies they're rashes, okay? My neck is sensitive."

He laughed, "Alright sure. Sensitive neck, my ass."

You rolled your eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day as you walked through the door of Sarah's bedroom, making it a goal to make sure to hit Rafe's shoulder on the way out.

"So immature," you mumbled.

Rafe smiled as he watched you walk away, his goal accomplished. Leave you flustered and annoyed, check. He walked back to his room with a wide grin.

As you walked back your house, heels in hand, you kept picturing Rafe's annoying smirk. It kept replaying in your mind and you feel yourself burning up at the thought of the older brother.

You wanted to slap yourself, were you crazy? Why were you acting like that over Rafe? You hated him more than anyone else in the world, he made your life unnecessarily annoying. So why does your heart skip a beat when you see his annoyingly perfect smile?

This has been happening for the last couple months and you feel yourself becoming more and more vulnerable with every remark he makes: you can never counter them, your mind going blank. You felt stupid and weak, you couldn't just let Rafe win this decade long fight. You weren't going to let him.

--

You and Sarah were at your house, getting ready for Midsummers. This was your favorite event of the year - in all honesty, you loved how classy it made you feel. The dances, the champagne, everyone else looking on the inside, jealous. It was a secret pleasure you happily took part in; I mean, what's the point of being a Kook if you can't flex it?

"See, I told you I didn't take it." Sarah mumbled annoyed as she did her eyeshadow.

You scoffed, "then how'd it end up in Rafe's room?"

She looked back at you with a smirk, "I don't know, you tell me."

The same burning sensation had came onto your face as you shook your head in annoyance, turning back to curling your hair. "God, you're gross for even... even suggesting that."

"Suggesting what, Y/N? You're the one with the dirty mind, I never said anything."

"God, shut up! My parents could hear us, y'know?"

Sarah laughed at your displeasure. "Are you excited to meet up with Nick?"

You smiled. Nick was your longtime crush; you've liked him since seventh grade and you just had the nerve to ask him out now. He was the hottest guy in OBX: he was a football player, he was smart, had pretty eyes you could stare into for hours long and soft curly hair. He was your dream guy and he agreed to be your date to Midsummers.

"Yes, I am. I hope he thinks I'm pretty-"

Sarah scoffed at you. "Of course he will, you are pretty. Don't even say that, who cares what he thinks?"

"I kind of do, I mean I've liked him for so long, I don't know what I'd do if he didn't like me back." You confided in Sarah. She looked back you, sympathetically.

"Well, I mean... He agreed to be your date for Midsummers, that's a good start."

You nodded in response. "Yeah! It is."

You both finished with your hair and makeup, now all you had to do was get dressed. You had bought this pink dress to match with your heels and your hair was curled and in an half up half down hairstyle. You also had bought a new Tiffany necklace to tie the whole look together.

Sarah wore her white dress and cute headpiece. You looked in the mirror and you were genuinely proud of yourself for making this outfit come true.

"Wow, that dress is stunning on you." Sarah was breathless; you look beyond beautiful; you looked flawless. You smiled at her.

"Thank you, Sarah. You too. I love that dress on you, it's perfect."

You and Sarah eventually got the texts from your ride, your crush and date, Nick. He was outside waiting for you guys. You tried not to squeal with excitement as you walked down the stairs, your dress perfectly flowing. You already felt like the night was going to be the most magical and a night to remember.

His Benz was waiting outside for you and Sarah and she smirked at you. "You excited?"

"Yes, I can't wait to dance with him." You whispered to her as she opened the door for you. His friend was already in the front seat so you and Sarah were in the back.

"Ladies first."

You giggled at Sarah's words as you went in, taking a seat. Sarah came in right after you. The smell of strong cologne immediately hit you, with a faint smell of weed. You scrunched your nose as you held your breathe; surprisingly, those two smells weren't the best mixture of smells.

"Wow, I like your dress, Y/N." His friend commented and you waited for Nick's reply. He was on his phone, taking a snap before he realized that he needed to answer. He turned to you with a big smile.

"Uh, yeah. It's gorgeous." He started the car and you lent back in your seat, content with his answer. Sarah glared at him before looking back at you. You ignored her disapproval. He then took his friend's vape pen and took another hit.

The ride there wasn't as magical as you thought it would be. You and Sarah were the only ones talking as the country music on the radio in the background making it somewhat even more awkward. Luke Combs wasn't exactly the artist you wanted to listen to right now.

His friend turned to you and Sarah. "You wanna pregame?"

You and Sarah both shared a look before both shaking your heads. Tonight wasn't about getting drunk or high to either of you. Nick nodded though.

"Yes sir, gimme."

His friend laughed before taking out a few fireball shots, handing one to Nick.

"You sure you wanna be taking that... Uh, now?" Sarah spoke up, refering to him drinking and driving. He waved her off, nodding.

"We'll be fine, it's one shot." He made his friend open the bottle and he quickly took the shot, making him shake his head and let out a loud "Woo." His friend soon did the same.

You couldn't have gotten to the Club any quicker; you wanted to leave the air immediately. Maybe Nick would act a little better once you were in front of their parents.

You and Sarah exited the car and so did the boys. Nick went up to you and took your arm in his, smiling down at you. "Okay, let's go dance."

You smiled. You texted him the first you wanted to do when you got to Midsummers was dance and he remembered. How cute was he?

Sarah was awkwardly standing beside you guys as you walked in. You were so excited you could barely contain it, you squeezed his arm. "I'm so excited!"

Sarah excused herself so she could find and talk Wheezie instead of third wheeling with you.

He hummed in response as he took you the dancefloor, putting his hands on your waist as you put your arms around his neck. The night was as magical as they come; clear starry sky, the sound of faint music coming from inside and the waves crashing onto the beach.

You see Nick's gaze shift to someone behind you and he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. He lets go of you and clears his throat. "Let me uh, go get us some drinks."

You were confused but you nodded along. He walked away and you were by yourself, standing there waiting for Nick to return. You stood there for 15 minutes before deciding that maybe you should go check up on him. You were beginning to worry.

You looked all over the bar and you couldn't find him. You found his friend from before and as he caught your gaze, he had suddenly became tense and nervous.

"Hey, uh. Do you know where Nick went?"

"Nope. Not a clue." His friend replied as you furrowed your eyebrows in suspicion. If anyone knew where Nick was, it was obviously going to be him.

You heard some snuffling in the back and you moved your gaze to behind the boy. There was a door. You quickly walked away to the door and knocked.

"Uh, you shouldn't go in-"

When there was no answer, you opened it to see a girl you had never seen before and Nick. She was on a table and he was in front of her, exchanging spit.

Your heart dropped at the scene, your mouth flew open. "What the hell?!" You shouted.

Nick had turned around and seen you and his eyes widened and he immediately turned away from the girl. "Oh, Y/N-"

"Oh my gosh, you are so gross." You couldn't help but feel your eyes water at the sight, a single tear rolling down your cheek. Your night was definitely ruined now. So much for a magical evening.

You turned away from the scene, ignoring Nick's pleas and you walked away through the crowds. You were so focused on trying not to cry more, you accidentally bumped into someone and they spilled their red wine all over your brand new dress.

You looked up to see Rose and she immediately apologizes but you were already in tears, you broke down. You started crying as she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N, I can buy you a new one!" Rose exclaimed happily but you shook your head.

Rafe was talking to Kelce when he had heard all the commotion happen - he saw Nick with that girl and then he saw you walking away; he quickly followed you.

He didn't know why he did it; it's not like he cared about you, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. Rafe followed you to where you and Rose were and immediately went by your side.

As he saw your puffy eyes and your dress all ruined, something clicked. He was suddenly angry; he'd heard how excited you were about Midsummers and look how it's turning out.

He heard someone walk up to you and he turned his head to see none other than Nick.

"Y/N, are you- are you okay?" He put his hand on your shoulder and you turned around to shake your head. You really didn't want to make a scene but Nick was the last person you wanted to see, so he was making it impossible for you to keep your cool.

"God, no! You just ruined my night."

He looked around at all the people staring and he took your hand but you ripped it out of his grasp. "Don't touch me, Nick."

Despite your efforts, he still decided to put his hand on your shoulder. Rafe had enough; he pushed him away from you and grabbed him by his collar.

"She said don't touch her, man." Rafe shouted at Nick. "So don't fuckin' touch her."

You couldn't take it anymore; there were too many people everyone and suddenly the music was too loud. You walked away from the scene and held in your cry. You couldn't even go home because stupid Nick had drove you here in his stupid Mercedes.

Rafe let go of Nick once he realized you had walked away. He tried to look for Sarah but she was no where to be found. "Where's Sarah when you fucking need her," he mumbled.

Rose was worried sick about you, wondering what had happened. "Rafe, go talk to her and I'll find Sarah, okay?"

He nodded and sighed. He was worried about you, too but he was going to admit that.

You heard footsteps behind you and you turned around expecting Sarah but you were slightly disappointed once you saw it was Rafe. He sat next to you silently as you sniffled.

He sighed and look over at you. "Nick's an asshole."

You nodded silently. Rafe looked over at you and the sight of you crying made him angrier. He hadn't even managed to make you cry in the 10 years he’d know you; he couldn't believe that Nick could've done so easily. He was slightly glad that he'd never made you cry before because the sight alone made him miserable.

"I'm sorry about... your dress. It was really pretty."

You looked over at Rafe, disbelief in your eyes. Did Rafe Cameron just call your dress... pretty?

He laughed at your expression, making you crack a small smile. His laugh always made you feel a little better, even if it was directed at you.

There was silence for a moment, just listening to the waves crashing and the music from inside the Club. Rafe turned to you, "I know we're not friends or anything... but uh, I'm here if you want to talk."

You smiled back at Rafe. It was unusual to see such a sweet Rafe but you've known him long enough to see it sometimes. He's not completely evil. And maybe you didn't completely hate him. You knew he doesn't like seeing you, Sarah or Wheezie cry. Even though he pretended to hate them, he really doesn't.

You turned away from Rafe, taking a deep inhale. "I don't want to bother you-"

"You're not." Rafe quickly refuted.

You suddenly felt a pidge of guilt as you looked over at Rafe; you possibly ruined his night as well. "Rafe, I'm sorry. You shouldn't feel responsible to calm me down."

Rafe sighed and rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong. No one made me come and help you, okay? I did it out of my own free will."

You sighed. "Nick is an asshole."

"We've agreed on that."

"I just wish that I had a perfect night, I had such high expectations and they all just plummeted as the night went on. I know what you're going to say, I shouldn't have had my standards up so high. But I did. And here I am, my dress and makeup ruined and no date." You ranted as Rafe listened and nodded along.

