#i saw it as an attempt to take heat off himself by talking about his problems or whatever. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

januaryembrs · 4 months ago

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I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]

GIF by fightingdragonswithwho

decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone

word count: 17.5k

warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.

author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.

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‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,

I might just be in la la la la la love’

The one with the revenge.

“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck.

“Only if they have evidence,” Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins.

Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth.

“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark.

“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.

She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss.

She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won.

Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long.

And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another.

David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him.

Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another.

“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section.

They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing.

“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer.

“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle.

Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.

Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so.

He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab.

“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face.

“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore.

If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on.

Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her.

“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.

“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?”

“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,”

Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”

The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer.

He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love.

Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch.

He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen.

“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”

Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years.

Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks.

Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted.

Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.

Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer.

He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried.

He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless.

“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.

He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.

“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear.

He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set.

“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now.

Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office.

“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so.

And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him.

Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.

2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.

She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently.

“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness.

“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?”

He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.

Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances.

“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance.

“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so.

She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself.

“You’re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms.

“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it.

“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking.

“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried.

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”

“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this.

“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?”

“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”

He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.

She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other.

“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children.

She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material.

He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do.

Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him.

He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on.

Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke.

“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”

“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”

Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to.

“...Shit,”

“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.

“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered.

Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had.

“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out.

“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom.

Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit.

Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”

“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?”

“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”

Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy.

After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time, Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer.

The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.

Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-

A window. A window. That was it.

Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough.

Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself.

As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze.

Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall.

Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror.

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding.

“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?”

“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things.

Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!”

And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car.

Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.

Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that.

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head.

“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights.

“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror.

“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual.

He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing.

“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-” Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,”

He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really.

He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become.

“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”

“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,”

He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more.

“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman.

And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep.

And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died.

3. The one with the fake boyfriend.

Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen.

Because it was their room now. Not just his.

She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work.

It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-

He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?”

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light.

His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror.

His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.

Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”

Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth.

“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.

“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.

“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that.

“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”

Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”

“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”

His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”

“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”

“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”

“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.

“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations.

“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.

“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.

–

“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life.

If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.

Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.

“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.

“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap.

“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.

“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression.

“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant.

She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that.

“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,”

Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands.

“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it.

“Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”

He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin.

“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room.

“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more.

“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step.

“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer.

“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.

He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date.

“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them.

“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after.

He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”

But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime.

He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus.

And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry.

–

“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat.

“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more.

“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,”

“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet.

“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,”

“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?”

“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”

There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly.

And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details.

“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations.

And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely.

“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”

“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”

Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,”

“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head.

And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend.

God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over.

Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego.

But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her.

His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh.

“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?”

Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker.

4. The one where someone finds out.

“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.

“Oh, of course! I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,”

Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”

Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,” She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?”

Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together.

Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams?

Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay.

It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree.

She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked.

She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be.

Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”

Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork.

“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz.

“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,”

“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.

“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?”

Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,”

Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact.

“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”

Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.

“What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase.

“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic.

“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,”

‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care.

Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day.

Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,”

Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed.

If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her.

“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”

“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off.

Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”

“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving.

“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light.

Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”

And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.

–

She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes.

Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.

His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it.

“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created.

Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her.

Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking.

And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk.

It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious.

“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless.

And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate.

Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman.

“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.

“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-”

“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.

This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.

But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field.

And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye.

“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”

“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”

“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman.

“Pen, I’ll explain-”

“But you- YOU!”

“Shhh!”

“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,”

JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down.

“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.

“You don’t wanna know,”

–

“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly.

“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast.

“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-”

“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,”

Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”

If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again.

“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze.

“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home.

“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden.

“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”

“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,”

They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.

Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,”

Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,”

Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.

“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”

And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul.

Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast.

Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate.

“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair.

“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,”

And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was.

5. The one where he gets shot.

“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,”

“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp.

Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,”

She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step.

So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders.

She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd.

She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it.

Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public.

So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.

And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster.

His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met.

I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you.

–

“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”

“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..”

Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now.

“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,”

Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.

“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!”

There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her.

“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,”

Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?

“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.”

She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly.

“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her.

“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her.

Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub.

He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of.

Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy.

Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently.

“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”

Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.

–

Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.

“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line.

Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.

Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid.

“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her.

Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay.

“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?”

“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,”

“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,”

Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders.

“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword.

She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-

“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first.

She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face.

Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.

She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse.

“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip.

It was going to be a long night.

–

Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice.

He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery.

Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it.

“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him.

“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”

“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,”

It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same.

Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew.

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”

“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”

Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly.

“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,”

Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile.

He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?”

Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had.

+1. The one where they tell everyone

She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast.

Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend.

And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer.

And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least.

She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor.

She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be.

“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”

But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain.

And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers.

Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him.

She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle.

“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.

He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending.

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew grey gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader

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satoruxx · 11 months ago

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SWEET SNACKS.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader | 2.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: tooth rotting fluff, meet cute, battles with inanimate objects, reader's got exams bc i have exams, satoru's whipped af (as usual), sorry i love writing him as a simp, reader is also whipped bc this is gojo satoru, bonding over snacks !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: if you saw me tryna post this yesterday no you didn’t. this was supposed to be a quick drabble oops. but it's finals week so i'm offering this piece of fluff to maintain sanity and gush over the meet cute i will never have. if y’all are also dealing with finals, i'm wishing you the best !!

satoru strolls down the bustling streets with a quiet hum, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets to keep them away from the bite of the cold breeze. his boots crunch against the thin layer of melting ice that has formed overnight, now warming under the cold afternoon sun that coyly hides behind gray clouds.

honestly, he wasn't the biggest fan of weather like this, and he wouldn't have stepped out on any other day. but one meeting with the higher ups had his mood souring, and shoko had suggested he take a walk, maybe grab something to eat.

he knew better than to argue with her, especially since she could somehow read him better than most people could—scary.

so here he was, trudging down the streets of tokyo with his hat pulled over his ears, cheeks pink from the frosty air as it dances across his skin. despite the weather, satoru thinks there's something oddly peaceful about the city, the quiet chatter and sounds of boots scuffing against pavement as he turns a corner to head to the nearby vending machines he's frequented so many times.

the peace is broken by an annoyed grunt, and satoru looks up.

"are you serious?" another irritated groan. "of all the days…"

he takes in the scene with interest.

even with all the anger that he's not quite understanding, he thinks you're so undeniably pretty—puffy jacket hugging your body and the warm scarf resting around your neck. your brows are furrowed, exasperation tugging your features into expressions that shouldn't look so endearing.

you groan again, slamming your curled fist against the glass of the vending machine—frustration ticks at your brow.

and why wouldn't it?

nothing was going your way today. it had already started off badly, the atmosphere filled with gloom that made it impossible to want to leave bed. but you had to force yourself to miserably extract your body from the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows that urged you back with a siren's call—a promise of comfort that looked all too enticing.

and then, when you finally did manage to drag yourself to the library to sit down and study, nothing was sticking. you read through paragraphs over and over until your head was spinning, dizzy with information that wouldn't absorb, and that fact is nothing if not disheartening. the impending quickness with which your final exams were approaching made you feel even sicker, so you decided to take a twenty minute break to grab a drink from the nearby vending machines.

but of course, even that couldn't just work out.

satoru watches you stand in front of the machine with a glare, before you're shoving your weight against it, huffing as it remains in place and hoping that at least one of your efforts will prove to be fruitful. he's talking before he can help himself.

"hey, you need some help?"

you turn to face the owner of the voice, finding cerulean eyes behind black shades that so directly contrast the white of his snowy hair. he's tall—abnormally so as he peers down at you with curiosity and a bit of mirth.

you think you've never seen a man so handsome in your life.

then you remember he's asked you a question, and you attempt to swallow down the unnecessary nerves that have taken root in the pit of your stomach. "oh, my uh…my drink got stuck," you reply somewhat lamely, cheeks heating up under his gaze as you think about how utterly ridiculous you must've looked to passersby.

satoru's eyes travel from your face to the machine, noticing the way your drink of choice is stuck in a frozen free fall against the glass and the rack. he sighs in exasperation. "tried hitting it?" he asks, walking closer to stand next to you and take a closer look, even though he knows the answer already.

you're not sure what it is, but this man exudes a certain energy—confidence that leaks through his very skin. it makes you feel like you have no right to be standing this close to him, but all he does is smile at you patiently, waiting for an answer.

so you nod, brows ticking again as the dull throbbing in your fist reminds you of how you had lost the battle with the greedy machine. "yeah, i've been hitting it for the last ten minutes. didn't budge," you sigh, checking your phone to see that there are only a little over five minutes remaining for your quick break. "what a waste of time and money."

satoru watches you shrug helplessly, smiling up at him. "oh well—"

he takes two long strides until he stands right in front of the machine, grips the edges, and shakes it hard.

satoru can feel you gape at him, at the unfiltered display of strength, and the unbothered expression on his face that tells you it didn't faze him. you hadn't been able to move the machine even an inch.

his powerful movements earn you a tell tale thunk, and your heart leaps in excitement as he bends down to push his hand through the slot and pull out your drink. he returns to his full height, an easy smile on his face as he turns around and hands it to you.

"thank you." your voice comes out breathless, a weird kind of excitement thrumming through your veins because it feels like you aren't supposed to know this man.

satoru's smile stretches further when your fingers graze his, taking the drink and popping it open eagerly. he watches you take a sip, oddly pleased with himself at the sheer joy on your face. he doesn't quite understand why this drink looks like it's made your day, but he doesn't ask because you look so sweet drinking it.

"how did you do that anyway?" you ask after you drink a little, curiosity so obvious in your tone. "i tried so hard to move it and it didn't budge at all."

satoru smothers a smile, fighting back the urge to say something stupid. instead he grins, cheeks warming a little under your eager stare. "guess i'm just strong."

you make a face, raising a brow with a playfully disbelieving expression as you cross your arms—to which satoru just laughs. "what's your name?" he asks.

you purse your lips, hiding a smile as you tuck your nose behind your scarf. you give him your name, almost shyly, and satoru tests it on his tongue. he decides he likes the flow, cocking his head as he replies with his own.

"satoru."

for once, the pressure of his last name doesn't permeate the air, and he's all too grateful for it. he turns around to approach the machine again, and he can feel your somewhat confused gaze on his back.

you watch as he stands there for a good minute, his back to you as he ponders the choices in the vending machine like they'll lead to life or death. then he shoves in a bill and clicks a few buttons, and within a couple of seconds, you hear the thud of two things falling.

he remains facing away from you for a few more seconds and then turns around, and you see that he's bought a chocolate bar and the same drink that you have in your hands. you raise a brow.

"well you did almost just lose your life trying to fight a vending machine for it," he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. "figured it'd be good to try."

you sputter over your words, embarrassment crawling up your neck, but satoru laughs good-naturedly. his eyes shine with mirth as his shoulders relax. "i'm kidding." he stresses, smiling into the collar of his jacket. "but it does look good so…"

he opens the drink and takes a sip, eyes squeezing shut dramatically as he hums at the sweet flavors washing over his tongue. you suddenly feel like getting revenge for his unfiltered teasing.

"well?" you hum cheekily, taking a sip of your own and raising a playful brow. "taste good?"

satoru laughs—a full, pristine sound that makes him throw his head back. "yeah," he agrees easily, feeling oddly fond of the way your voice curls around your words. "it's sweet, i like it. you've got great taste."

somehow the words of this man you've met not five minutes ago cause the muscles of your heart to trip over themselves. you watch him peel open the candy bar, a brand that's unfamiliar to you.

"what'd you get?" you ask, unsure of where the confidence to speak up is coming from. a man like satoru—so unflinchingly ethereal—would normally have your lips zipping and throat muted.

he holds up the bar with a grin. "my favorite."

there's a pause, followed by your sheepish smile, and satoru gapes at you, cerulean widening so clearly behind a backdrop of white. he takes in your innocently confused expression and his ribcage shakes with thuds. "what, you've never tried it?!"

before you can even shake your head no, he's breaking off a piece and handing it to you.

"no, oh my goodness, it's yours—"

"take it." he pushes his hand closer to you, eyes staring imploringly, and you sigh, reaching up to take the piece from between his fingers. a graze of skin—he's warm.

"thank you." you slip the piece past your lips, not at all surprised by its sweetness and yet a little taken aback by its underlying comfort—a rush of warmth.

"good." you're nodding, smiling between chews as satoru's stomach flips. "really good."

he chuckles, all too triumphant for something so menial. "told ya."

you laugh, a quiet subdued sound that satoru wishes he could hear more of. "thanks for getting my drink out," you say. "i really needed it today."

"oh yeah?" he finds himself asking. "how come?"

you sigh, smile dropping as a bit of fatigue makes itself comfortable on your face. "ah well, i've got final exams this week. i've been studying like crazy. nothing's really sticking, and the closer i get to the exams, the more annoyed and stressed i get."

satoru hums, not envying you for a minute.

"so it kinda felt like a kick in the butt from the universe when the drink decided to not just…"

he laughs again, taking another piece of chocolate and chewing on it soundlessly. "i gotcha."

you grin, curling your fingers around each other to diffuse some warmth back into them. "yeah."

there's a silence that follows—not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. you take quiet sips of your drink, and satoru breaks off little pieces of the chocolate bar to chew on. his eyes linger on you, watching the way your lips curl around the bottle, the way your fingers rub against each other, the way the cold has settled into your nose and cheeks and made a home amongst your skin.

when you look up at him, he looks away, throat oddly parched. his fingers flex.

"here, the rest is for you," he says, pushing the half finished candy bar into your hands.

you shake your head immediately. "no way! you paid for it! besides isn't this your favorite snack?"

satoru shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin that looks too happy. "you liked it, didn't you?"

you nod, slowly, like you're confused at what he's getting at. "well then, enjoy the rest of it. i buy them all the time—i don't mind sharing this one."

you can't help the soft smile that graces your lips, looking up at him with an odd sense of gratitude and surprise—touched that someone could be so casually kind.

"then thank you," you laugh quietly, eyes fluttering against the gust of cool wind that tickles your skin. "i'll enjoy it."

satoru grins, uncharacteristically pleased—he won't ever admit it, but he's glad shoko told him to take a walk. he'll have to thank her when he gets back.

he clears his throat, offering you a small wave as he turns on his heel to head back to the school. "well then, see you around. good luck with your studies, yeah?"

you smile with a gentle nod, oddly rejuvenated after seeing bright blue eyes and snowy hair. "thank you."

and then he's disappeared into the crowds. you laugh to yourself quietly, looking down at your drink and the half-eaten candy bar nestled between your fingers. a part of you feels strangely forlorn, wishing that you had the guts or confidence to talk to him a little longer—ask a little more.

but you've never been good at that, so even just this small happiness you'll take in stride. you grin to yourself, shoving the drink into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders.

you begin walking back to the library, fingers breaking off pieces of the chocolate and savoring the sweetness on your tongue. somehow you didn't expect a man with such an imposing presence to enjoy simple sweet things like this, but that just makes you all the more fond of him.

by the time you've reached the entrance of the library, you're shoving the last piece of chocolate into your mouth, sighing as the doors of reality swing open once more. the meager slice of giddiness that enveloped your very being dissolves, and all the reminders of what's left to do come back to suffocate you.

you bite back a groan, about to throw the empty wrapper in the trash when something catches your eye. you double-take, peering down at it with wide eyes and rapidly heating skin. there are a set of numbers scrawled there, along with a haphazardly written message:

in case you need someone to fight another vending machine for you -satoru <3

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru headcanons #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x you

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

Note

I don’t know if you have this but please can i request headcandons of the spiderverse Boys with their lover reader wearing their (spider boys) clothing like a hoodie or a t shirt?

Miles thought he had stopped breathing when he saw you wear the jacket he has been searching high and low for the past fifteen minutes.

He had been wanting to see you in his clothes but the poor boy didn’t know how to say it without tripping and stumbling awkwardly over his words like a new born baby deer.

‘Hey, have you seen my jacket-‘ his words faltered and then later died on his lips when he raised his eyes as he entered his room, only to see you wearing the very jacket he had been searching high and low for. ‘You’re wearing it.’ His voice cracked and out of embarrassment Miles cleared his throat and tried again. ‘You’re- You’re wearing it.’

You smiled at him, finding his attempts in keeping his cool amusing, especially when it was doing something small like wearing his clothes but you couldn’t help yourself! The jacket was still somewhat warm from previous use and smelt like him, which brought you comfort for the days where he couldn’t always be with you as it felt as though you had a part of him always with you. Though it doesn’t compare to actually having Miles with you, it still brought you a sense of relief and security that you always get when with the young lad.

‘Did you want it back?’ You asked, about to take it off when Miles exclaimed ‘no!’ Making you both jump with how loud it came out but made you both laugh none the less. ‘I mean, no, keep it on as long as you want. You look great in it.’ Miles admits, running the back of his neck, highly aware of the heat radiating within of every part of his body, from the tips of his ears to his chest and even to his feet, as though it was going to burn him from the inside out.

‘Just great?’ You teased, brows raised.

‘Did I say great? I meant you look beautiful, handsome, pretty, beautiful, cosy, comfy.’ Miles rambled and you knew you had to intervene before he hurts himself, which lead you to walk towards him and hold his face in your hands, internally melting when his beautiful doe brown eyes looked into yours as though they’re the only thing grounding him right now. ‘Relax, I’m only teasing babe.’ You reassured him, thumbs stroking his cheeks as means of calming him down. ‘Now are you comfortable with me wearing your stuff because I can stop if you want.’

Just when you were about to pulls your hands away from his face so you could remove and hand back his jacket, Miles placed his hands over yours, keeping them glued to his face as he looked at you adoringly. ‘It doesn’t bother me at all.’ He tells you. ‘In fact it makes me really happy just seeing you in my stuff,’ he chuckles to himself. ‘I swear it feels as though I’m still dreaming sometimes.’ He finishes.

Miles loves it when you wear his clothes as it means that even when you were apart, you’re thinking about him, always and wishing for his safe return. He feels loved, extremely loved.

Pavitr’s day is immediately made a thousand times better when he notices that you’ve been wearing his clothes. He fucking adores it so much to the point that he’s already making plans on just letting you use his wardrobe at your disposal.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad day because seeing you in his clothes even on days where he’s mentally, emotionally and physically okay, he’s automatically made even more chipper and happy to the point he will not shut up about his rant on how cute and adorable you look in his shirt.

He’s talking about a mile a minute that you were starting to get concerned when you saw he wasn’t stopping for breath. When he does remember to breath, you were able to realise the breath that you didn’t know that you had been withholding yourself.

Probably has a multitude of pictures of you wearing his clothes and might’ve made one his lock/Home Screen or maybe both, so that when he was doing his spider-man stuff, he’d be reminded that you were waiting for you Pav to come back safe and sound.

He will shamelessly scream it from the rooftops that you were wearing his clothes and say loud enough for all those within the radius to hear. He’s not ashamed in the slightest and will brag about it until he can’t no more. His friends, Hobie, Miles, Gwen and Margo were often subjected to these bragging sessions more so then anyone else.

To the point where Hobie and Miles dog pile him in getting him to shut up about you wearing his clothes for a second. Yes they get it, it’s really cut that your wearing his clothes and how when you return them to him they smell like you’ve never left.

They get it, Pavitr is an absolute sucker for you in his shirts and whilst they found it cute themselves, pav didn’t need to get all dramatic with his long winded speech about how his clothes on you looked as though they were tailored to fit you like the did him, nor how he believes that was a sign for him that you two were meant to be together forever.

Overall Pavitr gets overwhelmingly affectionate when you wear his stuff to the point where your being smothered alive by his constrictive hugs and flurries of kisses raining down on your face. He loves, loves, loves seeing you in his clothes. It makes him happier then he’s ever been.

Hobie is the definition of ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.’

So let’s say you find his vest with the pins spanning across the lapels and the spikes that traversed across the shoulders, draped over the door and decided to wear it for a while until Hobie notices it’s absence.

Jokes on you though because Hobie never left anything of his without it being purely intentional and Hobie left his vest over at yours with the intention that you’d pick it up and wear it out of your own fruition, rather then having him telling you to wear it.

Outwardly his reaction upon seeing you wearing his vest is relatively neutral but that’s only to those on the outside but you could see the smile etching it’s way across his face along with the mischievous, all knowing glint within his eyes that told you all that you had willingly fallen right into his trap, just as he expected.

You’ve been had but you couldn’t be mad because it meant that Hobie had this in mind for a while and played the waiting game to execute his little plan. He wanted to see you in his clothes that he was willing to leave his beloved vest in your hands.

Hobie isn’t territorial but just seeing you in his clothes makes him feel all sorts of things but he just chalks it down to being a spider attribute he got from the bite and nothing else.

All this cheeky fuck would say to seeing you in his vest is; ‘guess I was right, it suits you.’ Which might as well have been his way of telling you that you were more then welcome to steal his clothes but just don’t be surprised when you start seeing some of your own stuff disappearing now and then.

Can’t find your crop top?

Hobie’s wearing it the next time you see him.

Needless to say Hobie loves it when you wear his stuff, so he’s going to do the exact same but with your clothes because he loves the expressions he gets when you ultimately realises who had been stealing your clothes for the past few days.

Miguel may act cool, calm and collected with a smidge of feral his heart isn’t immune from melting at the sight of you wearing his clothing.

It doesn’t even matter how long you’ve been doing it as it always made this secret softy feel as though it was the first time all over again.

Miguel is so occupied with his work to unhealthy extent that he doesn’t realise your wearing one of his shirts, and even when he does; it takes him a minute due to the lack of sleep affecting his ability to comprehend his reality before he’s doing a double take upon realising that yes, that was his shirt your wearing.

It’s cute watching his eyes nearly pop out of his head upon realisation.

‘Is that my shirt?’ He’d ask, although already knowing the answer. He’s not against it, he’s just surprised that you’d even want to wear anything of his. He doesn’t think he’s deserving of such a gesture but it touches his heart nonetheless.

‘I missed you.’ You replied, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. ‘You’re so busy with work that I don’t often get alone time with you anymore. So whenever your away and I’m missing you, I go through your closet and pick a shirt out, and wear it for the rest of the day because it makes me feel as though your here with me.’ You finished with a shrug.

Miguel couldn’t help but feel his heart hurt upon your admittance of missing him. He knows how often he prioritises his work that he was completely blindsided by how it affect you, so much so to the extent that you sought out comfort from his clothes because he was nowhere to be found.

‘You look at home in my clothes.’ He tells you as he decided then and there to cut out some time of his day just for you and be there for you like a lover should be. ‘And I’m sorry that I haven’t been here as much as I should but I promise that’ll change.’ Miguel practically pleads to you as he holds you against his muscular chest, his hands rubbing your back, secretly loving how his shirt looked on you more so then anything.

Seeing you wear his clothes became Miguel’s favourite sight to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He takes pride out of it but the reasoning behind it will always make him upset at himself at his failings of being a partner.

It’s something he’s improved on ever since and you couldn’t help but get giddy when you felt him walk up behind you in the mornings, burying his head into your neck, greeting it with kisses, as his arms enclose on your waist, speaking to you in his low raspy morning voice about how beautiful/ handsome/cute/pretty/stunning you looked to the point where you wanted nothing then to bury yourself into his chest so he couldn’t see the dopey, lovesick smile beaming across your face.

Miguel isn’t immune to seeing you wearing his clothes and he never will be because it’s a declaration of love in its own unique way.

Peter B would find you wearing his clothes unbearably adorable.

He just wanted to squeeze you tightly but knew that probably wasn’t the smartest idea considering with his strength but that never stopped him from taking photos of you doing mundane things in his shirt or sweatpants that you had to tie up by the drawstrings.

Peter has taken too many pictures that he might as well have dedicated an entire album to you wearing his sweats, shirts or even his pink bathrobe and doing mundane things such as making breakfast, watching your favourite shows on tv, playing with Mayday and the like.

So don’t be surprised when he starts showing anyone that would listen over at the spider society pictures of his lover looking absolutely gorgeous/handsome/pretty/beautiful/adorable in his clothes 24/7. Miguel especially but Jess, Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Hobie and Margo were also some that got pestered by Peter.

Peter B is also very vocal and would smother you praise of how good you look in his clothes because what he says is 100% genuine.

For example;

‘Look at you! You look amazing!’

‘You’re so cute in my clothes, please don’t stop wearing them.’

‘How could my lover look even better when they’re wearing my clothes. It shouldn’t be possible but here you are, proving me wrong.’

This corny bastard would teasingly call you a mini version of him since you want to wear his stuff so badly.

You’ve defiantly caught him admiring you from afar when you wear his clothes. His eyes are soft and half lidded as he rests his face against his hand, he wasn’t aware that he was leaning so much to the point that before long he was on the floor. It’s so cartoonish and goofy but it’s just so Peter that you can’t help but let out a little chuckle before going over to help your lover off of the floor.

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immajustvibehere · 1 year ago

Text

Touch Starved Arthur x fem!touchy Reader (Part 2)

Pairing: hh!Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader (fluffly)

Part1 here!

summary: Arthur takes you and Jack out camping for two nights. Both of you have to battle your feelings for each other until you finally....

warnings: one bed trope, fluff, domestic bliss

6000 words

In the manner of Arthur’s approach, you knew he was up to something. His big hands rested on his gun belt, his expression was casual. His attempt to appear relaxed was almost perfect. You weren’t fooled so easily, though. By the smug grin that started to appear on your face as Arthur came closer, he understood that you had sensed his unease from a mile away. Your intuition was exceptional, and Arthur silently cursed himself for his own transparency. And suddenly, there were his subtle tells…the scratching of his neck, the scrunching of his nose, the restlessness of his fingers caressing the leather of the belt.

"Hey, what's up?", you asked and propped your head up with your elbow resting on the table.

"Uhm...I have a proposition to make", Arthur awkwardly sat down at the table. Thankfully, barely anyone else was around to witness this encounter. The sun hadn’t risen yet and people were only slowly crawling out of their beds. In fact, Arthur still saw the remnants of sleep in your features but the steaming mug of coffee in front of you suggested that you were diligently combating it.

"I'm all ears."

Arthur couldn’t help but detect the playful undertone in your voice. You had grown more comfortable around each other the last few days and weeks and some banter and teasing were commonplace by now, particularly in the presence of others. But when you found yourselves alone, which hadn’t really happened since last time, you’d feel like there was a more genuine connection and care for each other than either of you would normally let on.

"Ya can say no if ya don't want to but-...well, I already talked to Abigail. She said she was fine with it", Arthur started. You had no clue what he was on about, but he pressed on, "I suggested we take out Jack for a night or two. The boy needs to see something aside this patch of land and I thought...if you would wanna tag along? You know, I was fine fishing with him but I'm not sure if I'd be any good at the other stuff."

"Yes, of course", you immediately replied. Arthur wasn't sure why he had expected a rejection or a dismissal that he was stupid to suggest such a thing. You actually looked pleasantly surprised about the idea.

You smiled: "It's not just Jack, you know? I haven't left camp since we moved here, so I'll get to see some of the country too!"

"Okay, sure", Arthur said, still somewhat in surprise about what you had just agreed to. But his surprise soon gave way to a sense of anticipation, especially when he noticed enthusiasm. He couldn’t supress a warm chuckle, evidently relieved that everything had worked out.

You briefly discussed the logistics, and Arthur settled on a plan: a night between Dewberry Creek and Ringneck Creek for the first stop, followed by, if Jack was up for it, a night in a room at the Rhodes Saloon.

The following day, you were all packed up. Your horse carried a rolled-up tent, large enough to accommodate the three of you. Jack rode with Arthur, he was the experienced rider after all and would be much greater use in keeping the child from sliding off the horse. It was a fine day, the morning sun was veiled behind some clouds, offering a respite from the usual stifling heat. Rain wasn’t to be expected, the clouds looked like they would clear sooner or later.

For the ride, Jack was dead silent for ten minutes at a time but then asked any question he could come up with. Arthur appreciated your willingness to respond, particularly when faced with Jack’s more challenging inquiries that needed to be tailored for a child’s understanding. Arthur was outright impressed at your skill in addressing his questions, and kept silent, even if Jack wanted his view on something specifically.

It was a smooth ride. Once you had passed the first creek you kept looking for an ideal spot to build your camp. You watched happily how Arthur pretended to discuss the area with Jack, granting him the final say in where to put up the tent. Arthur was responsible for the tent while you went off with Jack to look for firewood. When you returned, the tent had been putt up and Arthur had already gotten out the fishing gear.

"Are we fishing again?", Jack asked with curiously.

"Well, we gotta eat something", Arthur answered.

"But fishing's boring!" Jack said back and Arthur chuckled warmly. The last time he took the boy fishing, it was anything but uneventful, though he understood that a four-year-old wasn't so keen on standing still and waiting.

You squatted in front of Jack: "Why don't you take your toys with you to the water? You can play and Arthur and I'll do the boring waiting."

"Mh, okay."

You walked over to Ringneck Creek. Arthur settled on the same spot he had been to while fishing with Javier a while back. It had a good overlook of the place, so Jack could play in the distance, while still being in eye- and earshot. You and Arthur sat down next to each other, not saying anything and prepping the fishing rod. Even when there were no words exchanges, both of you felt comfortable in each other’s presence. Arthur felt your eyes on him as he pierced a tiny bit of cheese through the hook and handed the rod to you.

“The fish get cheese for lunch? That’s mighty fine, don’t you think?”, you joked.

“This cheese? It has been mouldy for days now. It won’t do us any good. But for fish? The stinker, the better”, Arthur explained and added in a mumble, “Or so I’ve heard…”

You both threw out your line and before you quipped: “So you keep your mouldy cheese in your satchel with the rest of your food?”

Arthur watched the rings expanding around his line, then swallowed quickly before looking you in the eye. Not very convinced he answered: “No…?”

He had expected a lesson on proper food hygiene, but you only grinned cheekily: “Glad I took care of food for this trip. But you really shouldn’t do that, you know? Next time you leave camp for more than a day, I’ll pack you something.”

“Ya don’t have to do that, really”, Arthur replied out of politeness, but the idea of you walking up to him with a sandwich to take on his journeys sent tingles to his chest.

“Mh. I insist”, you said, “I’ll have to take care of you if your stomach goes mad, so I’d rather prevent that. Not that I wouldn’t like to take care of you. Don’t you never keep an injury or sickness a secret in front of me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am”, Arthur said, “You sound like Miss Grimshaw, it’s good yer away from camp for a while”, Arthur joked. Deep down, he knew that you didn’t want to control him, but that you sincerely cared for his well-being. Something Arthur couldn’t quite understand. Of course, he would do the same for you – but that’s different because he had already figured out that he liked your attention more than anyone else. No, that he liked you more than anyone else. Arthur got a little lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t yet entirely sure about his feelings for you. Mainly because he wasn’t sure how you felt. You were so kind and caring for everyone in the gang, he sadly doubted that he was anything special.

“I missed spending some time with you. Sorry that it’s so hard to sneak away from camp”, you said after a while, bringing Arthur back to reality.

“Doesn’t matter”, Arthur mumbled. He was embarrassed that he felt his cheeks getting warm, “We got away now, didn’t we? I feel almost bad that I take up so much of yer time.”