"You don't need a date to be happy. Or a nice dress. Or makeup, I mean, you already look beautiful as is." Rafe said confidentally, making you turn your gaze back to Rafe. You smiled at his words.

"You mean it?"

"Yes, you do look beautiful." Rafe sighed; it was obvious though, everyone thought it. It was just pure fact.

You felt a heat come on to your face and you looked away, bashfully. Rafe Cameron was so confusing - how could one person make you feel so many things?

"I mean, don't get me wrong. You're still the most annoying person on this island, but beautiful nonetheless."

You grinned slightly as you rolled your eyes. That was the Rafe Cameron you knew. "Wow, so nice. Thanks."

You both let out a soft laugh before sitting in calm silence again. The summer breeze making you shiver as you looked at the beach in front of you. Rafe noticed this and without another word, took off his blazer and put it on top of you.

Before you could thank him, you heard a familar shout behind you.

"Y/N!" Sarah ran out to you and Rafe. She was breathless, taking a moment to catch her breathe before continuing. "Fuck Nick. My gosh, I've wanted to say that this whole week. He's so annoying. I'm glad you saw his true colors sooner rather than later, Y/N."

She took a seat between you and Rafe, seperating you. She saw that you were wearing his blazer and she smirked to herself.

"Wow." She said, simply. "Kie owes me 15$"

You and Rafe both looked each other then back at Sarah. "What?"

[cloveroctobers]

HAMMER TO THE HEART — THE FINAL CHAPTER: DANTE TORRES [Summer Writings]

A/N: We made it to the final part of this mini series that had no plans of being a series, which is still mind-blowing for me since I’ve nicknamed myself as “NeverWriteAPart2ESS.” 🤭 This is for the readers who asked if i had any more Dante on my list and here it is but I’m sure it won’t be the last! Thanks for all of your support. Also hope you have either a fun, safe, or chill holiday 💥 I originally had this planned to drop Saturday or Sunday but I’ve been in my writing bag lately so enjoy this (mostly) angst gift ✨

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz as always thanks for tuning in, I love reading your responses ❤️

S/N: Seraphina now has a face readers but ofc you’re always welcome to imagine whomever! + rewatched the last two episodes to refresh my noggin—I’m still new to PD and debating if I want to get into it from the beginning due to past ICKS so if some things are/have been inaccurate that’s why lol.

WARNINGS: language, tweaked the original plot just a little, light? discussion of deceased bodies, bodily injury, triggering flashbacks, & a LENGTHY read!

<- read part two here.

𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐

There’s an unknown number that stands out on Dante’s phone screen. He came to the bar with Atwater and Ruzek, Ruzek briefly disappeared to the bathroom after telling Dante he was ready to kick his ass in some pool and Atwater struck up a conversation with a very flirtatious woman that Dante had to point out to him. It was funny how the taller man tried to get updates on what was going on with him and Seraphina but was being oblivious to the attractive woman that wanted his attention.

Dante’s sipping at his beer when he feels his phone vibrating. Shifting a bit he manages to pull the phone from his pocket, peering at it he swallows the alcholic beverage before swiping across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, man thanks for picking up! Uh, sorry to bother you.”

Dante turns his eyes into slits, picking up on the familiar voice, “…Manny? How’d you get my number?”

“Remember my dad who I mentioned weeks ago?”

How could Dante forget? That day on his thirty-first birthday has been on his mind since and after everything that went down, added more disdain for his “special,” day.

Dante felt his eye twitch, “The old cop?”

“Uh huh…I guess you guys still have some type of pull even if you’re retired.”

Dante rubs at his face, slightly irked. Resting his elbows onto the counter he exhales as he thinks about what he should do about this situation. Somehow he chose to brush that off for now and get back to the point of this call.

Dante presses, “…is there something you need?”

It’s not as loud on Manny’s side of the line besides the barking that he scolds before it’s quiet again compared to Dante’s but the buzzed haired cop is focused on nothing but the intent of this call right now. “it might not be anything but my last call with Phina-Mena ended kinda abruptly. And I’ve been trying to reach out to her since and it seems like the call keeps dropping? I was just wondering if you heard from her?”

Dante feels his jaw tighten at this, it hasn’t been easy for him to process that Seraphina’s been keeping this from him at all. Which of course added to the mountains of tension between the two and it’s actually been two weeks since his birthday. Once Voight realized that Dante had a deeper connection to Seraphina than what this case is and felt a way about him getting her involved, Voight made sure to carry out visits to the lab without him.

Which further pissed Dante off.

“You gave me shit about not only becoming a cop but kept giving me shit about the situation with Gloria…and you think it’s okay getting yourself involved in this kind of danger when you already stepped away from it?” Dante felt like his brows were touching, the aggravation burned through his veins as he tossed Seraphina’s front door shut behind him.

The short haired woman continues her walk to the back of her home, to the kitchen, “Nothing about this case is okay and I have valid reasons just like you do with your career and Gloria. I may not fully ever get that second half but it happened and it is what it is.”

Which was ironic to hear since Seraphina was the one who said that she was done taking things for what they were with Dante. Was this all to get back underneath his skin because honestly it felt like she was kinda trying him?

“Yeah somehow I don’t think you’re gonna be saying that if you get yourself killed.” Dante’s usual gentle tone feels like frostbite, making Seraphina freeze in her tracks right in the center of her kitchen.

Relaxing her shoulders she turns to face Dante. His doe eyes are wide and he looks as if he wants to start pacing the floor but Seraphina isn’t in the mood to soothe him, not when his attitude’s been ugly since she made herself comfortable down at the district.

“You’re worried, that’s fine.” Seraphina shrugs, “I can understand that but you’re acting as if Voight handed me a gun—

Dante scoffs, “He might as well have!”

Seraphina argues as if it was so simple, “Tay, I’m working on the chemical end, not the physical. That’s your guy’s area. What you all signed up for.”

It wasn’t only PD’s job. She allowed herself to get thrown back into the true forensics of things. The amount of bodies that ranged from young kids to teens months ago to current time—still children was insane. At first the cases Seraphina’s dealt with, didn’t seem connected to her until she found something in common with each of the youngest children, that high traces of Librium contributed to their death along with specific wounds that ultimately caused them to bleed out.

The darkness was falling and Seraphina did not seem like she was ready to dodge it.

“What we’re dealing with is a serial killer.” Dante states while the woman nods her head being full aware from what she’s seen and before what made headlines, “They’re smart and have been steps ahead of us lately. If they find out that someone else is onto them…then there’s no telling what they have up their sleeve next.”

Seraphina inhaled and exhaled, “Which is why we’re doing everything to catch them and why Voight brought me on. He knows I can help so why can’t you?”

Dante shakes his head, “I never said that. You’re outstanding at anything you do…I just can’t go through having you in harm’s way again.”

She gets close to him now, hand going to grab the side of his neck and he thinks she’s going to embrace him but she just brings her chin above his shoulder, making sure her lips are near his ear, “Well, that’s not up for you to decide.”

And she goes to exit the kitchen, forgetting her appetite but Dante’s not finished as he also whips around, stalking after her, ready to follow her all around the house to get his feelings out about the path Seraphina was throwing herself back into.

The battle was just beginning.

Dante ignores Manny’s question and decides to ask his own, “when was this?”

“Last night.” Manny answers, “l called to see what she thought about the lastest MasterChef episode and we were just about to get off the phone after she took the trash out but there was some…shuffling? I guess and then the call dropped.”

At that moment, Dante felt as if all the air was just punched out of lungs. His head drops and he’s rubbing at his face now, eyes clenched while trying to find some air to bring back into his body. “time.”

“Pardon?”

“What,” Dante tries to keep his tone leveled but his gut was telling him that something was wrong and his stomach’s been funny since he last left his person’s house two weeks ago, “What time did this happen last night?”

Manny blew out a breath, “It was late…some time after 10pm my time and 9 for you guys.”

“You said you heard scuffling—

“Shuffling,” Manny corrected, “but now that you mention it, maybe it was more of a scuffle.”

“Did you try to call back?”

“Course. What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t check on a lady to make sure she made it safely into her home?” Manny says if it Dante offended him but it’s not like he cared, “There was a text sent ten minutes later saying that she dropped her phone, cracked her screen and would probably have to take it to a repair shop or get a new one but I haven’t heard from her all day today and we usually send morning affirmation texts or checking in texts during the day…it’s after 9pm now and there’s still nada. White noise.”

Dante can see that Ruzek’s made his way back out of his peripheral view, “Alright, I’ll get back to you.”

“Great, keep me posted. You now have my number—

Dante ends the call.

When his eyes meet Ruzek’s, his smirk vanishes as Ruzek gets rid of the teasing that’s sitting on his tongue, watching Atwater trying to spit game once he takes in Dante’s facial expression.

“Dante, what’s up?”

Dante’s rapid blinking makes Ruzek further concerned as he lets the words slip from his lips, explaining, “We have to do a wellness check on Nina.”

And Adam doesn’t need to hear anymore, with Dante making his exit before getting on the phone again, leaving Ruzek to toss some money on the counter in thanks to the bartender and calls out to interrupt whatever Kevin and his potential love interest of the night had going on.

When the trio make it to Seraphina’s brick home, Dante only pauses for a short time, his eyes scanning all over the exterior that was basically his first safe space once she brought it and second home. Kevin and Adam both share a look on either side of Dante, tempted to ease his worries but they were loud enough as they stood beside him.

It was a silent conversation between Kevin and Adam, both eyes widening to push the other to say something first but soon they realized Dante whisking by them as he jogged up the steep steps. He stops at the front door and gives a quiet signal for one of the men to check around the back while Atwater chose to follow after Dante.

The door was closed shut but not locked and that was something she did not do. With a twist of the door followed by his foot, he pushes the door open and calls out, “Nina…are you home?”

The home doesn’t feel warmed by her spirit so his mind already told him what he needed to know. Atwater does the honors of going up the first set of stairs to the right while Dante is checking closets, scanning the living room and there’s a closed laptop sitting on the coffee table, before heading down the hall. He passes the second set of stairs, checks the half bathroom, and continues to the kitchen. The house looks as it should and there’s a carton of raspberry chocolate chip Talenti ice cream soaking in the sink, perhaps it’s something she forgot to toss into the trash being too wrapped up in a conversation with Manny…but it reminds Dante of a dark time back in July when they were kids.

That July where their scars got fresh ones.

There’s a snapping that irks Seraphina’s ears, a light so bright that shines against the skin of her closed eyelids. She can feel her neck beginning to ache right at the spinal cord, the weight being too much to bare as she struggles to get the pressure off. It takes time but the light that keeps flickering is supposed to be encouraging and it does get her to focus.