“Please don’t”, you laughed, looking at the man next to you with a smile.

“I think I saw Sean shed a tear when he heard that you’d be away from camp for two days”, Arthur mentioned.

“Yeah. I think he’s sweet on me”, you said so casually, that Arthur was caught off guard, staring at you in disbelieve.

Arthur cleared his throat before he slowly said: “I thought he and Karen…?”

“Well, Karen is good for one thing”, you said with an ambiguous smile, not meaning serious offence with those words, “I’m good for another.”

From the distance, you heard Jack calling for ‘uncle Arthur’. Arthur sighed with a smile and handed you his finishing rod.

“Yer okay to watch that?”, he asked.

“Sure, go ahead”, you encouraged him.

Jack wanted Arthur’s help to balance on a dead tree. It was wholesome to see how Arthur helped him up on the trunk and then held his hand so he would have an easier time balancing. Then the boy would sit on Arthur’s shoulders and break a smooth looking branch from a tree, using it to play swords fighting with Arthur. You knew that Arthur was gentle with Jack and compared to some men in the gang, even to John if you were honest, he was doing a great job. Still, you hadn’t dreamt that he'd be ready to take on a whole swords fight, pretending to get stabbed when Jack’s twig poked his leg. You noticed Arthur’s stolen glances in your direction. It was as if he wanted to make sure you were watching, though you didn’t have the impression that he only played along to impress you. Arthur seemed to genuinely enjoy it.

“Caught anything yet?”, Arthur’s voice woke you up from your daydreams when he walked up to you after a while.

“No…”, you answered and admitted, “I was a little distracted.”

“Ain’t blamin’ ya. We gave you a hell of a show”, Arthur said and took his spot next to you again. Luckily, a few fish bit later on and by the time you walked back to your tent, a fire could be built and the fish were grilled. A lot of time had passed, and the sun was already low in the sky. Jack demanded to be read to from his favourite book. After you had read a few pages and Jack had settled in to listen to some more, you handed the book to Arthur. He had been busy with stoking the fire and cleaning the grit, so he was a little caught off guard by the action.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”, he asked.

“Read to the boy”, you answered with a grin.

“Why can’t you?”, Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised in wonder.

“My throat is starting to feel sore”, you lied so obviously, that even Jack could have seen through it, “besides; I want someone to read to me too.”

Arthur considered the situation for a moment before giving in. The last time he read a book to someone…well, he wasn’t sure. Was it to Jamie when he was still a little boy or to Isaac? Did he ever even read out to Isaac? Arthur was prompted into opening the book when you suddenly snuggled up to him. But that alone made him lose his voice for a moment, so he had to collect himself before starting to read.

You loved how raspy Arthur’s voice would get when he was nervous, but it soon smoothed out and he had barely read for ten minutes when you had to stop him, because Jack had fallen asleep.

“’s barely even dark…”, Arthur commented after he had carried the boy to his bedroll in the tent.

“He did have an eventful day”, you said, and Arthur had to agree. The bottle of whiskey Arthur had brought was soon opened up and half was gone by the time you could make out the first stars in the sky. A lot of your conversation was just recollecting the day or commenting on happenings on the last few days, but after some silence, Arthur started a new conversation.

"Maybe, if ya told me what the other men ask you to do, I'd feel less a fool for asking ya fer something", Arthur suggested. The undertone of his voice revealed curiosity, but he had tried to keep that intent hidden. You were surprised that he remembered what you had talked about the last time it was just the two of us.

"You're unbelievable!", you exclaimed and giggled so light-heartedly. Arthur's heart melted when he saw the crinkles around your eyes. "You just want the gang's gossip!", you accused him.

"No! I'm just sayin'", Arthur shrugged with a smile, "It would really help a lot."

You looked at him, his blue-greenish eyes staring right back at you. You were an avid eye-contact holder, it was required for your role in the gang. But no pair of eyes ever compared to Arthur's. It was his turn to catch your gaze wandering to his lips, he also noticed how your eyes fluttered, when they looked up again, and then briefly away, as if you considered something.

"Fine. I'll tell you some. But I won't tell you who asked me for what."

"Sure."

"Mhhh...it's not the craziest stuff, if you’re expecting that. Most men like when I play with their hair. Or head scratches. I told you I was good at them! Someone likes it when I feed them. Like...you know...we go pick some berries and I feed them. It can be really,...domestic, I suppose. But then it becomes a lot of fun because we try to throw the berries into each other mouths, trying to catch them. It’s great..."

You got slightly embarrassed. When you spend time with other men from the gang, you always tried to give them an experience that made them happy. Some of it was oddly intimate. It didn't bother you much, but now, speaking about it with Arthur, you somehow started to worry that you'd be worth less in his eyes. Just because you have done those things with his friends. It wasn't like you slept with them. No, none, with very few exceptional instances, have ever been inappropriate.

You were silent for a while, those thoughts taking over quickly. And yet, what should it matter? It’s just Arthur, it was okay if he knew that side of you.

You sighed deeply, still finding Arthur’s eyes glued to your lips.

"Some of them like to show off to me. It's real stupid stuff. Like 'look how quick I can draw' or 'check out this piece of wood I whittled'. I suppose these are just things they are mildly proud at...but embarrassed to show someone. I...like that, though. It's really cute and reveals something about the person. There is always something to praise or enjoy about it. And they really appreciate it."

Arthur stared into the fire, nodding his head slowly.

After a while, he started with: "I ehrm-..." Then he pulled out his journal.

"It's nothing special either...", he flipped through some pages, only to reveal a double-sided sketch of Clemen's Point. A beautiful sketch, well-observed with depth and detail. You knew Arthur kept a journal – you never knew he drew in it! And from all the sketches the other men had ever shown you, most of them could have been done better by Jack, this was honestly impressive.

"Arthur-"

"I know, 's silly", and he was about to close the journal when you snatched it out of his hand and placed it in your lap. Not daring to flip the page but studying the sketch in front of you.

"Are you kidding? It's fucking amazing."

When Arthur looked at you in disbelieve, you doubled down: "Fuck you, man. I can't even pick out things I like to praise because the whole damn thing's just-!"

"Yer teasing me..."

"Am not! When someone shows me a drawing, I often have to guess, like ‘Oh, that’s a nice bison you drew.’ And then they correct me and go like ‘It’s supposed to be a dog.’ and we have a good laugh about it…but this…Is that Dutch's horse?", you asked, pointing at the little white stallion. Arthur confirmed it. You started to point at things, accurately identifying what it was. John's tent, the chicken coop, even the figure in the distance, that only was a vague outline of a person, you identified as if you had been there when it was drawn.

"You have more drawings in there?", you asked.

"Sure. But- wait", he took the journal back, carefully skipping the pages where he had sketched you, which had happened suspiciously often recently, and only showing you the landscapes and animals. You never expected that Arthur had an eye for things like that. A doe was captured perfectly in its shy manner. A funny looking cabin, a crooked tree. For all those things, Arthur stopped and took his time to draw them. It was stunning. You felt like he had given you a better idea of what sort of a man he actually is. To say you liked that version of him, was an understatement and you started to realise this with every sketch of ducks or fish he presented to you.

"When you find someone, someone you really like. And start a family...you could draw and sell those pictures, you know?"

Arthur was shocked. Firstly, why you knew about his wish to start a family, and secondly, that you suggested his drawings are nearly good enough for anyone to pay money for.

"Y/n", Arthur lamented, almost with a painful voice. As if you were that naive girl that had no idea about how life works. That there could never be a family for him, never a different life than shooting and robbing to get to some money.

"Have you ever painted? Like with colour and a paintbrush?", you interrupted.

"Ain't worth it. I'd be no good with colour. And it's too expensive."

"When's your birthday?", you asked out of the blue. You were determined. If you had to work your ass off for it or drop to your knees in front of Miss Grimshaw, you'd get this man a paintbrush.

"No", Arthur said firmly.

"Come on!", you quipped.

"Stop it. It's just a stupid thing I do to pass some time it ain't-"

"But I love them!", you interrupted, "I really do. Every single one you showed me."

"Clearly, something ain’t right in your head then", Arthur joked and put his journal away.

"You are a charming man, Mr. Morgan," you teased back, bumping into his shoulder.

As if your words had confirmed Arthur's accusation, he comically tapped your forehead with his index finger: "Really messed up, aren't you?"

"Why?", you said, switching gears and skilfully capturing Arthur's finger that had went for another tap. It took both of your hands to open Arthur's hand, not that he resisted, but his hands were huge. And with your guidance, Arthur's hand cupped your cheek. "Is it because I like to spend time with you? Do you think one has to be mad to enjoy that? Because if you do think that...I have to give you ten reasons why you are wrong."

Arthur barely listened to your words. His senses were hyper focused on his hand which was touching your cheek. Warm and soft. Not smooth like a perfect hide, but skin isn't perfect. Hell, his hand must be mighty uncomfortable. It was calloused, beaten up, scarred. There was no rational reason why you would snuggle your face into it like it was a pillow you readied for a night's sleep.

With pleasure you watched how often he blinked, how flustered he became, how his hand twitched in excitement under your touch. As careful as you were some butterfly, Arthur’s thumb dared to caress your cheek. The movement was so small, it was like he didn’t even want you to notice that you he had dared to do that. Somehow, this rough and hardened outlaw was a real sensitive guy. A sensitive guy who made your stomach flutter.

"I'll head to bed and join Jack, you coming too?", you asked, guiding Arthur's hand into your lap and holding in lightly with your two hands.

"Imma...t-take care of the fire a little longer", Arthur answered with coarse voice, his throat entirely dried up.

"M'kay", you smiled and stood up without letting go of Arthur's hand. Halfway in the process of standing up you halted, pressing a light kiss on Arthur's cheek and whispered good night, before finally letting go and walking off to the tent.

Though you were exhausted, it was tricky to sleep. You listened to Arthur who was still attending the fire, walking up and down, whispering to the horses and occasionally took a swig from the bottle. Jack slept at the side of the tent, you had taken the spot in the middle. No matter how long it felt until sleep finally took over, Arthur crawled into the tent ten minutes later, only to find out that you had messed with the sleeping set-up. It wasn’t the way he had arranged it, namely, a very inequal distribution of blankets and ‘pillows’ (rolled-up jackets or other garments). Arthur had planned to spend the night without a blanket, so you and Jack had two. But you had given up one of yours, which neatly waited on Arthur’s bedroll for him.

“She ain’t gonna make this easy for me”, Arthur thought, before lying down.

“Uncle Arthur!”, Jack squatted next to the man who was still fast asleep. Well, until the boy started to shake him with all his might, though it barely rattled the man.

“Aunt y/n told me to wake you”, Jack smiled innocently. Arthur was trying to grasp the situation. For a fleeting moment, he thought there was danger nearby. Then he had been confused about why Jack was there. Only slowly, as Jack left the tent and the rays of sunshine hit his face, he remembered that he had went out camping with you and the boy. And clearly, he had overslept.

Arthur crawled out of the tent and stood up with a groan, stretching his tired limbs. The smell of coffee had reached his nose before he looked down to see Jack walking towards him, a half-filled cup in his hands.

“For you”, he exclaimed. Arthur took the mug and mumbled his thanks, looking up a little to finally lay eyes on you. The fire was on, the percolator boiling with water, and he saw that you were in the process of readying a little pan for some eggs you had apparently taken from camp.

“Good morning”, you said with a big smile.

“Sorry I overslept…”, Arthur grumbled, sitting down by the fire.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you could catch up on some sleep.”

Breakfast was nice. You scrambled some eggs, garmented them with herbs you had collected earlier and re-filled Arthur’s mug. Jack was happy after eating a few bites and then playing with his toys in the distance. Arthur and you discussed the rest of the day and decided you would take your time, see if Jack was up for a ride and a stroll through Rhodes and spending another night at the Saloon.

Later, Jack helped you with washing the dishes at the creek. You managed to talk him into throwing a wet rag at Arthur, which he answered by throwing the rag back at you. This started a game of dogde or catch the rag. You laughed a lot. By mid-day you were on your horses, carefully navigating the shadows to escape the relentless sun. After one very slow hour of riding, with breaks whenever Jack discovered something interesting on the ground that needed further investigation, you arrived in Rhodes. After restocking on groceries, you made your way to the saloon, finding it relatively quiet and peaceful still.

“Can I help you, folks?”, the bartender asked, leaning on the counter.

“A room, please”, Arthur stated briefly. The bartender considered you for a moment, his eyes wandered from Arthur to you and finally your hand that rested protectively on Jack’s shoulder.

“We have a special deal for families. Spacious room, enough beds and a discount on a bath”, the bartender explained, opening the ledger where he kept track of which rooms were taken.

“Sounds great!”, you chimed in happily before Arthur could do as much as open his mouth.

“There you go. Walk up the stairs behind there, first door on the right”, the bartender handed you the keys, “Just let me know when you want the water heated up.”

“Will do, thanks!”, you answered. Your free arm was quickly intertwined with Arthur, who was taken by surprise. He stiffened a little but walked off with you and Jack rather convincingly.

“Whoa! This bed is huge!”, exclaimed Jack when you walked into the room.

“Ain’t for you though, little man”, Arthur chuckled. The room was equipped with a bed that was big enough to fit a couple and a toddler, but there was still a children-sized one in the corner. Arthur noticed how your arm slipped away from his as you entered the room, dropping some of your luggage onto the floor.

“Luxurious, isn’t it?”, you smiled. It was definitely better than the rooms you’d get in Valentine and probably even cleaner than the other ones the saloon had to offer. Jack was settling in, testing how bouncy his mattress was and unpacking his toys while Arthur walked up to you, clearing his throat.

“Yer fine with sharin’ a bed?”, he asked.

You raised an eyebrow: “We shared a tent last night, and that was a much tighter fit, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I guess…”, Arthur felt a little helpless. Sharing a bed felt more domestic and intimate than sharing the same tent. Also, Jack wouldn’t be all snuggled up to you, but in his own bed at some distance. Frankly, Arthur was excited. You watched his frown, not quite sure if its origin was because of discomfort or simple nervosity.

“Are you okay with that? I could bring my bedroll and-“, you wanted to suggest, but Arthur was quick to interrupt you: “I just didn’t know if you were fine with it. I don’t want ya to feel uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry about me”, you smiled, “I’ll go down and ask for a bath. Abigail will be glad I we bring the boy back cleaner than he was before.”

Arthur was alone in the room for nearly an hour, before you and Jack appeared with damp hair, smelling of soap. It was decided that Arthur would also make use of the warmed-up water, and as he went off to the bathroom, you and Jack set your plan in motion.

By the time Arthur returned he was met with a sight that initially puzzled him. The two of you had transformed the little corner with Jack’s bed using the limited resources available to you, creating a makeshift fort out of pillows and blankets. Jack’s small bed had been turned into a cozy cave of sorts, sheltered from the outside world to the point where you needed a lantern to read a book within.

Arthur didn’t even see you at first, he only heard Jack’s bubbly giggle and you shushing him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to play along and pretend that he didn’t know where you were…like some sort of hide-and-seek. But he decided against it, instead sighing happily, and sitting down on the big bed.

“I can hear ya, ya know?”, he said gently.

“No you can’t!”, Jack said back.

“Should have built it bigger, doesn’t look like I’ll fit underneath there”, Arthur commented. Now, you peeked out. Arthur saw how you opened a mouth, but something stopped you for a moment. His hair was wet and slicked back. He hadn’t even bothered putting on his shirt, but instead only wore his pants and union suit underneath. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to button it all the way up. It hugged his muscles perfectly. You knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected THIS.

“Shouldn’t have grown so big then”, you finally said, a fine blush on your cheeks.

As the evening advanced, you had read several chapters to Jack, lulling him into slumber. You then quietly slipped into the bed beside Arthur. After some casual conversation which both of you skilfully and awkwardly used to get closer to each other, Arthur asked something that had been on his mind for a while: "What do you get out of it? All the nurturing and caring for everyone in the gang? Has any one of them ever done right by you?"

"Well...I have a place to stay and sleep. I don't have to worry too much about earning money. And I like making others happy."

Arthur didn't like that. A place to sleep and food, he felt like, shouldn't be things you had to earn by listening to the complaints of others all the time.

"All you get is hearing the troubles of some dirty, foolish outlaws. Ain’t really a life, is it?"

"Some make me happy too", you admitted, quietly. You realised how Arthur tensed up slightly.

"I get to know y'all. Don't you think that's a privilege? For a woman my age? Others can't simply walk around in the street, offer some hand-holding a listenin' and expect this to pay for their meals."

"You want to do this for the rest if your life?", Arthur asked. You scanned his body, focusing on the dark hair that grew on his chest.

"No", you whispered, and gently, you put your hand on his chest. You felt his heart, no, you saw how it beat, the skin of his chest swiftly moving in an up and down movement.

Arthur...was different than the others. You didn't know if it was that there was an actual difference, or if it just felt differently. But the way he treated you, the way he held you...it was so gentle. Like it was touch meant for a lifetime. The others were slightly more prudish, because they knew they had a couple of hours with you and maybe they'd be shot and die the next day. Somehow...not Arthur. When he pulled you closer into a hug, it was always the same, as if it was a welcome back, a coming home. There was no holding onto it, because he sorts of knew you would always be there. And you wanted it to be like that too. Because you, as tricky it was to admit, had feelings for this man.

Now it was you who caught Arthur staring, staring at the unsure movements your lips made as you searched for something to say. Maybe to explain what this all meant to you.

"Do you think it's ridiculous, what I do?", you asked. You wanted to know Arthur's opinion, truly.

"What? No."

"Really?"

"Hell, we'd be a bunch of degenerates if ya didn't keep us together. Yer ignoring Micah. For good reasons, I gotta say, and look what a slimy no-good he is. We'd be all like that if it wasn't for you", Arthur said. There was humour in his voice, but he meant what he had said. You smiled slightly.

"I wish I had come to you earlier", Arthur said.

"We are making up for the lost time, aren't we?", you said and leaned into him. The gesture seemed so familiar that Arthur wrapped his arms around you with barely any thought. Arthur watched your fingers as they trailed through his hair on his chest, never resting somewhere for long but tracing lines from his collar bones to where his beard started on his neck.

“Do you mind?”, you whispered, your fingers resting on a button of his suit.

Arthur subtly shook his head and watched how you unbuttoned one button after another. You had him slip out of the sleeves so the suit could be pulled further down, now exposing his entire abdomen to you.

There was no way he could hide his hitched breath. Your touch tickled pleasantly as your fingers explored his skin. He was enjoying those careful attentions, you'd trace around bruises and old scars, Arthur was focused on how it felt differently, the abused flesh and the scar tissue that had lost sensitivity. He noticed, either for the first time ever, or he had forgotten in the meantime, how ticklish he was on his side, under the ribs. He had no urge to laugh, but his body reacted to your touch differently, squirming when your skin brushed over his. Arthur noticed that you took a liking to those reactions, because he felt the corner of your mouth, which was pressed into his arm as you leaned into him, curl into a smile.

It was quiet. Sometimes the yells of a bar fight could be heard or someone hammering on the piano, but that aside, it was only Jack's silent snores that disturbed the peace.

"Arthur?", you whispered and sat up.

"Mhm?", Arthur looked sleepy. It wasn't even that late yet, but something about the situation was making him sleepy in the best way. You said nothing more. You only put your hand on his cheek, briefly caressing his stubble.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?", you asked.

For a few moments, Arthur's mind went completely blank. He only breathed a shaky "Yeah" and your lips brushed his already.

Instantly, Arthur's hands pulled you in closer. You were close, lips brushing, breathing each other's air. It was all you needed, before both of you finally pressed into each other.

You knew Arthur was gentle, but this sort of tenderness took even you by surprise. And Arthur- well, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. When was the last time he had kissed a woman? No, when was the last time he kissed a woman and felt like his heart was about to explode in his chest. He had craved this ever since the night you spent together. And by the way your hands wandered to his hair, fingers running through his strands, he knew you had wanted it just as much.

It was a soft kiss and both of you looked sort of surprised when it had ended. Arthur sat up slightly and pulled you on his lap, which earned him a happy grin. You started to pepper the man in front of you with kisses. Super light, as if a breeze was brushing his forehead, his cheek, his nose, under his ear, the corner of his lips. You had lost count, stirred on by a blushing Arthur underneath you.

"D-don't ya think that's enough?", Arthur said, kind of trying to dodge your kisses, but not really.

"Nope. You deserve this!", you said, but when you headed for his nose, Arthur managed to turn it into a proper kiss again.

Then you sank on his chest, lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around you.

For Arthur, this was a weird feeling at first. But he loved how your weight pressed him down into the mattress and how your hands always found a piece of his body to caress and tickle. He was embarrassed about how dry his mouth and throat became again, all of a sudden. He was convinced you realized how often he had to swallow and how hesitant he still was to move his hands any further down than the small of your back. Though if you noticed, you were very understanding. You clearly heard his heart hammering in his chest and waited patiently for it to calm down before speaking again.

"Can I tell you something silly?”, you said, lost in thoughts.

"Sure"

"I liked it when the bartender referred to us as family."

"Me too", and his hold on you became ever so tighter.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

@eyelovie @t3rritorial-piss1ngs @daenerysluvrr @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @tem60 @freshoutthewomb2 @itswormtrain @ineedyoubadly @lea-khena @anawkwardartistandgamer @pheesupremacy @tahitiansiguesss @c2ss1e @alyxhasonsocks @kagemaruzest69 @agaritas @lonesome-ranger @joelmillers-gf

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

Text

You flinch during a fight

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How they would react to you flinching during a fight/argument.

Warnings: angst obviously, slight implications of past trauma, not proofread

A/N:(damn, y'all really like angst, huh? Lol) Thanks to the lovely anon who sent this request, I hope you like them!

Masterlist

Requests are open

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Seokjin: Jin forgets just how big he is sometimes and how intimidating that can be. Which is why, when he swung around suddenly to say something and saw you take a small step back, he was confused for a moment before it hit him, and he froze. The room had fallen silent, both of you unsure of what to do or how to proceed. "I didn't mean to-" "I know." You stopped him before he could finish. "Cause you know I would never-" "I know, baby, it was just a reflex." You told him, knowing he would beat himself up over this if you didn't stop him. "Can we just say you won the fight and move on? He asked, making you grin as you wrapped your arms around his middle. "Sure."

Yoongi: It was a tiny movement, so small it would've easily been missed, had he not been looking at you when he slammed his hand down on the table in frustration, causing you to wince. Instantly, he felt every ounce of anger drain away, replaced with hollow shame. "Are you okay?" He asked quietly after a long pause, not meeting your eye. You nodded. "You just startled me." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm his own nerves. "Can we not do this? I don't wanna fight, not like this." "Me neither." You agreed. You settled on just spending the evening together quietly, eventually talking through the original issue much more calmly.

Hobi: As loud as Hobi might be, he almost never raises his voice with you, which why it caught you so off guard and made you flinch. It was a purely instinctual response, but for Hobi, it made his heart absolutely shatter, eyes immediately glazing over with tears. He was supposed to be you safe place, your protector, how could he make you feel unsafe? As if you could read his mind, you were quick to try and reassure him. "Hobi, it's okay." "No, It's not, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I'm so sorry." You end up sitting together, comforting each other for a while.

Namjoon: He didn't even realize just how tightly wound you had both become during the argument until he slammed a cabinet door, making you jump. Glancing up to see you, clearly startled, his stubborn pride evaporated. "Lets not talk it about it anymore right now, we're not gonna solve anything while we're upset, okay?" He asked, keeping his tone soft in an attempt to soothe you. "Okay." You nodded. "Can I hug you?" He asked. Again, you nodded, letting him carefully tuck you into his chest. "I'm so sorry."

Jimin: He knows he can be intimidating when he's angry, but he never thought you would view him like that, until he saw you flinch back into the sofa cushions. His eyes got so big, before sinking down next to you on the couch. "Did... did I scare you?" He asked, barely able to speak above a whisper. "I don't know." You said, which he knew was your go-to response when you wanted to avoid the truth. Biting back a wave of emotion, he spoke, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper." "It's okay." You said. It wasn't, not to him, but he didn't want to push you further right now. Right now, he just wanted to make you feel better.

Taehyung: When he whipped around to face you, only to see you instinctively shrink back, he froze, hands falling ground his sides. "Babe." He said, voice small, wobbly. "I wouldn't... you know I wouldn't, right?" "I know, it was just a reflex." You said even more quietly, fiddling with your fingers which he knew was a sign of how stressed you actually were. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled you into a tight hug. "Please know that you're always safe with me."

Jungkook: He knew you hated loud noises, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn't help the the raise in his voice. As soon as he saw the tears in your eyes though, he panicked. "I'm sorry!" He apologized profusely, rushing over to hold you, maybe a little faster than he should've, but he couldn't help it, he couldn't stand the thought that he'd made you so upset. "Please don't yell." You sniffled. "I won't, I swear, I won't. I'm so sorry baby." Clings to you for the rest of the evening.

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deathbxnny · 2 months ago

Text

Genshin men meeting you, their idol, for the first time. | Lyney, Kinich, Childe x Gn!Reader

The idea came to me randomly, so enjoy! (I've been freed from my writers block wooo-)

Content: Reader is a famous person, Childe going a little feral, vague mentions of flirting, Ajaw being Ajaw, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》LYNEY

You were a famous magician who did shows all over Teyvat. Everyone knew of you and your incredible talent, making you an international star to all. No matter where you went, diehard fans would always come to see your breathtaking magic tricks with wide, sparkling eyes. You were able to bewitch the crowd with the most simplest moves, a graceful smile always on your beautiful face as you did so.

And when you finally came around to hold a show in the grand theaters of Fountaine, Lyney had the chance to meet you backstage in between your sets. Despite the fact that he should have seen you as competition considering his own passion in the profession, he couldn't help but watch you with that same awe-struck expression. It was a privilege to meet you, one he wouldn't pass up for anything.

His heart was beating against his chest wildly, yet he still pushed through with the greeting he had gone over and over again in his mind. He wanted to impress you after all. Taking your hand in his, he kissed the back of it, a sly and playful glint in his eyes. "It is an honor to meet you." He hums before pulling a rainbow rose from behind your ear skillfully and holding it out to you, secretly relishing in the giggle you gave him. Ignoring his sibling's deadpan from behind him, he held out his arm to you. "May I show you around? This is your first time in Fountaine... and I can assure you that I'm the best guide you'll find. Consider it a favor amongst like-minded magicians such as ourselves!"

His nervousness never shows, and his smile never falters. This was perhaps the best show he had to put on in his life... but when you gratefully accepted his invitation, he felt his worries melt away, glad he didn't come off as a desperate fan.

》KINICH

He tried to stay indifferent when he was suddenly standing in front of one of the most legendary warriors Natlan had ever seen, which just happened to be you. He felt his hands become clamy, arms tightly crossed across his chest, whilst he watched you speak with Mualani about the latest news regarding their annual tournament. Attempting to simply stay out of your line of sight in fear of embarrassing himself, he leaned against the wall hidden in the shadows, content with being in your close proximity... until Ajaw caught onto what he was attempting to do.

"Ohoho... are you trying to crawl into a hole and disappear like the little worm you are?" He giggled evilly, floating around the deadpanning man, who was trying to ignore him like always. But Ajaw wasn't having it. If there was something he lived for, then it was the suffering of his dearest companion. "You know... I think you should go talk to them! Actually, let me help you out since I'm feeling oh-so nice today!" Kinich's eyes widened slightly, his lips parting to hiss out a warning, but the creature was too quick to stop, filled with determination to cause chaos.

Following after him with quick steps, Kinich was quick to banish him before he could reach you. This meant, however, that he was now standing in front of you and Mualani. Heat crawled up his neck and cheeks, as his friend happily introduced him to you, seemingly not having noticed the doom that had nearly hit you earlier. But his slightly panicked mind stilled when he saw you give him a kind smile. "Ah, I think I know you... or well, I've heard of you, at least." You said, and he felt himself take a shaky breath in relief and wonder.

Perhaps Ajaw had actually done something nice for once... which would definitely enrage him once he was released from his imprisonment.

》CHILDE

Oh boy... you knew him way before you met him, that's for sure. Mainly because he was hellbent on fighting you at least once. He didn't care if he lost or won either. It was all the same to him, as long as you were the one to press the blade of your sword against his neck. And that alone made you often just outright avoid him, whenever you were in the motherland for business. You were a well-known assasin and agent for the first Harbinger, serving directly under him, which, of course, brought you great strength that Childe wanted to experience desperately. He needed to know if the rumors about your skills were true or not.

And unfortunately for you, he finally was able to get his deepest wish fulfilled when you accidentally dared to linger around the courtyard for way longer than you should have. "Please... fight me in a duel at least once!" He called out, knowing he has you cornered now. Despite him idolizing you greatly, you could tell his cocky pride and ego made him think he was an equal to you. Or perhaps that was just how things appeared to be. He was an unreadable force of energy that admittedly had caught your interest a while ago.

"Will you finally leave me be, if I do?" You asked after a moment of pondering silence, and the man just gave you a smirk, his dead eyes burning with determination you had never seen before. "Let's let our blades decide that." Chuckling at his response, you unsheathed your sword and faced him with a sigh.

This is not how people usually approach their idols... but you supposed that nothing was normal in the place you called home.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin kinich x reader #genshin kinich #genshin lyney x reader #genshin lyney #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe #genshin childe x reader #genshin

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gladiatorcunt · 8 months ago

Text

summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing.

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face.

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response.

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail.

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet.

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face.

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze.

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you.

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?”

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth.

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two.

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months ago

Note

prefacing this by saying I have absolutely no information on this period of history, but Rome was sacked and ultimately destroyed by Germanic tribes.

And naturally, the first thing I thought of upon learning that was Invader!König X Roman Maiden!Reader. Similar to your story, I’m thinking he decides to take the Reader as a trophy of war similar to his comrades. You and plenty of other maidens are tied up, thrown across horseback or across shoulders, and dragged off back to Germania. Depending on how dark you want it, König could wait for his little prize to want his cock, or he could have no patience at all and fuck her as soon as he gets a chance. Of course, he’s still somewhat of a gentleman, he’ll make sure she enjoys it, but like it or not his cock’s going in her.

I think this is an opportunity to lean even further into the barbarian König idea, with varying levels of darkness.

Save me dark barbarian!König... 🖤💋

CW: dark content, noncon groping, noncon cuddling, fear of SA, König's idea of hot sex is problematic to say the least, reader's level of enthusiasm/consent is ambiguous

He doesn’t care about your delicate sensibilities or noble background, he’s here to bring your Empire down and your weak men to their knees. It’s about time someone burned Rome to the ground; no amount of foreign perfume can cover the smell of shit in these streets…

But he won’t say no to gold or jewels, they might some day decorate his future wife's neck and wrists perhaps. Neither will he ride homeward without a slave to keep him warm. He hasn’t had a woman in months, the only thing closest to a cunt has been his calloused fist and he’s grown tired of that, nothing can compare with the real deal so a soft little female is exactly what he needs to keep him company when he and his warriors return North.