Leaning back against the hard chair, her eyes peel open but the one on the left feels tight and more than sore. Swollen. She tries to blink it away but that feeling is prominent and it makes the space above her brow experience a sensation that radiates to the center of her forehead, leaving her skull to throb. She had been hit with something when she turned away from her trash out back and now she was sitting face to face with the man the entire city was searching for.

“You don’t realize how fascinating you are.” He starts, “At first I thought my one more would only be Hank but then…I started watching you too.”

That unsettling feeling that sunk in was not pleasant. The woman winces as she feels the ties chaffing into her wrists and her ankles, “…this isn’t going to end well for you.”

“I could say the exact same to you.” The bearded man says, emotionless, “But I’ll do you a favor and let you get one last call.”

Seraphina huffs, knowing what that means but slowly let’s the determination kick in trying to buy herself some more time, “Did you really catch me off guard and hit me in the face?”

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” He answers honestly, “Like I said, you originally weren’t my target but I figured a two for one special wouldn’t hurt, much.”

Seraphina licks her dry lips, “tell me…are you married? Children? You should know, hitting women is a punk move but you got bigger problems than that. Kids? I hear the slammer doesn’t play with those that are kid killers.”

He scoffs out some laughter, “I won’t be there. I’ll be reborn, new by then and as for you…that’s to be determined. Are you a Phoenix or a scared duck hiding from the rainstorm like you’ve been doing over Dante?”

Seraphina clears her throat, “does that make you feel better? Speaking on things you think you know?”

He stands in front of the dark haired woman, hands clasped behind his back as he trailed his eyes all over her features, that alone made her skin crawl. It was as if he imagining all the ways to disfigure her face. There was a strong detachment in his eyes that would leave anyone shook.

“I think I know enough. I’ve watched all of you but the most intriguing happened to be: Hank, Hailey, Dante, and you.” He informs, “I needed Hank and I wanted you.”

“For what?” Seraphina quizzes.

He doesn’t miss a beat, “for new beginnings. We can’t take the easy way out but at least the comfort of a loved one in your final moments will make it seem that way. Which is why, you’re going to give me what I want and call.”

Seraphina shakes her head but stops as the pain follows her movements, “sounds like it’s more to give you a piece of mind. You think you provided all these people with peace as you tortured them for nothing?”

He has a cool blade underneath her chin so that their eyes are locked, “is anything really for nothing? Nothing is ever truly senseless. Look at yourself for an example. You’ve been here all your life, wishing on a star for Dante to love you back but maybe it’s a fever dream. Everything that you’ve been through, where you could have been, if only he took the romantic love you have for him serious—is all in your head.”

He’s squatting now, dry hands on Seraphina’s bare thighs. Her breathing hitches as the deranged man pulls the waistband of her Terry cloth shorts forward, “there it is.”

He’s in amazement and she wants nothing more than to spit in his face at him showing her vulnerability in this dark room.

Seraphina doesn’t look at him as he runs the point of the blade along her lengthy scar, “Stop touching me!”

She grits out but the killer can see that she was swallowing the rising tears down.

“Dante does love you beneath his own problems but he won’t allow it because he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. You know that. He chose someone else because that’s a life he’s known. You could have been a new life. Always have been which is why he keeps you close. He’s scared to have a life with you past friendship because of all of the things that happened when you were kids but most importantly he took a piece of life from you.”

The exposed air is cold against Seraphina’s old scar and she can feel her eyes burn; she just wanted this man to shut up and rot.

[July, 2009]

The horn from the opposite car is deafening.

A sixteen year old Dante is stunned on what he’s seeing. The classic mustang rammed into the back of Dante’s new low-rider, which was given to him by the exact man who decided to ram his car into the back of his. Dante’s leaning on his elbows on the hot gravel, trying to find his voice since his car was just totaled but that didn’t matter. What mattered was Seraphina happened to be in the passenger side eating her signature raspberry chocolate chip ice cream while he was outside of it, vibing to, “Forever,” by BBL Drizzy, Lil Wayne, Kanye West, and Eminem.

Although this was his first car through being involved with the gang, he took pride in it because he knew what he had to do to get it. He had to hide it up the street from his mother but she was no dummy, she sensed the change her in son the moment he returned the favor to his step-father, nearly beating the man to death. He looked up to, “Sad Eyes,” as almost an older brother with methods that gave him the potential to be a powerful man. However he wasn’t sure what this method was? And he scrambled to his feet as he heard the creaking of Sad Eyes’ car, he fell onto his shoulder out of the car, his eyes settling on Dante as he lay on his side.

“Why?! What was this for?!” Dante called out to him.

Sad Eyes just blinked as he spluttered around the blood that escaped his mouth, “Good Luck.” Were his final words.

Dante didn’t have time to process that right now as he circled around the car. His hands go right through the rolled down window to press a shaky hand into Seraphina’s pulse point. It’s moving but it’s too slow. She’s not conscious but the horrors were already settling in as Dante’s green hues followed the path of the crushed car and the iron fence that pierced through her abdomen.

There was blood everywhere. Dripping from the iron fence while pooling into the lap of her white jeans. His heart was hammering against his chest at the sight, she looked dead and that alone felt unbearable. He snapped out of it, hands moving to the handle of the door trying to pull it open but it was obviously jammed shut.

The sirens were squealing through the summer air in the distance and Dante just knew there had to be some sort of motive. There always was with this gang. Carefully he leaned into the window, pressing a kiss to her temple, breathing her in as he whispers, “I’m sorry, Nina.”

That wouldn’t be the last of his apologies. He went into hiding around the empty parking lot, just to make sure that the firefighters got her out and the paramedics got her into the ambulance. Dante was aware that the police would start searching the area but he couldn’t just fully leave his best friend behind. Not when their relationship shifted weeks prior.

Sure he’s thought about it, asking Seraphina to be his girl but he let the members of the gang get into his head. He only told the other youngest member of the gang, who went and ran his mouth to the main two in command: Sad Eyes and Joker about it. Rico aways had diarrhea of the mouth and sometimes Dante felt bad at how hard everyone was on him, until Rico told his business with Seraphina.

A meaningful intimate night that they all clowned him for. That she wasn’t anything different or even special because she didn’t choose to get passed around by them. Seraphina didn’t even want to be around the gang after they disrespected her, especially with most of the members being much older than the both of them. She would never be just some, “bitch,” and they told Dante that he would find plenty more along the way in this life. That did not sit right with Dante so he cut his time short with them that day (plus some days after that but they always came to him when he didn’t want to bothered) and gave Rico a nice busted lip on his way home. He felt bad about it later since the fourteen year old struggled to find his place in the gang and just wanted to be part of something but in that moment? A sixteen year old Dante stood on business, which the gang got another laugh at.

When Dante and his mother, Catalina made it to the hospital Seraphina’s father was just finishing talking to the doctor. It had been hours since Dante watched them take Seraphina away. He waited for his mother to get home from work, keeping his gun nearby just in case any other members dared came to his door, telling her what happened and she didn’t bother putting her things down. She waved him along, mind racing with a million and one thoughts as they left their home to catch the bus to the hospital.

Catalina prayed the entire way, rosary held in both her and Dante’s hands but the younger boy kept his eyes on the city lights that blurred by.

He couldn’t lose Seraphina.

“You piece of shit!” The boulder of a man hissed while yanking Dante up by the collar, “I told her to stay about from you countless of times but she continues to be hardheaded—must of been something you taught her. You bring nothing but poison, you started this. I know you convinced her to hide those pills that got my wife caught out. I know my daughter.”

Dante was breathing hard but out of anger, “you think you do, sir. You think you have the answers to everything but you don’t. You’re the definition of neglect. You neglected your wife when anybody can take one look at her and see that she was about to lose her shit. And Seraphina? The only time you paid attention to her is when you’re looking to point the finger for your miserable life. Tell me, do you really think I’m the only piece of shit here when you tried to drown your so called daughter the night they took Mrs. Coty away?”

“Dante!” His mother’s voice cuts through, knowing her son crossed a line but she never appreciated the way Mr. Coty spoke of her son, and she also wasn’t aware of what he did to Seraphina.

Her hand was resting right on Mr. Coty’s bicep tightly and she noticed the nurses looking, hands probably waiting on the phone to call security to throw them out. Seraphina didn’t need to be alone like this, this much Catalina knew and just needed these two to put their egos aside for the sake of Seraphina.

Mr. Coty huffed as he shoved Dante against the wall one last time, his head hitting the wall as he tells him, “You think you’re so much better? You’ve done nothing but break her and that’s all you’ll ever be, a scared little boy that brings nothing but damage. You think you saved your mother by beating that coward of a man down? You only ended up hurting her just as much and as for my daughter? Two broken ribs, neck sprain, and that fence went right through her pelvis. Do you know what that means? There’s a high chance that she’ll never be able to create life in the future and sure she won’t have to worry about that now but you’ll always be the reminder of what you took from her. That’s all you are, a good for nothing taker. So you remember that when you want to shit on my parenting skills.”

And Mr. Coty fixes Dante’s shirt, condescendingly patting his cheek as he stalked off in the opposite direction of where Seraphina lay. A sixteen year old Dante thought about many things in that moment, one of those being the act of swinging on the older man, there was a familiar look in his eyes that his mother saw so she sat beside him on the floor and brought him into her chest while he clenched his fists, holding back tears. 

There was a time back when Dante was in the academy, where he and Seraphina slipped up back in their early twenties. The age of sixteen was the first time but as they grew, it happened again. She slipped into a bookstore while Dante was eyeing a new boba shop that was across the street. He had a tough day the day before and agreed to hang out that Saturday to get his mind off it. Dante knew that he had what it takes but the instructor was a Grade-A asshole and that only pushed him even harder. He easily pinned out what type of cop he would be dealing with and heard the gossip, so he showed his ass just exactly what he was capable of.

It did get tiring and he was exhausted but wanted to be around Seraphina to ease his mind. Seraphina stood across the street, a bright smile on her lips as she had a tote bag full of new purchases that her bank account would give her shit for later when she went over her finances like she commonly did every reset Sunday. She didn’t like what she saw, another woman, with bright copper hair, clearly flirting and being too close to Dante for her liking.

Did she not see that he had two drinks in his hand? It wasn’t Dante’s fault, he was a single good looking man and could do whatever he wanted. Seraphina just messed up her previous date that Seán set her up with because she was too hung up on Dante. It was ridiculous considering that they weren’t children anymore but constantly bringing him up to other contenders was a red flag. She saw that, had to understand how that was off putting because she wouldn’t put up with it herself honestly.

So she took the risk, not wanting anyone else to have Dante as they got into an argument over her shift in moods after their outing uptown. She walked right up to him, grasping his face and planted one right on him. He wasn’t expecting that as he pulled back, silently questioning what that was with curiosity in his light eyes but that curiosity is exactly what led to him connecting their lips again, picking her up and leading her through her apartment at the time to her bedroom.

She’d like to call it a true false positive, taking two tests after the third time. Her OBGYN confirmed it with a blood test and she was happy but scared. Seraphina and Dante were friends, the best anyone could have but they discussed that it couldn’t be more until she ended up wanting it to be more. No one else matched up to him. They were careful—not enough—and she imagined what children would look in their friendship and automatically knew Dante would be a great dad. Just when she worked up the nerve to tell him, waiting days after the news…she suffered a miscarriage alone because of that terrifying injury when she was fifteen going on sixteen.

Asherman's syndrome is what they call it.

“Somewhere around all of it, you still love him and he cares for you immensely. It’s twisted because anyone would have called it quits but there’s something…enchanting about you two.” The killer is back to standing up straight, “I want to hear how much up close so…call.”

Seraphina slowly blinks while she stares at the device the killer is holding out to her, “No.”

The bearded man deeply inhales, putting the burner phone back into his pocket, “tell me something…when you went through your miscarriage…when that abdominal pain almost ripped you apart from the inside out, did you dig your nails into the palms of your hands hoping that would help?”

She exhales, closing her eyes and knows what’s about to happen next. She doesn’t grant the monster with a response as she feels the blade pressing underneath her nail. Her screams did not go unheard in the room close by which contained a non-coherent Hank Voight and once satisfied, the killer whispers as he enjoys the drips of blood that hits the floor, “Take all the time you need but I’ll be back. It’s time to see Hank.”

The state of Dante Torres’ heart felt as if someone took a meat tenderizer right to it. He was right on Hailey’s tail despite Petrovic telling her to stand down. This case quickly became personal for the both of them and it didn’t take long to realize that Voight got snatched as well. The team all knew it was a matter of time and that was not something they wanted to continue to give to Matson.

He wished Upton stood on her stance of shooting Matson in the kneecaps and had his own finger on the trigger to fire. The next moments he blacked out on after seeing Hailey climb in the trunk of Matson’s stolen car.

Eventually he’s heading down the steps, eyes immediately picking up on Matson’s mutaliated body, eyes gaugeed out, brain matter surrounding him, and a knife sticking right out of his abdomen that Seraphina was still holding onto. Dante lowered his gun after putting in the call for the paramedics to make their way down.

“Nina,” Dante gently speaks as he gets down on his knees beside a sitting Seraphina.

He carefully reaches out to touch her bleeding hands but she pulls them back from holding the blade, curling her hands into herself numb to her missing fingernails. “Hey, hey, it’s me, Tay. I’m here, Nina.”

It’s like she’s not here, eyes glossed over but she hears him. “Dante?”

He nods and there’s a sob that rattles from her chest as a bloody hand tries to silence it. Dante springs into action, bringing her right into his arms. His face tightens as he glances at Matson’s body and back to Ruzek who’s tending to Hailey and Voight, he dips his head for him to get Seraphina out of here.

“I’ve got you,” he says to her after repeating a nod to Ruzek, “let me get you out of here, alright?”

Scooping her into his arms, he spins around taking her away from the violence that was inflicted. Hating that he didn’t try harder enough to keep her out of this. Kim nods her head at them on their way by, empathy was heavy in her large eyes as she watched her team member take the love of his life as far as he could.

“I wouldn’t call.” She whispers to Dante in the ambulance, one hand holding his while the paramedic is bandaging her right hand.

Dante hums as he brings her in tact hand to his lips, “I know Mi Corazón…you’re the toughest person I know, next to mi ma.”

Seraphina snorts before her eyes widen, “…you didn’t tell her anything did you?”

“She’s knows we’re going through our bullshit again,” he mocks his mother, knowing that Seraphina’s reaction was valid because as soon as Momma Catalina found out that her babies were up to some bullshit, she was ready to bring out the chancla after embracing them and making sure they were okay first, “but not the specifics.”

“Good.”

Dante scoffs, “good? Not good. I know what happened and you should be more concerned with that than anything else.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Seraphina closes her eyes but Dante nudges her with their clasped hands, “…can we do this later? I’m tired.”

Dante peeks at the paramedic who shakes their head, which lets Dante know that there could be signs of a concussion. “How about this? Let’s talk about the rest of our summer plans?”

“Are you sure you even want to spend the summer with me?” Seraphina wiggles around trying to get comfortable on the stretcher, “I know you’re going to beat yourself up over this and it’s not necessary. I’m a big girl and made myself part of this, not you.”

He exhales through his nostrils, laughing internally that she knew him so well. How could he not beat himself up over this? It was his job to look after her, something they both vowed once they became friends at thirteen. Once he got into the gang in juvi, he made sure he had people on the outside looking out; not only for Seraphina but also his mother until he got out.

“Yeah it is necessary,” he starts but Seraphina doesn’t want to hear it.

“I’m tired of Chicago, Tay.” She shifts the conversation, although the green-eyed man knows he can bring it right back there if he wanted to but he decides to listen on their ride to the hospital, “My parents went to Kansas City as soon as I moved out full time to get rid of all the bad memories so why can’t I do the same…even if it’s for a little bit? My cousin Behati’s been begging me to visit the New England area with her husband and two year old daughter.”

Dante is quiet at this but he shows he’s listening as he lightly squeezes her hand.

“B and Makari always extended the invitation to you too, you know?” She’s hinting as Dante leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

He’s met Seraphina’s cousin Behati and cousin-in-law Makari many of times over video calls and the pair seems so full of joy. So positive and compassionate with the intentions of showing that they were good people. Seraphina’s always talked about Behati and hated that she always lived far and cant remember the last time she’s seen her in person.

“You should go.” Is all Dante says, sending a small smile to Seraphina who goes silent at that.

Dante lets out a long exhale after cutting the engine. He knows they’re pressed for time as he’s in the line up, and glances over at Seraphina who peers out the window in excitement. Dante dips his head as they both move to exit the car, she’s fixing the carry-on that’s on her shoulder while Dante pulls out the hard-cover suitcase from the trunk. Reaching out for the handle, they both meet each other’s eyes.

Seraphina offers Dante a smile and he takes it, a soft grin splitting over his lips that she gets a view of the tiny gap in between his front two teeth before he’s pulling her into his arms. He always loved holding her. The feathered haired woman rubs at his back in his embrace as he holds onto her like he’s going to lose her forever.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you and I’m gonna miss you, Nina.” He says as their heads rest side by side.

She laughs, “I know.”

Dante snorts as he pulls back to look at the amusement in her eyes. It’s been a tough time after the events with the serial killer but Seraphina always knew how to keep going and this trip was part of that. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to relocate but she kept talking it over with her therapist—something new she was trying—and with Dante. What kind of friend would he be if he told her to stay after everything?

“How sweet of you.” Dante is sarcastic as he gently rubs the sides of her arms while Seraphina winks.

“I’ll be back after Labor Day.”

Dante nods.

Seraphina uses her pointer fingers to lift the corner of Dante’s mouth who rolls his eyes in return, a smile breaking through on its own, “And if you change your mind or want a little break from this…from Chicago, you know where to find me.”

He places a lingering kiss on both cheeks before hugging her again, lifting her off her feet, “yeah, I do. I love you, have a great flight. Now get out of here.”

She kisses one of his cheek’s back, “I love you more and I’ll text you when I land!”

“You better.” He puts her down on her feet, letting her take her things and watching as she makes her way into the airport.

Once she sends another wave and he can’t see her anymore, Dante circles back around his car to get into the drivers seat. The hammering starts in his chest as he starts the engine, pulling away from the curb and he’s struggling to swallow the lump in his throat.

See Dante wouldn’t blame Seraphina if she decided that she didn’t want to come back. They always talked about seeing what the world had to offer but Chicago was all that they knew. He was glad that she was getting out, although she claimed it was only for a little while, the back of his mind was saying something different.

His eyes flicked to the new ornament that he hung from his mirror. It was a old Polaroid photo, on Seraphina’s fifteenth birthday during a late December, she held up a deck of cards which shielded the lower half of her face, arm tossed over Dante’s shoulder as he appeared unimpressed wearing a red headdress that was Vegas themed and forced on his head for the photo.

Written on the white space in Seraphina’s chicken scratch of handwriting she always had it says: I’ll always celebrate my bday and ur bday enough for the both of us! —Forever your road dog, Nina :)

Dante sucks in some air after glancing at it, blocking his mouth with a shaky hand in attempt to quit the cry that wants to burst out as he puts on a smile.

He really was happy that Seraphina got out, for real this time.

This didn’t have to be goodbye but it was certainly feeling like it and Dante would be lying if he said it wasn’t breaking him.

Guess he’s a sucker for pain and evolving it into something better, which he’s competent of.

When Dante truly sinks into this new found emptiness, a separate shade of darkness, he comes to terms with: not having the reassurance of Seraphina by his side or a simple drive across town where she resides, he’s not entirely sure how this will all play out and that petrified him.

“Torres,” he answers his phone, after realizing that it’s been ringing for a while.

The familiar gruff voice replies, “I need you down at the district.”

Crime was never ending as Dante put his foot to the pedal, flying down the highway to dive into the life he’s built for himself.

And continues to buries the rest.

For now.

𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐

FIN.

JK -> Here’s a bonus chapter!

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

[javier-pena]

in plain sight, chapter i

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader | Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re back home in Austin for the summer and you start dating Tommy Miller, a boy you know from high school, a boy you had a crush on when you were a teenager. All you’re looking for is an uncomplicated summer fling, just some fun, until you have to go back to college in the fall. What you didn’t know is that Tommy has an older brother. And that older brother can’t keep his eyes off you right from the start …

Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol | smoking | reader has hair that can be grabbed | car sex | semi-public sex | a little bit of dirty talk | reader is a tiny bit bratty (in a blink and you’ll miss it kind of way) | two (2) pussy slaps | a tiny, tiny bit of degradation | oral (m and f receiving) | p in v sex | voyeurism | exhibitionism

Notes: The story of how I came up with the idea for this fic is actually very silly, so I'll spare you the details, but I will say it had something to do with a certain movie from 1978. Anyway, I'm so so excited to finally be able to share the first chapter of this!! I can't remember the last time I was this excited about a story, so that's a good sign I'll manage some semi-regular updates. I want to thank Angela @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for answering some of my questions about Austin, and, of course, Dani @alexturner who said it'll be good for me to write a story like that 🤭

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

***

“Back for the summer, eh?” was the first thing Tommy said to you after the both of you hadn’t spoken in seven years.