Your options are either freezing to death or crawling inside this giant’s cloak when he holds it open for you come nightfall, the voyage to Germania bringing with it the first snow and cold winds straight from Hades. You have no option but to go to this man for some body heat, the low rumble in his chest resembling the pleased purr of some untamed beast as he envelops you in wool and a hungry embrace.

He never speaks to you, only talks with his hands that roam all over your body as you cling to him with clattering teeth. Examining the wideness of your hips, the plumpness of your ass and tits, he serves himself a handful and some pinches as if he’s sampling fruit at the marketplace. Rubs your nipples between the pad of his thumb and pointer until you flinch from pain, mutters something pleased when he sees your skittish reaction. He won’t allow you to pull away however, not when you’re finally here, so back to his arms you go as he crushes you against his chest.

He’s amused at your attempts to both huddle closer and squirm away: why are you being so difficult when clearly, you want this too?

He saw how you looked at him back there when he was drenched in blood, that’s the reason he chose you. You’re sweeter than an apple, didn’t even scream when he swept your hair from your face to have a better look at you, you only eyed him with challenge when he inspected your lips, waistline and hips. A scared female would have avoided his eyes and begged not to be killed or worse, but you only lifted your chin and spat on his face, practically begging to get fucked…

And now you’re acting like you don’t want his cock while at the same time, you continue to stare at him like a deer in heat. If you don’t want him to fuck you then you should stop making him hard, but in truth König is only glad that he chose you out of all women. The ride back home won’t be dull with a fiery fox woman like you, he has to be careful that he doesn’t get bitten and bruised… How his men would laugh in the morning if they found out that the vixen he stole has made him hers, little teeth marks decorating his skin and betraying everyone your claim.

He would only be proud of you if you did that; women are quite adorable when they have some fire in them. But make no mistake, he won’t let you go no matter how hard you act like you hate him… Everyone here knows you want to jump on his cock; had he decided to inspect your pussy too while covered in your husband’s blood, he could’ve bet all his fortune along with his horse that you were already wet for him.

He could take you right now on this cold, hard ground, try to see how long it takes to make you wet and pliant. The only thing really keeping him from doing so are his men, no doubt wanting to see how a Roman lady takes their giant leader's cock. But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you naked, let alone watching him fuck you, he'd have to kill them all afterwards...

So he settles for making his naughty little slave warm, and both of you a little breathless. He can find a more discreet place for you tomorrow, order a break or two to ease the heaviness of his sacks, the aching hard ons he’s had ever since he saw you. He has to be careful not to break you, and remember to kiss you on your neck, he heard that that’s the key to make women wet and willing.

You seem so fragile and frail when you fall asleep, finally surrendering to him, your body yielding and molding against his. In the morning, you whimper sweetly when he squeezes your now warm, plush body, and plants kisses on your face, your neck. You have no idea that the warriors are already mocking him for “making you wait so long”, that he has listened to stupid jokes all morning with you securely tucked inside his cloak. You bite him when he tries to come too close, all the brutes around you burst to laughter as he howls from pain.

Not feeling at all sorry for him when he rubs his neck and looks at you with drowsy curiosity, you rise and spit again on the ground as if you had just tasted something vile. He can’t stifle his smile then, your idea of foreplay is much more fun than what he had in mind…

And you aren’t flung over his horse, but actually get to ride it with him, the arm around your middle like iron as he keeps you as close to him as possible. You don’t know that he’s reluctant to take an unwilling woman, and that this preference makes him the laughing stock of the group. Neither do you know that König has already pictured you inside his hut, baking bread and scolding children like the firebrand that you are, giving him a naughty little wrestle and a fistfight every night before bed... Shuddering from want like you do now on his horse as he exposes your breasts to the approaching winter.

You are about to faint as tiny snowflakes land on your nipples, melting instantly as this man starts to fondle your tits. Slumping against his blazing form, you can do nothing but accept your fate as the horse keeps walking and the men around you shout and whistle at the sight of your breasts. The rough barks of your captor quickly end their excitement upon seeing your exposed tits, the whistles stop and the men turn their eyes quickly away from you.

The man behind you is now perfectly content, riding in the crisp morning air while pawing your breast with one hand and holding the reins with the other, his groin grinding against you with the movements of the horse, making it clear that he might soon stop this torture altogether and take you to the nearby woods for a quick fuck…

#barbarian!könig #dark content #spoils of war #historical au #tw: slavery #tw: dark themes #cw: dark content

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catboyieejeno · 1 year ago

Text

don't kiss and tell: part 4 ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

other parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

pairings: best friend! mark + best friend! jeno + best friend! hyuck x female! reader summary: “you’re mine, yeah?” — the finale of the don’t kiss and tell series. content: non-idol au, angst, hurt + comfort, smut, unprotected sex, pet names, spitting (only once), very plot heavy! read the other parts if you haven’t already! wc: 9.4k

masterlist

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

18+ minors do not interact !

the first sip of soju mark had the night that he met you was nothing compared to his final sip that evening. honestly speaking, he didn't want to drink soju at all; he always preferred beer because—well, it didn't make his face and ears go quite as red and it paired better with his favorite snacks. at least that's what he thought until he found himself at the quiet corner store by his apartment late on a thursday night, where he saw you for the first time.

you sat alone atop a tall stool, glowing from the warmth of the summer night's heat with an impressive six bottles of soju by your side. instantly, his plan to grab a few beers and some junk food to take back to his place after a tiresome, uninspiring day vanished.

he'd never admit it to you, but you were quite a pitiful sight—slumped over the table and halfway through your second bottle with black rings of mascara around your eyes. you were obviously not having a good day; that, and the fact that it was half past midnight, sealed his fate: in a moment's notice, he didn't know you, but even then, he decided that you didn't deserve to be out so late, upset and drinking by yourself.

that night, mark lee approached you, be it out of intrigue or intense sympathy, and unknowingly catalyzed the beginning of your friendship.

"do you plan on drinking all that by yourself?"

you didn't look up at first, staring blankly at his shoes that came to an abrupt stop a short bit away from you. for a while, you didn't say anything, either, completely ignoring his presence as you wallowed in your state of sadness.

just when he thought your silence was a polite form of rejection and made the first move to step away, the screech of the stool dragging against the ground drew his attention. you were looking at him now, one foot pushing the chair as a wordless invitation for him to sit down.

you're quick to shake around one of the soju bottles for him, watching the little tornado form a spiral behind the clear green glass. after twisting it open, you hand it to him, clinking your bottle against his and not waiting before bringing it to your lips for a sip.

he watches as he drinks, then follows suit, taking note of the fact that your gulp is significantly longer than his. you scrunch up your face at the taste, huffing out, and he asked, "do you not like this flavor?"

nothing.

mark takes another apprehensive sip and sighs. he'd much rather be at home having his beer with his loud roommates who hog his snacks. even if he were to have been alone, the more probable outcome since they went out often, he might still have been fine. why did he have to come up to you in the first place?

deciding this would be his last attempt at conversation, mark clears his throat, "do you wanna talk about it? i won't even say anything if you want. sometimes it's good to vent, ya know?"

truthfully, he's not expecting you to answer, and he's begun planning how he's gonna get up and politely excuse himself when for the first time, you meet his eyes. your hand dances across the table, taking the small, metal bottle cap and extending the attached metal strip until it's poking upwards. you hand it to him expectantly.

"do you-" he holds it up between his index and thumb, "do you want me to flick it..?"

you nod, "we'll take turns asking questions, and whoever flicks it off gets their question answered. if it doesn’t come off on your turn, you take a drink." your voice is not nearly as quiet or timid as he expected it to be, and it takes him by surprise. your speech is also not slurred, meaning either your drinking tolerance is relatively high, or you were still early into your night's mission of destroying your liver when he ran into you.

his train of thought stutters momentarily, but he clears his throat and managed to form a sentence, "wouldn't we get to know each other better if we were actually answering the questions?"

nonchalantly, you shrug, "i think the questions you're willing to ask a complete stranger say a lot about you."

mark blinks once at you before readjusting in his seat. he thinks for a second before nodding to himself, "okay. what's your favorite color?"

there's a small clink as he flicks the coiled metal, but it doesn't come off. you snort at his plain and boring question, taking the cap from his hands. as he awaits your question, he takes a sip, only to choke on it as your words leave your lips.

"are you like a pervert or something?" flick. it doesn’t come off.

"what? no!" instantly, he coughs out, wiping his mouth on his jacket sleeve, "why would you even think that?"

"you saw a girl drinking on her own and came over to talk to her. maybe you wanna take advantage of me or something..." you trail off, continuing after taking a drink. "anyway, that's not how you play—you weren't supposed to answer. you also can't ask me a question unless you flick for it after, but we'll call that a practice round."

"you just asked if i was a pervert! how was i meant to not answ-"

"that's also a question," you warn, waving the little green cap around in front of his face. he begrudgingly takes it, sitting up much straighter as he tries to conjure an equally staggering question to ask you.

"why would you let a random stranger join you for a drink on a street corner? what if i was a pervert?"

"that's two questions," you sigh out, but he fails to flick off the coil off so you take it from him again.

"if you're not a pervert, then why did you come up to me?"

as your finger meets the cap, it sends flying the piece of metal. mark's lips purse, realizing he actually owes you an answer this time. he also realizes… he doesn’t have one—not a very good one at least.

the tips of his ears are glowing hot as he clears his throat, “well, i-i was gonna… you just- and then i saw you and-” he pauses to take a deep breath, pleading with himself to stop his pathetic stuttering. really, he came up to you because you were sad, lonely, and drinking by yourself on a random street corner; he can't just say that though. you would be offended if he stated it so plainly.

after a short moment, racking his brain and sitting under your expectant gaze, mark gathers himself and his answer.

“today hasn’t been great. i was gonna go home to mope and drink, too. I only came to pick up some alcohol and that’s when I saw you sitting here, drinking by yourself. so, I figured, you know... that neither of us deserve drink alone...”

he hardly maintains eye contact as he trails off and you’re grateful, because there’s a small smile fighting to creep onto your lips. he's charming, albeit a little awkward.

“that’s a good answer,” you decide and finish downing your drink, spinning around a new bottle and twisting off the cap.

mark, newly encouraged by your praise, holds his hand out for you to allow him his turn. he even goes as far as flicking the air a few times for practice before aligning his fingers with his target.

"so, how and why did you end up sitting out here tonight?"

your breath kinda hitches in your throat.

"no one ever gets in on the first try," you try to argue, reluctant to reveal your answer, "so hand it over-"

there's a small clink as it lands on the cold pavement, the metal spiral that was proven to be no match for the boy. you blink at him and the accomplished, giddy smile that spreads on his face, letting your shoulders fall.

"you were saying?" he jokes, leaning forward. his cheeks and face are starting to flush red from the alcohol, "i believe you owe me an answer,"

"long day," you mutter.

"oh, come on. that's so vague," at your glare, his hand reaches over to land on your forearm, and your eyes follow it warily, "i promise, i won't judge you or anything."

his eyes are soft and genuine and boring into yours with no attempt to hide his curiosity. this game may have been your idea, but you didn't expect to actually have to open up to some random guy.

whatever, you think to yourself, it's not like he knows you enough to care. but then why would he ask? he does care, at least somewhat. why would he approach you if he didn't, right? anyway, you're not sure whether that notion makes you feel better or worse, but the soju is catching up to you and sending the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can decide.

"i got broken up with yesterday," you pause, but mark doesn't speak. his smile does falter, though, and you feel a pang in your chest for ruining the mood, "we were together for over a year and a half. as it turns out, he hasn't even been in love with me for most of it. he said that he 'fell out of love' a few months in. didn't bother letting me in on that detail, though,"

you laugh bitterly and take a sip, nose sniffling to fight any tears that might spill, "and i'm here because, well," you slosh around the clear liquid, "it beats being in my apartment and laying on the bed he's slept in."

another drink of grape soju washes down the bitter feeling in your throat, just as mark finishes his own bottle. for a moment, you think he's getting ready to head home after your confession, but he reaches for another without hesitation, handing you the cap when he peels it off.

he nods in encouragement, lips parting to speak, and his voice is soothing when it flows out. unknowingly, he'd say exactly what you needed to hear.

"i don't wanna overstep, and i don't want you to keep thinking about that asshole. he doesn't deserve it. so, instead," he wiggles the cap, "i'll keep you distracted. i will say, though, you don't seem like the kind of person who's easy to move on from."

"you don't even know me," you whisper.

"then take this soju cap, play your turn, and give me the chance to get to know you. your game's pretty fun, stranger, and we've still got a few bottles to get through."

"mark? mark! are you even listening?"

a couch cushion plummets towards him, hitting him upside the head and knocking the glasses off his face. He blinks a few times but he’s clearly still dazed as he turns to face hyuck, a distant look his eyes, "what?" he mumbles.

"dude, you've literally banana-peeled yourself three times in a row. what are you doing?”

bringing the hand that tucks his glasses back on down to rub his chin, mark sighs out, "sorry, just got lost in my thoughts for a second,”

it’s been happening incessantly the last few days–his mind drifting and getting lost in a memory of you. He can’t help but think of you, and each and every flash of your face that crosses his mind makes his heart ache just a little bit more. you haven’t answered his texts and calls, other than the very brief reply you sent this morning where you let him know you need more time to think things over.

it's a very reasonable, exceedingly rational, normal request. in fact, it's exactly what he expected you to say, but still... damn you.

damn you because for two hours straight this morning, mark had typed up at least a dozen different replies, spamming the back space button after each one since none managed to make sense of his disorganized thoughts. he thrashed around in bed, hovered his thumb over the call button a few times, even considered taking his car keys and showing up on your front door. your reply, which he waited nearly 72 hours for, had nearly driven him mad, and it robbed him of sleep for the remainder of the early morning hours.

he almost prefers you hadn’t answered him at all. almost.

“get it together, man! how am i supposed to beat jeno if you’re sabotaging yourself and therefore, my training session? i lost forty bucks to him last week ‘cause i couldn’t beat him at smash, i’m not losing to him again.”

on cue, the sound of the doorknob unlocking and twisting open alerts both boys who turn their heads; instantly, hyuck scoffs at the inconvenient coincidence and mark’s stomach drops in dread.

the other person responsible for his rapidly depleting mood and confidence, the last of the two individuals occupying his every thought–lee jeno.

mark lee has never felt so conflicted and confused in his life. sure, he understands where jeno's coming from; how could he not sympathize with him when he, too, is in the exact same position? still, it's frustrating because he’s pissed off, but he's not even mad at him, or at you, for that matter. he debated it for a while, but turns out he's not mad at himself, either. it's not any less true that he is angry. perhaps, it’s at the universe for its sick and twisted sense of humor.

it fucking hurts that he knows it's no one's fault and yet, he can’t help the way seeing jeno makes him sick to his stomach. to put it plainly, if it wasn't for him, you'd be his, but dwelling on that fact and wishing for the alternative is extremely selfish.

the boy, oblivious to his best friend's inner turmoil, walks in, swinging his gym bag off his shoulder and wiping his shoes on the door mat. he takes a moment to straighten it out since it was folded over, no doubt hyuck's doing.

“hey,” he greets quietly. mark only manages a grunt, but it’s not like jeno would’ve heard it anyway, with the youngest boy jumping up and out of his seat, creating a rattle as he knocks his phone and the remote off the couch.

his index finger shoots forward to point and shout, “you!” jeno looks over, alarmed as hyuck spews instructions, “couch, now. controller in hand. i’m handing your ass to you,”

“in your dreams,” he snorts. the couch dips when he plops down, and less than a second later, mark’s moving to leave. he can't bother to not make it obvious, and jeno's brow creases as he notices.

“yo,” hyuck drags out the syllable in a whine, “where are you going? jeno just got here.”

“he can use my controller, i’m not in the mood to play anymore.” without glancing his way, mark scoots up and passes the controller to jeno who holds an arm out to stop him.

“wait. you alright? you’ve been down the last few days.”

hardly managing the effort to reply, mark blinks at the ground. he says, “m’fine,” but his roommate's not convinced at all. jeno tries insisting again, smacking his lips playfully in one last attempt to lighten the mood.

“come on,” he urges, “stick around for a bit. maybe a few rounds will cheer you up, we can grab some beers and-“

but mark stands anyway, tapping his phone out of habit to turn on the screen, just in case there’s a notification from you. there isn’t.

“i’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

jeno remains silent this time, lips folding downward as his eyes follow mark who walks away. hyuck doesn't offer the same quiet, but his protests are drowned out nonetheless when mark has made it down the hall, shutting his bedroom door behind him.

⋆ ★

“alright, you’ve been warned.”

“come on, there's no way they're that bad,” you roll your eyes, nudging your shoulder into mark’s. he hollers an ‘ow’ at the impact, although it's half-hearted and mixed with a laugh. without giving it a second thought, he pushes you right back, setting you off balance. instinctively, you scramble to reach for his upper arm to keep from falling flat on your ass, and his quick reflexes allow him to grip your wrist and pull you to his chest. his eyes are wide as he stares at you, laughter echoing loudly.

you gasp, but your offense is short-lived. his giggles are contagious and you end up mirroring his expression, settling for smacking his arm instead.

“do you want me to end up in the hospital before i meet your friends?!”

mark only rolls his eyes and shoots you a playful wink, “i’d take it as a sign from the universe that i should gate keep you.” in one motion, he twists the key into the lock and when the apartment door opens, he calls out a hello to his roommates who he explicitly briefed you about on the car ride over.

firstly, he warned you about donghyuck, who he described as a funny, talkative, know-it-all that didn't know how to keep his thoughts to himself. mark also made sure to mention that he'd be probing you mercilessly, poking his nose in your business. "it’s his way of showing he cares," he had said. "reminds me of someone," you had replied, wiggling your eyebrows his way. mark smiled at your indirect compliment, then proceeded to express the fact that him and hyuck were very different, as you would soon come to find out.

then, he told you about jeno, who he claimed was so boyish and shy that it may initially appear like he doesn’t even like you. according to mark, he’s endearingly awkward but a very good, reliable friend. mark also mentioned the sporty boy has one weakness: he's highly susceptible to hyuck’s teasing. he told you how hyuck would pick on him at any given opportunity, then went as far as to say that “the most you’ll hear him talk is when the two of them are arguing,”

as soon as you walk in, it’s easy to immediately tell the two boys apart. the one you presume to be hyuck has his phone drawn to his lips and is yelling out the lyrics to a bruno mars song that plays from a speaker. his limbs are flailing, and he’s jumping in circles around jeno who stands stiff, patiently setting up the solo cups for a game of beer pong.

when they hear you both enter, hyuck is the first to spin on his heel, holding out a hand as if to dedicate the lyrics to his best friend and the girl he’s never met before. he takes shameless strides over before grabbing your hand to spin you in a circle. as soon as he reaches for mark’s waist, your friend recoils away and the two start bickering, leaving you to meet eyes with jeno for the first time.

with a deep breath, one that fails to soothe your hungry lungs and nervous heart, you bring your knuckles up, knocking three times on the apartment door.

when you pulled into the parking lot earlier, you noticed mark’s car was not in his usual spot, a sight that flushed relief through you almost instantly. it’s a strange feeling, because usually, you feel quite the opposite.

these last couple of days make the longest that you and mark have ever gone without talking since you met, and as much as you want to see him, there’s something you need to do first, and it’ll be much easier without him around.

you owe jeno a conversation, and he had been very patient in waiting for your call or text, unlike mark who accounted for more than half of your notifications. finally, you wrote to him today, just over a week after his confession, and asked if you could come over to talk.

it takes about a minute of you shifting your weight between your heels nervously for hyuck to open the door. he instantly moves aside to let you in, a hand holding his phone up to his ear. before walking over to the couch, where he presumably resided before your arrival, given by the snacks and mess of blankets, he nods once at you, then keeps arguing with the person on the other line.

“renjun, you’re insufferable. i’m telling you, there’s no way you can outdrink me.“

their interaction manages to crack a smile on your face, a feat that’s been harder to accomplish recently. as you kick off your shoes, your thumbs move quickly to shoot jeno a text that you’re here and then, you take a seat on the arm rest, returning to your state of nervousness. subconsciously, you bring a nail to your mouth to chew it as hyuck rips open a bag of chips and shoots you a look of disgust, waving at you so you’ll move your hand away. considering how often he bickers with renjun, he’s truly starting to resemble him.

you check your phone again, even though it’s only been a few seconds since you pressed send, and sigh out, continuing to lie in wait.

meanwhile, from the spot on his bed, jeno has a hand resting across his stomach, the other clutching his phone close to his face to watch a stream. the moment the notification of your text drops down, interrupting the league game he was monitoring, he shoots up into a sitting position.

he doesn't intend to make you wait so long, but it takes him a few minutes to head outside because, well, he takes the time to straighten out his bed and shove his running shoes in the closet in effort to tidy things up. jeno’s room is significantly cleaner than the other two boys, but this would be the first time you saw it, and he felt that it should look presentable.

when he deems everything accommodated, he wipes the sweat from his palms and steps outside. As he turns the corner at the end of the hall, his eyes land on you where you sit, fidgeting with your phone and chewing on your lip. for a moment, the air leaves his lungs.

the very first time jeno’s eyes glaze over your person, his train of thought–which was previously making a desperate effort to drown out hyuck's loud voice as he bellowed the lyrics of versace on the floor–is interrupted, halted at once.

all of his thoughts cease, as does his involuntary breathing process, and he has to instantly do a double take your way. you’re already looking back at him, offering a smile so soft and sweet that it provokes his own shy grin to form. the contagious, upward curve of your plump and pink lips is the first of your features that he notices, and his eyes blatantly admire it for a bit. the second thing he lingers on is the particularly dreamy blue hue of your crocheted cardigan as he acknowledges the way it brings out the color of your eyes. it highlights the shade of your smooth skin, and he decides just then that this color was made solely for you.

he can only spare it that single, passing thought, though. his focus is quickly drawn back to your smile, bright and unyielding, and in this moment, only for him.

god, how did he manage to go so long without knowing your smile?

it’s strange, the complicated curiosity that nestles in his chest; it tugs at his heartstrings until the organ is thumping incessantly in his throat. there’s an inexplicable warmth in your gaze, and although he has no idea who you are, he’s already appointed himself humbly at your disposal.

“hi,” you breathe out, voice as polite as the hand you hold out for him to shake, “i’m y/n.”

“hey,” he waves you over and you stand on wobbly legs, walking toward the hall that leads to his room.

he opens his bedroom door and moves aside so you can walk in first, his arm gesturing around, “you can sit on my bed, or on my desk chair. wherever is okay,”

with a hum, you set your bag down on his chair, scooting onto the edge of his bed and hiking your legs up so that you’re sitting criss-crossed. he joins you, sitting at the foot and leaning back on his palms, twisting his torso to face you, somewhat expectantly.

“hey, jen,” you quietly mumble, looking up from your lap to finally meet his round orbs. they’re as kind as ever, and a grin creeps onto his lips before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“i was starting to miss you,” he weakly jokes. although the mood doesn’t lend itself too kindly to humor at the moment, his charm still brings a smile to your face, “you haven’t been around in a bit.”

you nod in acknowledgement, “yeah, i know, it’s just…” the sigh that leaves your lips makes him frown, and he contemplates reaching for your arm, but decides against it. the air is thick, and he’s not entirely convinced the gesture would help soothe your nerves in the slightest.

after a few seconds of silence, jeno picks up on the fact that your trailing off was because you couldn’t seem to find the right words. that, or you didn’t have the heart to say what he assumed you were implying with your hesitance, maybe in an effort to spare his feelings. when you start picking at your nails anxiously, he timidly interrupts the quiet.

“i hope you know that i didn’t mean to make things awkward,” he starts, “i don’t want you to think that you can’t come over because i have feelings for you. you’re still friends with the guys, it’s not fair for you to feel like-”

“no, it’s not your fault! that’s not why i haven’t been over,” he doesn’t miss the way your eyes shift around in thought, and he nods once to let you know he’s waiting and listening.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” you settle for saying, shoulders slumping slightly, “but i can promise you that it’s not because of your feelings for me.”

there’s a bit of a sadness behind the smile he gives you—despite how much he tries to hide it—as he reaches his conclusion, “i think i’ve figured out by now that you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay,” when you shoot him a look, he only grins at you again, reassuringly, “it’s okay that you don’t like me. you can’t help that,”

the tears that prick at your eyes come as a surprise to both him and you. they come unprecedented and unannounced, beginning to roll down your cheeks as you nudge him and wipe at your face harshly in embarrassment, “you’re not supposed to be comforting me right now,”

“can i?” he asks, ignoring your scolding. when you don’t say no, he guides your hand away, replacing it with his own and using his thumb to swipe away at your warm tear streaks with much more care.

“you know i care for you, right?” you admit in one breath. it’s hard to keep your eyes on him, maybe because of the slight guilt you feel at this moment, consuming your usual confidence. somehow, tearing your gaze away would be worse, because it meant you wouldn’t be able to read whether or not his answer was sincere, and for the sake of calming your heavy heart, you force yourself to keep looking.

slowly, he nods in response, blowing softly on your eyes, “don’t cry, okay? never over me.” even at a time like this, he’s selfless, tending to you with small gestures and actions. you almost feel the need to cry harder, but you meet his request and attempt to pull back your tears.

“you know,” he starts, “the day that we met, the first thing i noticed was your smile. you were beaming, and i wondered in that moment, ‘how did i go so long without your pretty smile in my life?’” instantly, as the words leave his lips, your brow furrows and your eyes squeeze shut.

so much for trying not to cry.

“i looked forward to seeing you everyday from then on. i thought about you while you were away, when i was down… you don’t know how many bad days your smile got me through, so please, don’t cry.”

with a shaky breath, you nod, leaning into his palm that still cradles your face, “you’re so sweet, always have been. i’m sorry that i can’t feel that way about you,”

he presses his lips to your forehead and you wrap your arms around his torso. he responds by squeezing you back, voice quiet and shy by your ear, “I love you–a-and I know you can’t say it back,” he rushes to clarify, “i don’t expect you to. but, i need to say it to you once, and this might be my only chance. i’m gonna be a little selfish and take it.”

the sound you make is somewhere between a strangled sob and a giggle, and he pulls back slowly to look at you. maybe it’s because of the sudden closeness or his attraction to you, but his eyes flicker to your lips.

“could i maybe, o-one last—nevermind, i can’t ask that of you,” his stuttering is barely audible, something like an impulsive thought he caught just before it managed to slip out. his tone is sharp, scolding of himself for even beginning to say it out loud. still, you catch on to his request, and with one hand softly stroking the nape of his neck, you start leaning in.

when your lips first touch his, barely pressing into them, jeno pulls away in a bit of a panic, “you don’t have to-”

“i know. i want to.” his brow lifts when you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “you deserve to give me a kiss that doesn’t have a ten second time limit, or two other people in the room each waiting for a turn. your heart is so big,” you mumble, “i want you to have the chance to kiss me how you want,”

jeno silently kicks himself, because how could he ask you not to cry if his own eyes were beginning to burn?

ever so carefully, his lips hover over yours. he takes his time as he leans closer, wary, giving you ample time to change your mind. when you don’t pull away and instead raise your brow slightly, he gains a bit more confidence.

jeno presses a few soft, opened mouth kisses to your lips, squeezing his eyes tight as he savors his first real and final taste of you. his warm tongue swipes at your bottom lip, but it isn't insistent enough to invite you to deepen the kiss; he doesn’t intend it to be, either. It’s clear that he’s taking it slow.

you can tell the flow of this kiss is being heavily considered, timed to be perfectly tender and easy. his mouth feels smooth, working against yours with only a slight desperation. instinctively, your hand clutches his shoulder as you realize: this might’ve been the kiss he intended to give you that day during the first bet if hyuck hadn’t pressured him.

a kiss so deep and so gentle, where his emotions pour out in the tiny breaths that tickle your face. his fingers disappear into your hairline and massage your scalp, and you can feel his nose pressing deeply into your cheek as he pulls you closer, humming quietly. on that day where he seemed so nervous to have you so close, because of course, it wasn’t just a competition to him, jeno wasn’t able to put his all into kissing you, but right now, it felt like he couldn’t give you any more of himself without physically handing you his heart. at the thought, you sniffle mid-kiss and realize the saltiness you’re tasting is a mix of both of your tears.

as much as he wishes he could continue, he can’t allow himself to be too greedy because kissing you like this and not being able to have you after might just be too much for his fluttering heart to handle. he breaks away, eyes remaining closed as he breathes out. you blink open your eyes before he does. it’s your turn to wipe his cheeks.

“i’m sorry, jen.”

“no,” he clears his throat, “don’t be. and thanks for, well, this.” his hand squeezes yours once, then a second time, and the two of you sit wordlessly for a few moments as everything sinks in, the only sounds being the occasional snivel from either of you.

when you finally move to stretch your legs out you gasp, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above his dresser. he’s startled for a moment, watching you shoot up from your spot and rush over to wipe your face.

“jeno, why didn’t you tell me i looked like this?!” you squeak out, mascara blotted on and around your eyes. he kinda laughs at you, twisting around to watch your frantic motions in amusement. in seconds, he’s dug into a drawer and he’s handing you a pack of wipes, mumbling something about how he didn’t even notice, which earns him a glare. the tension seems to have eased at once following this interaction, and the mood is lighter as you slip into small talk. you finish swiping away the makeup from your face and when it’s clean, you check the time on your phone and place it on the dresser.

“You know the last time i made your makeup run, you definitely weren’t crying,”

“oh, god,” your face glows red and your hand makes contact with his shoulder, “how embarrassing!”

“sorry, sorry,” he grins timidly, shying away from your blow, “too soon.”

when your laughter dies down, you shoot him a grin.

“i should go soon. it’s getting dark,” he nods once. you swing your bag over your shoulder and head for the door, mumbling something about how the last time you left their place late you were too scared to walk from your parking garage to your apartment, when jeno grabs your forearm.

“wait!” you stop, “can i… can i ask you something?”

flipping around expectantly, you blink and he swallows thickly, as if already knew the answer and didn’t really wanna hear it. either way, the words tumble from his mouth quickly.

probably the most timid he’s sounded tonight, his voice is gravely and reserved when he asks, “is there something going on between you and mark?”

that was not at all what you were expecting him to say. in fact, it’s the one thing you were hoping wouldn’t come up at all today.

you didn’t want to bring up mark for various reasons: firstly, there’s a very fine line between letting jeno in on the detail that mark also likes you–and that you like him–and explaining that that’s why you two can’t be together, and having him think that in telling him, you’re asking for permission to date his best friend. that’s something you’re incapable of even implying, because how fucking heartless and selfish would that be? secondly, you hadn’t even talked to mark yet, and you didn’t even know if the two of them had already discussed it. lastly, this conversation was supposed to be about jeno, and his feelings– and you’d feel like shit if you made it about anybody else.

you can’t help the way your eyes widen at his question, however, and you immediately blurt out “what? no!”

nice. smooth.

jeno cocks a brow up and you inhale shakily, “i mean, not really… or, at least not anymore.” he cocks an eyebrow at you and you purse your lips, shrugging, “i guess… for a moment there almost was, but then-”

“then i confessed,” he nods in understanding. instantly, your eyes snap wide open and you hold an arm out.