You were standing in line at the ice cream truck, holding your niece’s hand who was jumping up and down, giddy with excitement. Tommy was driving past in his red pick-up truck, a car you’d seen around the neighborhood, unaware it was his. Hell, there wasn’t a lot of awareness where it came to Tommy Miller in the first place. You almost didn’t recognize him that early June day leaning out of the window of his truck, elbow propped up against the door, a bright smile on his face. The boy you remembered from high school, the boy you had a crush on all those years ago, looked so different. Scrawny, lanky, greasy hair, a face full of spots. Sometimes you scrolled through old photos, laughed at yourself because you had lain awake for nights, imagining how he would confess his love for you, ask you to run away with him. The man in the truck that sunny afternoon was just that … a man. His tight, stained shirt was clinging to his arms and chest, grown big with muscles over the years. His hair that used to fall into his eyes, obscuring half his face, had been cut short. His tight curls were hidden underneath a baseball cap that had the logo of a local brewery on it. His face was tan, a dark golden color; it made you do a double take, made your palm grow sweaty against your niece’s hand, embarrassed by his attention. Because surely, he had mistaken you for someone.

“Tommy?” you asked, stumbling forward a few steps when your niece yanked on your arm. “Tommy Miller?”

He laughed so hard his chest heaved. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then he ran a hand across his sweaty brow, his dirty cheeks. “Don’t tell me I’ve aged that badly.”

Of course he asked you for your number that afternoon, and of course you gave it to him while your niece was busy with her ice cream. You scribbled it onto the palm of his hand, thinking it was a quirky, romantic gesture. It had nothing to do with the fact that you wanted to touch him. The heat of a Texan June afternoon smudged the pen so badly before he got home that evening he couldn’t decipher your number. Luckily, he knew where you lived and came by the next day with a bouquet of flowers to ask you out on a date – officially.

That date went well – more than well. He took you to the movies, to a steakhouse, to a new bar in town. He was so different from the boys you met at college; he had been to war, he had his own company that he was running with his brother, he wanted to know about you and didn’t use your time together to talk about himself and his grand plans for his professional future. You hadn’t laughed that much in a long time, hadn’t enjoyed a guy’s company that much in … well, if you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t remember ever having had that much fun with anyone. You didn’t want the night to end, and when Tommy dropped you off back home afterwards, he kissed you in his truck, then said, “Tomorrow’s my day off. Let me take you somewhere.”

You had skipped up the stairs to your parents’ porch while his truck had idled at the side of the road until you were safely inside.

What followed the next day left you hungry for more. Tommy took you hiking, then he took you to a small ranch outside Austin because you had mentioned you’d never been on a horse before, but would like to try. You stayed there until the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and a bonfire was blazing next to the barn. You drank beers and watched the stars come out. Then someone pulled out a guitar and Tommy asked you to dance. That night, you got home well past midnight, feeling like you’d been somewhere very far away.

You didn’t see Tommy for a week after that. He was busy at work. You were busy telling your friends from college about him. “Just a bit of fun for the summer,” you said. They either cheered you on, asking for the saucy details, or reacted with, “That’s so typical. Anywhere you go, men fall for you.” You didn’t let that bother you because it wasn’t true. Besides, if anyone was turning heads it was Tommy.

The next Friday, he picked you up later than usual and a broad grin spread across your face when you saw him. He had decided to grow a mustache after you’d admitted to him that you used to have a crush on this handsome teacher in college who happened to have a mustache. Tommy handled your laughter well, said, “Get in the truck, college girl,” and sped off toward an unknown destination. You felt excitement wash over you whenever you glanced over at him. Because you hadn’t been idle that week either. You were wearing a matching set of underwear, a deep red color, delicate, hiding only what was necessary. Because Tommy had admitted to you that he had a thing for women wearing nothing but high heels and lingerie. You hoped just one of those would do the trick too.

That night he took you to a small concert, just a guy with his guitar and a cream-colored cowboy hat up on a brightly lit stage. He sang about the open plains, proposing to his wife, about how women don’t want a man in a suit, they all want a cowboy. And he had a point, you thought, after Tommy dragged you off into a dark corner during a brief break and kissed you until you could hardly breathe. None of the boys at college had ever kissed you like that. For the rest of the night, Tommy was hovering by your side, finding excuses to touch you. And when the concert was over, he led you back to his truck, opened the door for you and said, “Listen, my brother is out of town this weekend. Would you like to come back to my place?”

You didn’t even make it to the bedroom. You made it to the couch in the living room where you sat pretending to be interested in polite conversation while your heart hammered against your ribcage and Tommy kept shifting, trying to hide a growing bulge in his pants. Your friends had warned you, “Don’t sleep with him before the 4th of July. The summer is still so long and he’ll lose interest.” Yeah, there was no way you’d be waiting for almost another month for this.

Tommy made the first move but only because you waited for him to make it. His hand was high up on your thigh when he leaned over you to kiss your neck, and you quickly pushed him back against the couch, straddling him, taking off your shirt. His appreciative gaze told you you had gotten it right. That he later took your panties off with his teeth was just the cherry on top.

He made you come four times that night, twice on the couch (first with his tongue, then with his cock buried deep inside of you), one time in his bed (you rode him until he pushed you off and took you from behind), and one time very softly (with his finger, just before you fell asleep). It was obvious the next morning – he wouldn’t lose interest in you and you would have the best summer of your life.

*******

A week later, you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you hear the doorbell ring. This is only your third weekend going out with Tommy, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t recognized the sound of his pick-up pulling up in front of your house. The memories from last weekend are still fresh on your mind and it makes you giddy with excitement to wonder about what he might have planned for tonight.

When you come downstairs, Tommy is sitting on the living room floor, cross-legged, while your niece is introducing him to all her toy horses. Your sister is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, shooting you a knowing look. You ignore her. Because no matter how much fun you’re having, you’re lightyears away from thinking about Tommy as anything more than a summer fling.

“Ready?” you ask, and when he looks up at you there’s that hunger in his gaze. Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of your very short dress.

“You’re really going out in that?” your sister asks you, and you can hear the thinly veiled jealousy in her voice.

Tommy gets up, slings his arm around your waist, and places a soft kiss on your cheek. “I know I’m supposed to call you beautiful,” he mumbles into your hair, “but you look so fuckin’ hot, darlin’.”

Your face heats up at hearing that pet name. To hide how flustered you are, you tousle your niece’s hair and say, “Don’t wait up for me,” to your sister without looking at her.

The smell of Tommy’s truck engulfs you when you climb inside, and you relax against the seat. It’s funny, really, how a scent you were unfamiliar with just two weeks ago can make you feel so much at ease now. In the driver’s seat, Tommy rolls down the window and lights a cigarette before he looks back toward your house.

“Your sister, is she divorced?” he asks, fidgeting with the lighter.

“Why? You interested?” you tease.

He pulls a face. “She needs to loosen up. Maybe a good fuck would help with that.”

You playfully slap his arm. “You’re impossible,” you laugh. “My brother-in-law takes good care of her.”

He shoots you a doubtful glance, then starts the truck.

The suburbs of Austin are quiet this evening. People are staying inside to escape the lingering heat of the day or they are already in town. You hardly see anyone, hardly pass any other cars as Tommy drives slowly, an old country song playing on the radio.

“You were on my mind all week,” he finally admits, pretending to keep his eyes on the road, but you notice how he glances at you.

You touch your neck, surprised by how hot your skin feels. “Nothing bad I hope.”

He chuckles. “Depends on your definition of bad.”

You briefly close your eyes and let your memory take you back to last Friday, to the image of him kneeling before you while he spread you open on the couch, tongue buried deep inside of you.

“Well.” You clear your throat. “I’m not usually like …” You trail off, suddenly worried you gave him the wrong impression, your head buzzing with your friends’ advice on how to keep him interested in you.

“You don’t usually sleep with a guy after the third date?” Tommy inquires.

“I don’t usually come more than twice in one night.” You whisper the offensive word.

“That’s hardly your fault,” Tommy replies with a shrug. “Those college boys are dull.”

“Who says I’m sleeping with college boys?” you ask.

He glances at you, the words, “oh come on,” written all over his face. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who would go after their dads.”

That comment sparks something in you. “Who says I’m not going after their moms?”

He laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now that’s a sight I’d love to see.”

“Do you think those college boys taught me all those things we did last week?”

Tommy clears his throat. “I think there’s a couple of things I’d like to teach you. Just as long as you promise not to use them on any college boys.”

A brief silence settles over you. Then, “Who taught you how to do all that, by the way?” you ask.

“All what?” Tommy teases.

“You know …” You shrug, but shift excitedly when he puts his warm hand on your naked thigh. His fingers are rough from his daily work, but his touch his so gentle that something melts inside of you.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

You sigh and glance up at the roof of the cabin. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re … what we did last week was the best sex of my life.”

Tommy squeezes your thigh. “There’s a wrong way to take this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head is what I’m saying.”

“It’s too late for that.” He pulls a grimace, brings the car to a stop in front of a red light. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me where you learned all that.”

“What? Eating pussy?”

“Oh my God.” Your face heats up because of him for the second time that evening. “Yes, that, but also … I’ve never been with a man who was so concerned about my … my pleasure.”

“I was in the Army,” Tommy answers.

“And they teach you that there?” You can’t quite tell if he’s being serious.

“If you’re on leave in some Godforsaken place, and there’s fifty other strappin’ young men you’ll learn fast enough how to please women. Or you’ll spend every night alone.”

You nod slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Oh no, missy, you’re not changing the subject.” Tommy’s hand climbs higher on your thigh; he’s almost touching the hem of your dress now.

You shrug. “You’re right; those college boys are boring. You’re … you know what you’re doing.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you have no one to compare me to.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “No, I’m saying that because it’s the truth.”

Tommy glances at you again. “I don’t like that laughter.”

“Jealous?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admits.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, your voice suddenly soft. “There’s no reason to.”

Tommy pulls off the main road then and onto a dark parking lot. You’re about to make a teasing remark when he turns the car and suddenly the glistening Austin skyline is sitting right there in front of you, like a mirage in the desert.

“Wow,” you breathe and sit up straight.

“Did I promise too much?” Tommy wants to know.

“You didn’t promise me anything,” you remind him.

Your gaze wanders to take in everything, the dark trees shielding you from the road, the city that sits right there as if it wants to tempt you to reach out and touch it, the nearby bridge where a car passes in your direction.

“Wait a minute,” you say slowly. “I know exactly where we are.”

“And where’s that?” Tommy asks, a barely concealed smile on his face.

“I’ve heard stories about you and this place.”

“What kind of stories?” Tommy grabs a can of beer from a cooler on the backseat and opens it with a sharp hiss. “Only good ones, I should hope.” He hands you the can and you take it, but pull a grimace at him at the same time.

“What?” he asks.

“You used to take girls here when we were in high school,” you answer after taking a sip from the beer. “Lots of girls.”

“A handful, at most,” Tommy corrects you.

“More like a handful at the same time,” you mumble.

Now it is Tommy’s turn to ask, “Jealous?”

You take another sip before you answer. “I was back then. I had the biggest crush on you.”

“I’m flattered.” It sounds as if he’s mocking you but the flush on his cheeks tells a different tale.

“You never noticed me, of course,” you go on.

“You were a bit young,” Tommy points out.

“And now I’m not?”

“Now you’re a well-traveled woman who’s back in her little town for summer.” You open your mouth but he goes on. “Now you can tell when a man is takin’ you for a ride and when he’s serious about you. Do you still have a crush on me then?”

You shrug. “A different kind, maybe. I definitely don’t fantasize about you confessing your love for me anymore. Or about us running away together.”

“Why not?” Tommy takes a big swig from the can. “I think you should start doin’ that again.”

“Or I could fantasize about other things, less innocent things.”

Tommy shifts and clears his throat. You can’t help but smile at how little it takes to shift the mood.

“Like what?” he asks, and the beer can cracks in his grip.

“Like how you held me down last week,” you answer, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Or how softly you touched me afterwards.”

“You don’t have to fantasize about those things. Give me somethin’ new.” The slightly commanding edge to his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well … when we were in high school, I used to wonder what it would be like to be taken here by you. What did you do with the girls you drove out here?”

In the distance, you can hear the sound of another car gliding across the bridge.

“Can’t you guess?”

“I was very innocent back then,” you remind him. “My thoughts never went past a small kiss on the lips.”

Tommy licks his. “Yeah, but now? What would you like me to do with a woman I take here?”

The tension has become unbearable and you giggle, searching to relieve it. It doesn’t work. Tommy’s hungry gaze wanders down to where your dress has ridden up your thighs and you inhale sharply.

“I still think a kiss would be nice,” you answer finally, your voice no longer steady at all. “But it doesn’t have to be all that innocent.”

Tommy puts one of his warm hands on your naked thigh, then leans in closer until he can hear your breath hitch. “Where would you like that kiss, darlin’?”

“How about you figure that out for yourself?” you tease him.

His lips are firm against yours, the pressure insistent until you open up for him. He tastes like the beer he just downed, the cigarette he just smoked. He also tastes like Tommy, and you relish how familiar you are with it after just two weeks. You sigh into the kiss, feeling all the tension leave your body. His teasing remarks and slight bravado are backed up by his skills, and you shudder remembering what else he can do with that tongue. You bite his lip to draw it out of him, but he only huffs and pulls back.

“Careful, darlin’,” he warns, his voice deeper now.

“What? Too wild for you?” you ask with a small laugh.

“Don’t get into somethin’ you can’t handle.” The tips of his fingers are under the hem of your dress now and you squirm, but he digs his nails into the soft skin. “See? I haven’t even touched you yet and it’s already too much for you.”

You raise your chin. “It’s not.”

“Have you ever fucked someone in a car?” Tommy asks, his hungry gaze fixed onto your face.

“No,” you reply slowly.

It’s not as if you didn’t know this was where the evening was going. It’s not as if you didn’t want it to go there. But now you’re here, you’re very aware of how exposed you are, even inside Tommy’s truck, and how many laws you would be breaking if you took this any further.

“Relax,” Tommy chuckles. His dark eyes are glistening in the lights of Austin. “You said it yourself: This isn’t my first time doin’ this. I’ve never been caught.”

“Oh, so I’m just another one of your conquests.”

“You can be anythin’ you want to be.” With that, he pushes his hand between your legs and places the tips of two of his fingers straight against your clit.

It’s as if your legs follow their own will when they spread open to give Tommy more room. He doesn’t need it, moving his fingers in a small circle, not breaking eye contact once. When he increases the pressure, one of your hands flies up to grab his shoulder, the other finds purchase against your seat.

“You like that, huh?” Tommy teases.

You nod, pushing your hips forward into his touch.

“Is it worth the risk?” His touch is lighter again, his fingers move slower.

Now it’s your turn to warn him with a, “Careful, Tommy.”

“Why?” His touch is feather-light now.

You move your hand that’s on his shoulder up to his jaw, cupping it. “You don’t want to turn me into a bad girl, do you?” You feel silly when you say it out loud like this, but his eyes light up.

“As I said, you can be anythin’ you want.” The tremor in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“How about we start by turning me into someone who gets fucked in a car?”

Suddenly, he turns his head, biting into the heel of your palm, making you squeal. When your laughter dies down, you notice how his fingers are moving faster again, accompanied by a wet sound.

“God,” Tommy groans. “Look at you. I’ve barely touched you.”

Something tells you that you should be embarrassed by how little it took for him to turn you on, but then he increases the pressure on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut with a moan.

“I can see you overthinkin’ this,” Tommy whispers, so close you can feel his warm breath on your neck and ear. “Don’t. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

“Tommy …,” you groan, and you don’t quite know why. Do you want him to go faster? Slower? Do you want him to make you come?”

He doesn’t allow you a single second to find answers to those questions. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

You roll your hips into his touch, and his other hand grabs your thigh with a firm grasp. “Don’t. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You open your eyes to find his gaze fixed on your face, eagerly licking his lips. In that moment, you don’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as you want him. Out of curiosity, you try to roll your hips again, and he lands a soft slap against your pussy in retribution, one that makes you groan with pleasure.

“Do that again,” you pant.

He hesitates for the briefest of moments, then does as you ask, a little harder this time. You fold, your upper body bending toward your knees, your head fuzzy with pleasure.

“I need you … inside of … of me, Tommy, please,” you stammer. You feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. He only rolls your clit between his fingers, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Please, Tommy, please.”

“Shhh,” he makes, and kisses your temple. “Later, darlin’. I want to see you come in your panties first.”

You grab his shoulder, feeling yourself tumble toward the edge. His fingers are moving fast enough to drive you insane with pleasure but it’s not quite enough to get you there. And he must know that, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Please,” you whimper.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice thick with arousal.

You risk a glance down between his legs, the obvious bulge in his jeans making you clench again. Then you press your hand against his moving between your legs, just so the pressure becomes a bit more …

Tommy slaps your hand away. “Harder, Tommy,” he says in a voice mocking yours. “Come on, say it.”

“Harder, Tommy,” you moan immediately.

And you’re rewarded with an orgasm so intense you see stars dance in front of your eyes. Your moans make your ears ring, and when Tommy doesn’t stop, they turn into desperate whimpers. It’s only when you grab his wrist that he stops and you try to catch your breath with a shuddering sob.

“Fuck,” you groan and close your eyes.

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. “Can’t believe you really just came in your panties for me.”

You laugh, your voice breaking when you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful right after an orgasm, you know that?” Tommy goes on, and you want him to keep talking like that more than anything.

“Why?” you ask, then gasp, when he presses his fingers against your clit before removing his hand.

“You’re so perfect,” he answers without hesitation. “I guess I like seein’ you come undone.”

You straighten your dress and look at the glistening Austin skyline in front of you. “You bring out the worst in me, Tommy Miller.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s almost impossible to take the good out of the girl.”

You glance down at his bulge again, lick your lips at the thought that it’s just sitting there, waiting for you. “It’s much easier than you think,” you reply, then begin to unbuckle his belt.

His hips jerk in response. “Careful, darlin’.”

“What? Can’t handle it when the tables are turned?” you tease.

He shoots you a crooked smile. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Oh, I intend to.” You grip his hard cock and pull it out of his jeans, relishing how his hips jerk again. Your mouth waters when you run your thumb over the glistening tip and hear Tommy inhale sharply. Your short, tight dress makes it hard for you to climb up onto the seat while still preserving some of your dignity, but one glance at Tommy tells you he couldn’t care less. His pupils are dilated and his mouth hangs slightly open while his chest rises and falls rapidly. All that just because you’re holding his cock in your hand. You stroke across the tip again, then move your hand down toward the base and lock your lips to his, capturing a deep groan. Tommy’s eyes flutter shut and you lower your head, closing your lips around his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, one hand immediately tangling in your hair.

You shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it’s hard, even if the bench of the pick-up is bigger than most car seats you’re used to. Tommy doesn’t care. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you swallow around him, his sharp taste overwhelming. It’s hot in the truck, and you can smell his sweat, smell your own arousal on his hand resting on his thigh. You pull off him until only his tip is still between your lips, then move down again, while he pushes, almost impatiently. Your neck strains uncomfortably, but you want to make this work. For him.

“Stop,” he says after his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag. “I want to be inside of you.”

You straighten your back and smile at him. Your lips feel swollen. “You are, Tommy.”

With his thumb, he swipes away saliva and pre-cum from your bottom lip. “Not like that.”

The way he looks at you, heated, yes, but also with an unguarded softness in his eyes, makes something flutter inside your chest. “What did you have in mind?” you ask.

He leans forward, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles your skin. The presumed forbiddenness of what he’s about to tell you makes you hold your breath. “I want you on top of me,” he whispers in your ear, voice low. “Use me however you want.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine and you nod, cheeks burning up. What have you done to deserve a man like him in your life?

You move to climb on top of him, but he stops you, his hand spread across your chest. “I think we’d be more comfortable on the backseat. Don’t you?”

You glance over the front seats at the dark space beyond and nod again. It’s also harder to spot you back there should someone decide to drive into the parking lot.

With practiced movements, Tommy tilts his seat, then climbs over it, briefly struggling with his loose jeans. You grin and follow him, body humming with pleasant anticipation. Tommy pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes and jeans, but when you start to take off your dress, he stops you.

“No. Just your panties.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

You can’t really tell in the dim light but he looks flushed when he searches his trouser pockets for a condom.

When you finally lower yourself onto him, you can feel his chest vibrate with a deep groan under your palms. He jerks and shifts trying to adjust himself, but you hold him down and roll your hips from side to side until he nods. For a while, you both just sit there and look at each other, his hands stroking your sides, your fingers playing with the coarse hairs on his chest. To you, this is the definition of paradise.

You roll your hips in small, slow circles at first, so imperceptible it takes him a while to notice. But when he does, he jerks his hips upwards, urging you to go faster, so you press your knees into his sides.

“No,” you tell him, and when he opens his mouth to protest, you put a raised finger against his lips. “Let me take care of you.” For a second, you think he’ll reject you; but then he nods. “Good,” you say, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip before pulling your hand back. His chest and neck are a deep red now.