“yes, but it’s fine jen, i think it’s better that we didn’t-”

“you don’t,” your shoulders fall as he sighs, reading you like a book, “you don’t think it’s better.” his eyes flicker between yours, but you don’t have it in you to even try and refute him.

“you know,” he starts, “i had a feeling but i wasn’t too sure ‘cause you guys have always been really close.”

“jeno…”

there’s a lingering moment of silence, and you almost fear the mood has become sour and tense once more. you can’t seem to find your voice, or any words for that matter, and jeno walks closer until he’s less than a few feet away. he looks like he’s deep in thought for a flashing second, before his shoulders relax and he speaks up.

“I think you should be together,” there’s no reluctance in his tone, no bitterness either, “not that you need my okay, because you don’t. but, if you’re worried about me, don’t be. i’ll be fine, I promise. besides, i’d hate to be the reason the two of you are forced to settle for a ‘what if.’”

“just um,” he continues and for the first time, he speaks meekly, “give me a bit of time to recover before you guys start rubbing your happiness all over me,”

oh.

speechless and gawking at him with wide eyes, it takes a long minute before you manage to muster up a reply. jeno could have changed his mind a dozen times over by then. your heart is beating noticeably faster, sitting in your throat like a lump.

“no,” you decide, “i can’t just do that to you.”

“it’s okay, y/n. i mean it. and thanks for coming by to talk abou-”

“no, no,” you shake your head, “you don’t get it, i can’t–i won't do that to you, it’s not fair,”

“I’d feel worse if you didn’t,” he admits, “like i’m keeping you from something. mark’s my best friend, so are you. what isn’t fair is keeping you guys from each other.” his eyes gleam sympathetically, and you blink a few times at him, “call him. talk to him, at least. he’s been down for a few days now. won’t come out of his room much while he’s home.”

you nod slowly, “okay, i’ll do that,”

“think about it, yeah?”

“jeno, get dressed!” hyuck’s voice comes as a bit of a surprise as he bellows, stomping down the hall and towards his room, passing by jeno’s on the way, “we’re going for drinks with renjun. can you believe that fucker thinks he can drink more than me? and jaemin agrees! man, you think you know a guy,” his voice is slightly muffled now that he’s in his room, but he’s still yelling out, “my pride is hurt, so hurry up! we’re leaving in 10,”

“besides, i’ve got hyuck to tend to. don’t know what he would do if my attention wasn’t on him all the time,”

you stifle a laugh and weakly suggest, “crash and burn. come on, walk me out?” and jeno gives you a wide smile.

“o‘course,”

⋆ ★

if looks could kill, the scowl on mark’s face would’ve been your demise. he’s staring at you from the doorway of his front door, just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

nothing about today has gone right. it wasn’t until you got home last night that you realized you had left your phone on jeno’s dresser and by that time, it was too late to go back. more than likely, he didn’t notice either, or he would’ve dropped it off before going out for drinks. so, naturally, you had to stop by today to get it back.

you barely had time to think things over in regards to mark; part of you insists should continue to avoid him until you figure shit out–which obviously isn’t a possibility anymore since he’s standing right in front of you–and another part, was left tossing and turning in bed until the early hours of the morning, worried that mark would call or text you about something important and you wouldn’t be able to answer.

that doesn’t matter now, anyway. mark is standing a foot away, eyes low and emotionless. he looks like he hasn’t had a proper sleep in days, and you don’t doubt that you look very different yourself.

you’re the first to speak, mumbling a small, “hi,” which makes his chest rise and fall in a long sigh at the familiar sound of your voice–a sound that he missed dearly.

“hi.”

“i-” you start to speak again, before you realize, you have no idea what to say.

are you supposed to apologize for dropping by unannounced or explain that the reason you couldn’t announce your visit was because you had left your phone here the day before? perhaps, he’s expecting an apology for the way you’ve been ignoring him, leaving him in the dark the last couple of days and refusing to reply to his many, many attempts to reach out. you’re not sure if he knew what happened yesterday, either. the point is: if all of these are things you need to say to him, which are you meant to say first?

mark blinks at you until you offer him a sad, lopsided smile and shyly ask, “can i come in?”

he doesn’t respond; instead, he brings a fist up to rub his tired eyes and moves aside to let you in.

“m’sorry,” you mumble, placing your bag down and slipping off your shoes. mark walks past you and sits on the couch a few feet away, brows slightly pinched down, “for a few things,” you mutter.

“i’m sorry, too,” he sighs, and you blink at him in surprise.

“for what?”

“for how i reacted the last time we were together. i couldn’t see things from your point of view until i really thought it through, and… you were right,” he admits defeatedly, voice hushed. “i’m also sorry for not being able to give you space when you asked for it. It’s just–you just mean a lot to me and the idea of you not wanting to talk to me really freaked me out.”

“mark,” you coo softly. your feet carry you over to sit beside him, scooting closer until the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, knees bumping. when your lips part, your voice is airy and quiet, “you mean so, so much to me. I’m glad you didn’t give me space, i would’ve thought you hated me or something,”

“i could never hate you,” he’s still looking at his lap, at the spot where his hands have come up to fidget mindlessly with his drawstrings.

“–and sorry for not replying. that was childish of me,”

mark lightly shakes his head, “no, dude, i get it.”

“–and i would’ve mentioned i was dropping by, but i left my phone in jeno’s room after i came yesterday-“

“it’s fine, really—wait, you were here yesterday? with jeno?” his head snaps up.

“yeah, last night around seven.”

“you were in his room?”

“yes?”

mark scoffs, a puff of air leaving his lips sharply.

truly, mark didn’t mean to scoff. he meant to ask you “oh, how come?” or “hey, why you didn’t tell me?” but his questions are answered by his subconscious, and he’s not sure he liked what it had to say. he’d really like to think you didn’t come to—no. you wouldn’t… right?

before he can add anything else, your expression twists into one of offense.

“it wasn’t like that, mark.” you snap and he scoffs, again.

“right, i’m sure it wasn’t.”

instantly, you shoot up from your seat, arms crossing defensively, “it wasn’t,” you stress. mark runs a hand through his hair, huffing discontentedly, and you blink at him, “i just came to talk to him.”

“before talking to me? i’m your best friend,” he replies.

“yeah, but you’re not the one who had their feelings completely shot down,”

mark stands to his full height, too, an incredulous look in his eyes, “oh, i’m not? he told you he liked you and you immediately changed your mind about us!”

“that didn’t change my mind about us, mark. but honestly? this might,” you gesture between the two of you and spin on your heel to start making your way down the hall, “forget it. i’ll just get my phone and go,”

with a huff, mark shoots up.

“y/n,” he calls, but you ignore him. when you reach jeno’s bedroom door, you push it open and snatch your phone from the dresser. it was still in the very same spot you left it in, meaning hyuck probably dragged jeno out in a hurry. jeno also wasn’t here, which you were very grateful for right about now… it would have very been awkward to barge into his room if he was.

you make a move to leave, but mark is hot on your trail, and when you turn back around, you almost bump right into his chest, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-” he tries, but you cut him off.

“do you really think i’d do that to you? tell me, honestly.”

“i don’t,” he answers quickly. at the sight of tears pooling in your eyes, mark winces, and his arms wrap around you. you consider fighting his grip, but the truth is, you didn’t really want to.

“i’m sorry, i’m so, so sorry,” he chants into your hair, holding you tightly against him, “i was just upset that you didn’t come to me first, but i swear didn’t mean any of that. don’t even know why i said it, fuck.”

your voice is no louder than a muffled squeak, “i just–i came to tell him i was sorry and that i didn’t feel the same way.”

mark’s breathing calms, and he squeezes you a bit tighter.

“he asked about you, you know, about us. wanted to know if we were a thing,”

“what did you say?” he asks gently, curiously, as to not come off any more accusatory than he already has.

you pull back to look up at him and sniffle, “that we almost were, or that we would’ve been if–anyway, he said he was okay with us being together. and i was going to tell you,” you stress, “i just wanted to wait until all the tension died down; until after we talked and he had a chance to move on. I didn’t think our talk would go like this, though”

as you finish speaking, mark presses his lips deeply into your forehead, repeating his apology softly. they linger there for a moment before he replaces them with his nose. he then leans down to press his forehead against yours, although he doesn’t move to take anything further.

the tears that coat your eyelashes and stick them together make his heart clench within the confines of his ribs. he decides just then that the sight of you crying is his least favorite one.

both of his hands hold your cheeks, inviting you to look up and into his eyes, “i need you to know that the most important thing to me, like, ever, is you. I know i haven’t done a great job of making that clear today,” he whispers, “but whatever you decide you want to do, and however slowly you wanna do it, i’m there.”

and then, you utter out the last set of words he thought he would be hearing from you in this moment.

“i want to be with you,” at first, he thinks he may have misheard you, but when you nuzzle your cheek into his open palm and grab at his shirt to tug him closer, his breath hitches.

“what?”

“i still want to be with you,” you repeat, a little quieter this time. the tips of your ears have gone hot, “if you want to, i mean,”

“i do,” he replies quickly, nodding, “i do, of course i do.”

he lets his thumb brush your cheek, eyes dropping to your lips, they fly back to yours in a flash for any bit of hesitation, but he finds none.

slowly, he leans in, and the very moment his lips take their place against yours, the tension in your shoulders dissipates. your knees buck, but he’s quick to slide an arm around your waist and hold you up. when his chest presses to yours, he wonders if you can feel his heart pounding. what he doesn’t know, is that you’re thinking the very same thing.

your hands slip under his shirt, wandering along the expanse of his lower back. his skin is warm under your touch, and he can’t hold back the hum he feeds your parted lips when your nails dig their little crescent moons into him.

“mark,” you whimper, but he doesn’t break the kiss even for a moment. he’d literally rather die.

what he does do, is lean so far into your touch that the two of you stumble back into the wall, where his hand comes up to hold your head to block the impact.

“let’s-mmm,” he kisses you again, lips smacking loudly against yours, “t’your…room,”

He slightly nods to let you know he understood, “yeah,”

the two of you spin around until it’s you who’s slightly guiding him in the direction of his bedroom. when he hits the door, he reaches an arm back for the doorknob and twists it open, all but pulling you inside. and, finally, the two of you break apart for air, chests heaving wildly and pupils blown completely wide.

he’s a pretty sight, gazing at you sweetly with heavy lids. a bit of spit hangs behind on the corner of mark’s mouth and you laugh softly, stealing another kiss and using your thumb to wipe it away. you let your hand stay there, pressed right against his warm cheek, and mark squeezes your hip.

“i love you,” he utters suddenly.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he nods.

“me, too. i love you, so much,” you reply, and his eyes disappear as he grins so wide that his nose scrunches up. his cheeks start flushing red and he dives down to hide his face in your neck. while his laughter tickles, it’s nowhere near the sensation of the kisses he leaves behind, wet and trailing along your shoulder and chest. you gasp softly when his teeth graze you and he pulls back.

“yo,” a small hum leaves your lips in reply and he shakes his head slightly, “i think you’ve gotta be the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen,”

he kisses you again before you manage to respond to his compliment, walking with you until the back of your knees hits the edge of his bed. when you sit down and scoot back, mark settles between your legs, using his hand to hike your right leg up and around his waist.

“take this off,” you mumble, tugging until the white shirt he wears is up and over his head. mark wastes no time in peeling your top off, too, large hands grabbing a hold of your hip and waist and breasts, all the while his mouth attaches to your skin. here, he stays for a bit, licking and nibbling as he pleases.

there’s a warmth between your legs now, all of your nerves tingling as you lift your hips, hoping you’ll brush yourself against his front or his thigh. there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ve soaked through your panties.

“i can’t believe i have you all to myself now, fuck,”

“mark,”

“yes?”

“please..”

“please what, baby?” he coos, lifting his head up. behind, he leaves a purple mark on the part of your breast that pudges out of the cup of your bra.

the sight makes you drool, “i need you, please. do something, anything,” nothing about your actions implies you have even a slight bit of patience left, and this doesn’t go unnoticed.

mark is gawking at you, lip tucked between his teeth harshly. he considers teasing you a bit more, but your pretty eyes that plead with him are too hard to not appease.

it’s short and sweet, the way he smiles and lands his lips on your cheek with a pop. at the same time, his hips meet yours, pulling a strangled moan from your throat. you claw at his shoulders, looking down to watch the way he rolls into you, dick swollen and bulging under the constraint of his pants.

every inch of him presses onto you, your legs sneakily wrapping tighter around him. mark grunts and cups your jaw, pulling your mouth open slightly.

“stick your tongue out for me,” he instructs.

when your eyes blink up at him curiously and your tongue sticks out, mark smirks, letting the spit he’s accumulated drop. the free hand that was previously wandering unhooks the top button of your bottoms, slipping inside to cup your heat.

somehow, it’s still not nearly enough. every touch makes you jolt in desperation, writhing beneath his hold. mark lets his lips mold over yours again, freely exploring your mouth, his middle finger continuously running over your underwear to feel your arousal.

“so wet,” he says against your lips. you nod eagerly, grinding into his hand.

“all for you, baby,”

“you want my mouth? or my fingers? tell me how you want me,”

when you shake your head, mark leans further back, confused, “baby,” you plead, “no foreplay, i need you inside of me so bad,”

“i need to prep you, doll,”

“i’m already so worked up, look,” you insist, shimmying your shorts down. you grab his hand and move your underwear aside, pressing his fingers into you so that he can feel for himself.

“shit… you’re dripping,”

“please,” you whine out.

“are you sure?”

“mark, yes. i’m literally begging you to fuck me.”

“okay,” he laughs, “so needy, pretty girl,” a sloppy kiss is placed over your lips as he pulls off his joggers and underwear, your panties practically yanked off. you make quick work of your bra, unclipping it and tossing it aside. when his attention is back on you, his gaze falls to your chest in admiration.

“you’re perfect, all for me. all mine, baby.” he brushes your hair behind your ear and reminds you, “ i love you,”

“i love you, but please, please,”

with a breathy laugh, mark lines himself up with your entrance. his thumb guides the head of his cock down until he’s collected some of your slick, a task that proves slightly difficult with your restless squirming.

he’s about to order you to stay still when he presses into you and momentarily forgets how to speak. a shiver goes down his spine, and his eyes roll back at the feeling of sinking into your walls.

you moan out loudly and mark hisses, desperately trying not to finish early.

the stretch doesn’t even hurt as much as you thought it would, but it does take some adjusting on both ends–you’re fluttering around him helplessly, sensitive and susceptible to his every move; meanwhile, mark’s tip continues slipping out and bumping your clit, before he manages to push himself back in.

“mmph, baby, you’re pushing me out,”

“m’sorry,” you pant, “can’t help it,”

he manages to bottom out as you pull your knees to your chest. intrigued by your position, he grabs your calves to settle them over his shoulders, pushing you into a sort of mating press, one where he can still look down to where your bodies meet. it’s fucking dirty, the way you’re practically leaking, juices flowing down your ass and gathering on his sheets.

with another experimental thrust, your pussy squelches and tightens around him. mark grunts out mindlessly, “i could fuck you forever,” and you nod, agreeing.

with every slow roll of his hips, your breathing grows more shallow. the angle he’s fucking you in is absolutely insane. there’s no containing the whimpers that fall from your lips when his fingers find your clit, rubbing slow circles on your sensitive bud.

“more, g-go faster, i can take it,”

he obliges immediately, rocking into you harder, and you realize how close you’ve actually been this whole time. you’re so turned on from the mere intimacy of this moment that in seconds, your jaw has gone slack, pleasure coursing through your body until it numbs your fingertips.

your mind is blank, and all you can manage to blabber are a few weak and strained chants of his name, followed by a string of praises and “i love you’s.”

mark’s orgasm follows soon after, despite the way he tries so hard to hold it off. he tries to bite your leg as a distraction, or pinch your pointed nipple, anything to try to prolong the moment and work you until you’re pleasantly overstimulated, but it’s too late, because his breath has gotten caught in his throat.

his thrusts begin stuttering, his eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s coming so, so hard that his fingers are turning white where they grip your waist.

if he prepped you, he might have lasted just a tad longer, but he didn’t. mark knew he was done for the moment he entered you and you clenched around him.