It’s not like you’re planning on torturing him forever. You roll your hips a little faster, and with every deliciously lewd sound he makes for you, a little faster still. Soon, your resolve crumbles, and you allow him to stroke your naked thighs, to squeeze your clothed breasts, even to play with your clit. The humid air in the truck clings to your skin, and to Tommy’s, and you’re transfixed by a bead of sweat making its way down his cheek. You capture it with a kiss, then throw back your head with a moan when he rolls your clit under his thumb just so.

That’s when you notice it – the other truck parked next to yours. Was it already there when Tommy pulled into the parking lot? Did it pull up afterwards and you just didn’t notice because you were occupied with other things at the time? Whatever the answer might be, it’s not important right now, not when you notice the other truck isn’t empty.

A man is staring at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. He looks older than Tommy, but not by much, maybe a few years. His face is framed by dark hair and a dark beard, very prominent on his upper lip, less so on his cheeks and chin. His eyes are dark too, hidden in the shadows of the driver’s cabin, but you can feel them on you, watching every twitch of your hips with intent. And he definitely isn’t alone.

You can’t see the person he’s with; she’s kneeling in front of him, hands and knees on the backseat, and he’s holding down her head with his outstretched arm. All you can see is that she has dark auburn hair that the man uses to hold her in place. The back of your own scalp prickles at that sight and you wish someone would hold onto you like that.

You should stop and tell Tommy about the stranger in the car next to yours who is fucking a woman you can’t see while watching you fuck a man he can’t see. Or you should move to the other side of the car where he won’t be able to see you. The least you should do is look away. But you don’t do any of these things. Later, when you’re alone, you’ll ask yourself why, but there is no answer other than not wanting to break the connection you feel to that stranger at this very moment. You’ll think it a weak excuse then, but right here, in Tommy’s truck, it feels like the most sensual experience of your life. You’re both fucking other people and yet it feels like you’re fucking each other.

Beneath you, Tommy groans deeply, and he twitches inside of you. “Keep goin’, darlin’,” he mumbles.

You don’t know if Tommy is watching you or if his eyes are closed, you don’t know if his mouth hangs open, you couldn’t name the shade of red coating his neck. Instead, you watch as the stranger bites his lip, watch as his eyes flutter shut after a particularly deep thrust, watch how he presses the woman’s head down further. You can almost hear his pants and growls, and in turn your breath comes in short bursts. Why doesn’t he look away? And why don’t you?

His thrusts come faster now, and it’s not as if you’re consciously changing your pace too, but suddenly you catch yourself matching the roll of your hips to his. You groan when you see the smirk on his face, and your upper body falls forward, forcing you to brace yourself against Tommy’s chest. Why did that stranger’s smirk set the base of your spine on fire and why did your small moment of weakness make his face darken with resolve?

When you look up again, he has his eyes closed, so you close yours too, and for an instant, just one brief moment, you imagine it’s him thrusting up into you. That vision is so powerful you half expect it to be him below you when you open your eyes again, but it’s Tommy, and he’s watching you.

“Feel so good,” he mumbles. “So, so good.”

A twinge of guilt gets mixed in with that already explosive cocktail of feelings brewing inside of you, and you’re not sure what to do about it. Are you crossing a line with this? You don’t know; you’ve never heard about anyone in a situation like this. All you know is that when you lift your head, the stranger’s gaze hits you like a bolt of lightning. You feel it tingle in your fingers, up and down your legs, on the tip of your nose, and at the back of your neck. But most importantly, you feel it deep in your core that clenches with desperation. He lifts his chin and rolls his shoulders, pushing his chest forward, like he’s showing off to you, and you can’t help it – you dig your nails into Tommy’s skin and he groans with pleasure.

The air in the truck is so heavy it is becoming hard to breathe. You only realize that when you would need it most desperately. Over there, in the other car, the man’s hips suddenly still and you watch as he throws back his head, as a deep, dark flush climbs up his chest and neck. You can almost feel it, how he empties himself into that woman he’s fucking, how he empties himself into you. And before you can fully grasp what is happening, you’re clenching around Tommy hard and fast, making him snap his hips up into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Fuck!” he swears, holding you in place with two hot hands on your sides.

Your orgasm is still making your entire body shake, but it also feels like it doesn’t belong to you at all. You’re praying for the stranger to look at you again, one final time, but he has disappeared. All you can see is his back from time to time, and the woman’s knees that look like they’re trembling, as he goes down on her. You can’t help the jealousy that is clawing at the inside of your stomach.

Tommy pulls you down and gives you a searing kiss. “You’re fuckin’ amazin’, you know that?” You giggle and bury your face against his neck, trying to shake off that strange feeling of desire and yearning. “I’m very sorry I doubted you,” Tommy goes on. “No college boy could’ve taught you that.”

“That good, huh?” you ask, running your hand through his curls.

“Good’s an understatement,” he mumbles.

Carefully, he lifts you off him and takes off the condom. You’re on the other side of the truck now and can barely see the top of the other one. That loss is strangely irritating.

“Take off your dress,” Tommy orders.

You look at him, at his flushed cheeks, at the drunk desire in his gaze. “Ready for round two already?” you tease.

He shakes his head. “No, but I won’t make you wait for me.”

His mouth is hot against your sensitive clit, and you roll your hips up against his tongue eagerly. Above you, the roof of the truck is cast in shadows. You stare up at the boring gray, eyes wide open, because as soon as you close them, you see the stranger, as clear as if he was still right in front of you. And you refuse to give him that kind of power over you.

***

joel miller taglist: @almodovarispunk | @chippedowlmug | @daimyosprincess | @giggly-otter | @girlbossnancy | @hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsstuff | @jennaispunk | @lexloon | @mandalaur | @mandinlore | @n7cje | @sin-djarin | @swimmjacket

in plain sight taglist: @shellshocklove

permanent taglist: @alexturner | @amneris21 | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed | @martellthemandalor | nyfeeer | @nobodys-baby-now | @od-ends | @pedrorascal | @pedrostories | @radiowallet-writes | @xoxabs88xox

[allthingslinguistic]

Language Guinea Pig Diaries #2: Highlights & Troubleshooting

I'm trying to improve my skills at four languages in preparation for summer travel: Italian, Dutch, Finnish, and Estonian.

Italian and Dutch I've studied a bit a while ago and I'm now trying to "activate" so I can hopefully have a conversation or two in them, while Finnish and Estonian I'm trying to pick up some rudimentary bits in. Here's the previous post in this series describing these goals and strategies in more detail.

Highlights

I've progressed from my menu of only gelato-making videos in Italian to other recipes in general, and in particular to lots of cooking videos from this popular Italian home cooking channel which was in the recommended videos after another one I watched. Maybe I'll branch out again at some point to other speakers, but for now it's nice to be able to stumble into more videos without having to think up new keywords to search. Also, I might need to make some of these recipes now...

The Dutch podcast listening is going well (though see weird issue below) and I especially like that the podcast I chose because it's the only podcast I knew in Dutch contains a mix of adult-to-adult and adult-and-child speech, which is a fun way to mix it up.

In Estonian, so far I have learned one (1) highly useful word, "tere", which this video tells me is an all-purpose neutral greeting (neutral with respect to both formality and time of day). Ooh, I've just realized while writing this post that it's probably cognate to Finnish "terve", a greeting I learned from Duolingo! (Yes, I just looked this up, seems like they both mean something to do with health.) So I've already learned one neat thing!

I'm also recognizing a few Estonian cognates from the Finnish Duolingo lessons, especially the verb "on" (which means "is"). I'm not recognizing many other words though, and I'm wondering how much of that is differing vocab and how much of that is not having learned many common words in Finnish yet (I've been especially chafing at how few verbs we've learned yet, it would be really useful to have a word like "I want" even if it's unanalyzed because the grammar is more complicated than they want to introduce early).

Youtube's algorithm has, after about a week, adjusted to the fact that I now want to watch videos entirely in Italian, and started recommending further Italian videos on my home feed (it was already doing so at the end of previous Italian videos). Tiktok's algorithm, so far, has not done this yet, and is still recommending me stuff in English, despite me aggressively liking basically all of the Estonian videos I watch and nothing else.

Troubleshooting

I've noticed that it's been easier to remember to do the podcast listening in Dutch and the youtube videos in Italian because I already have habits related to opening those apps, whereas I don't have habits around using tiktok so I kept forgetting to open it and look at some Estonian videos. But a couple days ago I moved the tiktok app on my phone to a more visible location, and now it's getting easier to remember.

Something else very weird that I noticed about listening is that when I play the tracks on my phone fairly loudly, it's relatively easy to focus on trying to listen to them, sometimes while playing a simple visual game on my phone for something to fiddle with (I've already noticed that unfamiliar languages need to be played louder than familiar ones). But when I beam the podcast over to my speaker at a distance, suddenly I very quickly start tuning out the unfamiliar language and opening up apps that involve reading and completely ignoring it. I have no problems listening to podcasts on speakers in English; in fact, it's my preferred method when I'm at home, but for some reason this causes my brain to reclassify Dutch as background noise to be ignored, even if it's the same loudness as it would be when it's played right near me. Super weird, has anyone else ever noticed anything like this?

Previously in Language Guinea Pig Diaries:

Summer 2024 travel plans and Language Guinea Pig Diaries

[writingwithciara]

Love Boat ~Cam Cameron~

summary: cam takes the internship on the boat but before he leaves, y/n has something important to tell him

word count: 1.4k

pairing: cam cameron x bestfriend!reader

notes: okay so cam was the absolute sweetest person ever. i saw some people looking for some cam fluff so i decided to write some. this is a best friends to lovers prompt because that’s truly the best trope

masterlist

Most people dream about owning a beach house and staying there year round but very few people actually can say that’s what they do. Y/n lives in one year round. And to her, the best part is not being on the beach. No. It’s having her best friend live close by.

Cam was one of the only people who understood her completely. Their relationship was an open book and that was something they both loved about it. It was easy for them.

The only secret that was being kept was Cam’s. He was offered a summer internship on the whale-watching boat but didn’t know how to tell y/n without upsetting her. It was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. It became even harder when y/n came to him with tickets for a trip she wanted to take with him over the summer.

“I got two tickets for this cruise and I want to take you with me.”

“Me?”

“Of course you. Who else? Who better than my best friend?”

“I guess there’s no argument there, huh?” Cam chuckled awkwardly. Y/n looked at him and smiled. Cam loved that smile. “I got offered an internship on the whale watching boat.”

“What? Cam, that’s amazing. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck and avoided eye contact with y/n. “You realize what that means, don’t you?”

“That you can’t come on the cruise with me this summer?”

“Yeah. I would love to go with you, but this whale watching boat means a lot to me. N-not that you don’t mean a lot to me too.”

“Cam, it’s okay. I’m really happy for you.” Y/n smiled again. “You’re living the dream. Your dream. Do you understand how proud that makes me?”

“Yeah I do. And thank you for being so understanding. I couldn’t figure out the right way to tell you.”

“Why’s that?”

“I didn’t want to make you upset. We spend every summer together and I thought you would hate me for not being around this year.”

“I could never hate you, Cam. In fact, I….” Y/n paused and Cam stared at her. “Nevermind. It can wait.” She shoved the tickets into her pocket and smiled. “When do you leave?”

“I leave on Tuesday.”

“That gives us 6 days together. We can cram a whole summers worth of fun into the rest of the week. If you’re free, of course.”

“For you, I’m always free.”

“Just not for the summer.” y/n smirked and checked her phone. “Our week of summer starts at 6 pm. Meet me at the country club tonight?”

“Yeah. For sure. I’ll see you then.” Cam smiled as he watched y/n get on her bike and ride away. That was way easier than he expected it to be.

Later that night, Cam waited outside the country club for 15 minutes before y/n walked out. She had a special membership that allowed her to use the club whenever she pleased, just as long as she cleaned up any mess she made.

“Hey. What do you have planned tonight?”

“Follow me and you’ll soon find out.” y/n smirked and walked back into the club. Cam followed her out to the pool. When Cam saw what she had set up, he grinned.

“Wow. This looks so cool.”

“You always talked about how cool it would be to sit in a kiddie pool while it floated in an actual pool and look up at the stars.”

“I think the last time I mentioned that was almost 2 years ago. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“You’re my best friend, Cameron. I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten a thing you’ve said.”

As y/n climbed into the blow up pool, Cam realized he was more than happy that she was his best friend. It made it  so much harder for him to be excited about leaving her for the summer.

Over the next few days, y/n had so many fun activities planned for the two of them. By the last night, it became clear that Cam couldn’t even leave her. It would be too hard for both of them.

The final activity was all day laser tag and the rest of the night would be spent on the boardwalk. Y/n had won 80% of the laser tag so when it came time to play the carnival games, it was Cam’s time to show off. He won all the games and gave the prizes to y/n.

“Thank you, for all the stuff you planned out this week.” Cam sipped his root beer slowly and took a bite of his funnel cake.

“You deserve some fun once in a while.” She nudged his shoulder gently and looked at the wagon of prizes. “Thanks for all the prizes, Cam. Now I’ll have something to remember you by when you leave tomorrow.”

“Okay. Like years of friendship isn’t enough?” He joked.

“Of course it is. But you can’t cuddle up to memories, Cameron. That’s why I’m going to love these stuffed animals. Each and every one of them is stuffed with fluff and the warmth of knowing that my favorite person in the whole world won them for me.”

“You’re making this so much harder for me.” Cam started, nearly in tears.

“Cam, don’t cry. You’ll be back in 2 months. It’s not forever.” y/n was starting to cry too. Neither of them knew why it bothered them.

“I know. But what if something bad happens? What if the boat gets caught in a storm or what if a shark attacks us or something?”

“Hey, you’ll be fine. I know it will be. You’re going to be the best intern out there.”

“I’m scared though. I don’t want to be this terrified.”

“Cam, they’re just whales. They’re mostly harmless so you’ll be safe. I have the utmost faith in you, Cameron.” y/n held his hand tightly. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

“I’m really going to miss you when I’m gone.”

“Like I said, it’s only 2 months. You’ll be back before you know it & I will be right here waiting for you when you return.”

“I’m lucky I got a whole ton of pictures of us in my phone to look at whenever I miss you.” Cam smiled as y/n’s hand found its way to his cheek. He leaned in to the touch as she wiped away the tears that fell.

“Look, Cam, I’ve gotta tell you something. Something serious.”

“No, don’t speak.” His hand found the back of her neck and he pulled her in slowly. When their lips met, it was sweet and gentle. Completely on brand for Cam. He let her go and she sighed.

“I was going to say that I love you and it was okay if you didn’t feel the same way, but after that kiss, I think it’s safe to say that you do.” y/n let out a shaky breath. “Do you?”

“Yes. I do. I completely do.” Cam smiled and leaned back in. He was sure he was going to collapse if he hadn’t already been sitting on a bench. “You know, I think I’ve felt this way for quite some time but I wasn’t sure. Not until I got the internship and thought about being away from you. It killed me just thinking about it. That’s why it took me so long to say anything. I didn’t want to see the look on your face when I told you.”

“But you had nothing to worry about.”

“I had nothing to worry about.” Cam smiled and held her face close before resting his forehead against hers. “I love you so much, y/n. You’re my favorite person. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t come into my life 6 years ago.”

“I don’t what I would’ve done either. I thank god for you every day, Cameron. For everything you’ve brought into my life. The happiness, the warmth, the kindness, the wisdom and most importantly, the love.” y/n kissed him again. and again. and again. She never wanted to stop.

taglist: @worldlxvlys

[essektheylyss]

Ten Books to Know Me

@aboxthecolourofheartache reblogged her version of this from ages ago but she'd tagged whoever saw it and it sounds very fun and difficult so let's do it!

Tris's Book by Tamora Pierce - I had a habit as a kid of always picking up the second book in a series, so this was the first of Tamora Pierce's books I read. Emelan had an effect on me on a microcosmic level, I'm pretty sure. Anyway, the protag of a whole world of mine is named Tris now, in homage to Trisana Chandler, so. the particulate is still kicking around in my brain.

Ptolemy's Gate by Jonathan Stroud - Another childhood FAVE. This series as a whole started fucking with what I understood a book to be. Also the ending of it has a vice grip on me to this day, and it is probably why so much of my writing is very vibey and favors ambiguous endings.

Cyrano de Bergerac - This was the first assigned reading I had in high school that I utterly LOVED. I love this play so much, I love the tragedy, I love the quiet sorrow. This was also the first proper tragedy that I remember really loving.

The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan - This is a book of poetry and short stories by a Yale creative writing student who was killed in a car crash very soon after graduating, compiled by her professor after her death. I read it repeatedly in college; it is really quite lovely.

Underland by Robert Macfarlane - Apologies to Box who wanted reading recommendations, but she is who introduced me to this book if I remember correctly, and I have spent the two years since I read it habitually picking up Macfarlane's writing without even realizing it. Absolutely phenomenal writing.

Staying with the Trouble by Donna Haraway - @ professor Haraway I know you are a semi-retired scholar and also in the most expensive college town on earth but are you looking for research assistants cuz uh

The Mushroom at the End of the World by Anna Tsing - I actually read both Staying with the Trouble and this book on the same weekend in the start of 2021. I compromised on not including Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake, which I felt was very cliche of me, by including this book, which had as much of an effect. Read those three and Pantheologies by Mary-Jane Rubenstein and you will have some semblance of an idea of what the spiritual portion of my brain looks like. In the interest of not writing the same blurb four times I left the latter two off but know they make up a little microcosm of 'you could make a religion out of this' for me.

The Cat Who Saved Books by Sosuke Natskukawa - A Japanese novel about a cat who appears to a teenager after the death of his grandfather, a bookseller. I read it when I was very frustrated with trying to read contemporary fiction and it was a bright spot among that. (I am still very frustrated with the state of contemporary fiction and this book remains a light.)

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer - Okay I read this one most recently out of this list (over the summer) but it had been on my list for a long time and it really does live up to the hype because it is just so luminous in every sense.

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer - I had to put this one last simply because HOLY HELL. Rewired my brain. This is the goal I aspire to, this is the dream I dream, this is the highest peak among the mountain range of writing aspirations that I climb. If I can one day write anything even akin to the Southern Reach trilogy I will be ready to die, but that is an utterly unachievable goal so God's just gonna have to let me live forever, I guess.

[reidsaurora]

You are invited to:

Hello, my dear friends! Long time no sea! No, I am not dead, just depressed lol, but that's a story for another time because...

IT'S TIME TO CELEBRATE SUMMER BREAK!

I randomly decided like a week ago to do this. I didn't put much thought into it other than that I miss you guys so much and I need a reason to get out of my writing slump! So here we are, starting off our summer the right way!

The Main Attractions:

Sun Kissed - fluff requests

Looking for a cute and romantic blurb with the muse of your choice? Just ask for "Sun Kissed"!

Crashing Waves - angst requests

Wanting to get your heart ripped out of your chest? Then "Crashing Waves" is for you!

By The Seashore - headcanon requests

Craving a quick read that's still tons of fun? Then you should pick "By The Seashore"!

I Want S'More:

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Looking for a day in with your lover? Then "Malibu Dream House" is the way to go!

Another Day, Another Sand Dollar - work!au

In the mood for an office romance? Just ask for "Another Day, Another Sand Dollar"!

Sea-ing Stars - celebrity!au

Are you looking for glitz and glamour? Then "Sea-ing Stars" is right for you!

Building Sandcastles - royalty!au

Have you always dreamed of wearing a tiara or perhaps sitting on a throne? Then "Building Sandcastles" is the way to go!

Atlantis - fantasy!au

Mermaids, vampires, werewolves, oh my! If you're into the supernatural, just ask for "Atlantis"!

Past Universes I'm Happy to Write for Again:

SYGB!Spencer

Two Valentines!Spencer

Neighbor!Spencer

MIFFY!Spencer

Any other fics you'd like to see spin-offs of, really!

The Rules:

🌴 This event will run through until July 31st! - okay, so the flyer is a bit misleading... but i promise, August will have something just as exciting as this event!

🌴 Send asks to designated blogs! - i think it goes without saying this is a courtesy to me so i don't get posts confused. but if you have any questions about my other blogs, or really anything related to requests, be sure to check my pinned post or just ask me!

🌴 Please be respectful to the blogger and to others! - remember to use your noggin when putting in requests! treat people with kindness always!

🌴 Please be understanding when putting in requests! - i am simply one person who has ebbs and flows in life. while i try to get to everything in a timely manner, i do get overwhelmed sometimes. please be courteous and gracious when putting in requests. i promise i see all of you and try to get to everything as quickly as i can!

Thank you all so much for bearing with me these past few months! I am so thankful for each and every single of you. I wish you all a very happy summer! ☀️💛

my auroras! feel free to spread the word if you feel so inclined! 🫶🏻

@dungeons-are-too-cold @reidsbookclub @reidselle @broken-stardust @serenity-lattes @writer-in-theory @sadgirlml @gay-prentiss @ssahotchnerr @ptrckjcne @nomajdetective @writingquillsandpainpills

seashell dividers: @tsunami-of-tears