“fuck yes, take it, baby, take it,” his cum shoots out in spurts within your folds and and he stops holding himself up, burrying himself all the way in your cunt, dick twitching uncontrollably.

“you’re unbelievable,” he praises, working to steady the pace of his breathing.

a lazy grin finds your swollen lips, “that was really good,” you mutter, tiredly looking up at him through glossed over eyes.

as he moves to lean back, you make a noise of complaint, but he’s quick to soothe you.

“shh, don’t worry. i’m only making sure you’re comfortable,” he brings your legs down from his shoulders so they can rest at his sides, and the ache you feel instantly be relieved makes you very grateful for his consideration. he doesn’t dare pull out, though, basking in your warmth until he’s gone completely soft.

“you’re mine, yeah?”

“yes, baby,” you agree contently, tucking back a few strands of his hair so they don’t fall in his eyes, which bore at yours so tenderly.

“alright,” he kisses you, “and i’m yours,”

ੈ♡˳

a/n: sorry it was a few minutes late. thank you to everyone who has supported this series. i hope you found it worthwhile <3 sidenote: if theres any mistakes pls forgive me omfg

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 11 months ago

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Ok. I have a request took me a lot of courage to finally request and shat myself a couple times but anyway! A one shot where choso lives in y/ns dorm with them and he was like doing his hair and kept messing up and gave up and started crying (I FEEL LIKE THATS SOMETHING HED DO THE POOR BOY:() thennnn y/n walks in their dorm and sees him crying and then comforts him and does his hair for him!!

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!

synopsis// choso is having an off day.

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 1.4k

contents// frustrated/sad choso? idk just some hurt/comfort in a way! fluff?? could be read as either platonic or romantic doesnt really matter i supposeeee? i think it kinda reads more romantic tho

notes// anon ur actual fucking MIND. i was moved. literally right after reading ur request i opened up my notes and went to fucking WORKKK!!!! anyway sorry its so kinda all over the place but i hope u like it and it lived up to ur expectations!! n also sorry to everyone else for posting a oneshot mid smau its short n cute okay (AND ITS FUCKING CHOSO SO LIKE CMON???) i couldnt help myself !! also the title is lyrics from cupid's chokehold by gym class heroes... okay bye!

Sharing a dorm with Choso was heavenly.

Because of your conflicting schedules, half the time, you rarely actually saw each other. But even when you did, he was the type of roommate to keep to himself; he has his side of the room, and you have yours. Of course, you two talked here and there; he was actually pretty nice company whenever you two were actually in the room at the same time. But more often than not, the only time you would see him was late at night when you were just getting in to go to sleep.

Either way, the point is, you never really saw him around much. Choso was always quick and effective, so by the time you would head back to your dorm after a few of your classes, he would just be heading out or have already left.

Usually, his alarm would go off an hour before his classes, which is ample time for him. He’s done his routine hundreds of times before—doing his hair and eyeliner is practically muscle memory, and at this point he's sure he could do it in his sleep. but not today, apparently. Today his alarm goes off late—half an hour late. Which Choso isn’t panicked by, only slightly frustrated, but it's fine. That still leaves him another half an hour to get ready, so there's still plenty of time given that it only takes him 10–15 minutes to get ready, so it's fine. Everything is fine; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, like if he thinks it and says it enough, he’ll actually believe it.

Choso quickly dresses, then sits at his desk, where a little mirror sits. He sighs as he flips on a lamp and grabs his eyeliner. He doesn’t even have to think about it, instinctively taking the cap off and bringing it to his eye, only for it to crumble as it meets his waterline. Choso cusses under his breath as he blinks, attempting to get whatever fell into his eye out. When that doesn't work, he rubs his eye, only for it to spread eyeliner all across his eye and cheek. He groans, grabbing a cloth to wipe it off with, and once his face is clean, he doesn't even bother trying with his eyeliner again—looking at the time, he’s already wasted more than he wanted doing that. He’ll just do his hair and leave, or else he’ll be late.

Choso stills for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try and calm the nerves and frustration simmering beneath his skin—it's fine. He nods. Now somewhat calmer, he grabs his hair ties and gets to work… only for one of them to break as he’s trying to put his hair through it. Choso stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and swallowing harshly, as he desperately tries to ignore the rising heat going to his cheeks.

Whatever.

It's fine.

He’ll just do the other side of his hair...only for the same thing to happen. Choso can actively feel his heart racing—it's pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears—and he’s already too far gone to notice or even stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t really know why he’s actually crying, if he’s being honest. It’s not like this is the end of the world; he knows that, yet he can't stop himself. Too many things have gone wrong, and he’s barely woken up. First, his alarm goes off late, which isn't the most horrible thing within itself, but then his eyeliner crumbles and gets in his eye, and when he tries to wipe it away, it instead smears on his face. Then he rubs his face raw, trying to get it off, and now he can't do his fucking hair because his hair ties suddenly decided to disintegrate and snap in half.

He messily wipes at his tears and tries inhaling deeply for air in a feeble attempt to calm himself the tiniest bit down. It doesn't do anything. In fact, it makes things worse. His tears fall harder, and he’s choking in shallow breaths of air. If anyone walked in right this moment, they’d think something horrible happened, like one of his brothers died. and it's just his luck, or a very obvious lack thereof, when you walk in. Choso immediately starts scrambling to wipe his tears away and hide his face from you as you drop your things in shock—you hadn’t expected him to still be in the dorm, let alone be here crying.

“Holy shit, Choso, are you okay? What's wrong? Did something happen?” You panic, immediately running to his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just takes in and lets out shaky breaths as he shakes his head, one arm outstretched to keep you at arm's length.

You frown and look around. For what? You’re not sure. Part of you thinks if you look hard enough, you'll find why he’s crying, but all you see are snapped hair ties, a crumbled, unsharpened eyeliner pencil, and a cloth full of eyeliner. That’s when it all starts to make sense. You smile softly at him, who's still hiding his red tear-stained face from you, before you grab his comb and a new pair of hair ties from his desk.

Choso doesn’t know what you're doing when he hears you shuffling around, and he refuses to meet your gaze, filled to the brim with embarrassment at having been caught crying, but his head involuntarily snaps up, looking at you through the mirror, when he feels you start to brush his hair. You're already staring back at him and flashing him a warm smile, not saying a word as you continue to detangle his hair.

“You don't have to do this,” he sniffles, finally calming down enough to say something.

"I know I don't," you shrug. "But I also know it sucks when it seems like nothing is working or going to plan, so..."

"I can do it myself-“

"Choso, just let me do this for you, please.”

He stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to find something, and when he finds nothing but your soft eyes and willingness—your desire—to do this for him, he sighs and nods. You beam and gleefully get back to work on his hair, and Choso finds that he’s no longer embarrassed by being seen crying but rather by the fact he feels like a doll—but the worst part? It's kind of nice.

He likes having someone do this for him with no hesitation; he likes the way your fingers carefully rake through his hair to ensure there's no tangles even though you just combed it; he likes the way you don't tie the ponytails too tight like he usually does, which only results in a pounding headache he can't get rid of; he likes all of it.

He likes all of it so much so that he finds himself closing his eyes in complete bliss, drowning in your gentle touches. You poof up one of his ponytails a bit, ready to tell him you're done, when you look into the mirror and notice his eyes closed, looking like he’s in a whole other world. You can't fight your smile off as you play with his ponytail for a bit longer before slowly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You whisper, your breath softly fanning against his ear.

Choso opens his eyes, surprised to see you pretty much hugging him from behind, yet he doesn't hate it, not one bit. Too caught up about how much he does not hate this; he doesn't respond, and it makes you nervous.

“Sorry… I know they don't look exactly like how you usually do them, but-“

"No, no,” he cuts you off quickly. “They look amazing... Thank you, y/n...”

You smile, happy with his answer, as you untangle yourself from him and stand up. “You should head out now, Choso; you're late.”

He blinks, totally forgetting about class, and hurriedly stands up. "Right, thank you again,” is all he’s saying before rushing out the door.

You giggle slightly before yawning and making your way to your bed, ready for your usual nap, when Choso comes rushing back into the dorm again. You stare at him wide-eyed, and he simply stares back.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and are about to ask if he's okay when suddenly he blurts out:

"I wouldn’t mind if you did my hair again.”

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 months ago

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Any fics where Stiles and Lydia are siblings? I've tried finding some but it's only vaguely mentioned and never talked about after that so I was wondering if you had or could find any fics where it focuses on that more

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

back again (for the first time) but hot_damn_louis (6/6 | 73,083 | Teen | Sterek) “There was a—” Stiles shook his head, unable to believe it himself, “— a ghost.”

It had been years since Stiles had seen a ghost with his own two eyes, and not through a fancy camera or on pictures. He saw it, the column of light, at the end of his bed. If he wasn’t frozen, scared to even move, he might have been able to stretch his leg out and kick it. He was that close to it.

aka Stiles is house sitting with his sister Lydia for the summer on a farm in the middle of a ranch in Texas. And even though he's a retired ghost hunter, the rumors of the Mad Monk ghost on the Hale ranch are too enticing to stay away from.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan (1/1 | 42,525 | Explicit | Sterek) “He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.

“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.

“What? No,” Derek growled.

“Was he hot?”

“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

Better Fortunes by SmallBirds (1/1 | 39,618 | Not Rated | Sterek) When a group of sinister men attempt to kidnap Stiles Stilinski from the Brooklyn apartment he shares with his stepsister, Lydia, Stiles is forced to activate a spell that translocates him to where he'll be safest.

Derek Hale isn't sure what to do about the soaking wet young man he finds wandering down a Beacon County roadside during the middle of a thunderstorm, but he feels compelled to help him. There's something about Stiles that Derek finds fascinating, and before long the two become embroiled in each other's lives.

Despite the threat to his life and the sudden upheaval of everything he's ever known, Stiles is having a hard time feeling too upset about that.

Studying the Blade by never_love_a_wild_thing (10/10 | 16,420 | Teen | Sterek) Figure Skater Derek Hale is going to the Olympics for the last time. Age and an old injury are finally starting to get the better of him, but a number of fresh faces on Team USA, or maybe one face in particular are enough to keep him going.

Stiles Stilinski and his sister Lydia are going to the Olympics for the first time. Between nerves and drama, he's worried that they may be in over their heads, but a veteran skater reluctantly takes them under his wing.

In other words: leave it to Sterek to fall in love in the middle of the Olympic Games.

Memories by idratherwrite (1/1 | 15,739 | Teen | Sterek & Lydia/Jackson) AKA, Lifestyles of the Rich and Oblivious

Rich cousins Derek and Jackson are ready to spend a summer sailing across the Mediterranean. Rich step-siblings Stiles and Lydia are planning to have a great summer traveling Europe on their yacht. Nothing goes as planned, but it gives Lydia and Jackson (and Theo, and Meredith) the perfect excuse to play some matchmaking.

I Need A Hero by sapphireginger (1/1 | 9,501 | Explicit | Steo) Stiles Stilinski and Theo Raeken have been together for almost four years. They're mates but something happens that causes everything to implode. They're no longer together. Why?

Political Animals by FiccinDylan (1/1 | 8,109 | Teen | Sterek) It's the worst day in Stiles' life and the last thing he wants is to deal with Derek Hale's bullshit.

Derek feels pretty much the same.

Red by ZainClaw (1/1 | 4,371 | Mature | Sterek) They’re close now, only a few feet between them, and Stiles can already feel the heat coming off the werewolf’s body. He smells like the forest, a layer of the wilderness forever etched into his skin. Stiles is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, the sound of his pumping heart maddening in his ears as he moves even closer. Desperate to close the final distance between them.

“If you try anything,” the alpha warns him, “I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stiles laughs drily, tilting his head to the side.

“Likewise.”

Man of Honor by Inell (1/1 | 3,454 | Teen | Stiles/Derek/Kira) When Stiles attends Lydia’s wedding, he doesn’t expect to meet two people who are perfect for him. He definitely doesn’t expect them to suggest an unorthodox solution to the dilemma, either.

the odds are in your favor by elisela (1/1 | 1,739 | Teen | Lydia/Parrish) “He was jogging,” she says morosely a week later, kicking her heels off at the door and sinking into the couch after depositing the bag of takeout on the table. “Shirtless. There was sweat.”

“Shoulda licked it,” Stiles says. There’s a movie on the television, something she doesn’t know or care about, and he shoots her a dirty look when she grabs the remote and changes the channel. “Christ, not this again.”

#teen wolf #sterek #lydia martin #stiles stilinski #derek hale #anon

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inthe-dark-tonight · 6 months ago

Text

Falling Into My Sins

chapter six: i wanna be the one

dbf!joel x fem!reader series - loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 7

summary: joel tries to keep you off his mind while he has the house to himself on a friday night, until tommy shows up after your second date.

word count: 3.8k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: joel’s pov, alcohol consumption, joel jerks it, mentions of blood/cleaning a wound, jealous!joel, tommy boasting a little bit

notes: well…… long time no see…. sorry for the extremely long wait on this chapter, life has been insane :,) special thanks to my tumblr mom @pr0ximamidnight for reading this chapter for me, ilysm you have no idea <3 i also hit a new follower milestone a little bit ago so thank you to everyone who follows & reads/interacts with any of my fics it means the world to me, truly 🤍 enjoy and let me know what you think of this chapter!!

It’s ten of eight and Tommy will be here any minute to pick you up. You spent all day wondering where he was planning to take you, and when you asked all he told you was to wear something nice. You check your bag one last time before leaving your room, glancing at your messages to see if Tommy texted you but all you see is an unread message from Joel this morning that reads Hey, I’ll be home tonight if you wanna stop by, i’d still really like to talk.

After staring at it for a moment, you shove your phone into your bag, closing your bedroom door behind you and heading down the stairs. Your dads not home tonight, which meant you thankfully wouldn’t be questioned about your date. When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you decide to wait on the porch for Tommy to get here. As you reach for the door knob and tug the door open, a gust of cool air pushes the door towards you, revealing a surprised Tommy standing there with his hand raised like he was about to knock on the door.

“Oh,” he says in a surprised tone. “Was just about to knock.” He lets out a small laugh.

Your cheeks heat up a little in embarrassment. “Sorry.” You let out a small laugh as well, smiling up at him.

As you step out, pulling the door shut behind you, Tommy’s eyes are glued to you. He clears his throat. “You look great.” he pauses for a moment. “I mean you always look great but-” he cuts himself off with a nervous laugh as he waits for your response.

Your cheeks warm up slightly at his words. “Thank you.” your eyes fall to the ground as you step off your front porch and start towards Tommy's truck.

Tommy walks beside you, hand lightly resting on your lower back to guide you as the two of you near the car. He moves his hand from your back as he reaches out to grab the door and you smile at him as he watches you step in and gently closes the door. You watch him, a small smile still on your face as you watch him round the front of the car and step in before taking off towards downtown.

Joel has the house to himself for once, which is quite rare for a Friday night. Sarah is staying over at a friend's house and normally Tommy would stop by for a beer or two, but he hasn't tonight, leaving Joel to finish a six pack on his own as his mind wanders. When he's working or around people, usually other women, he does a pretty good job at suppressing any thoughts of you, but when he's on his own there's no stopping his mind from drifting to thoughts of you.

Since even before the last time Joel saw you he had told himself he would stop seeing other women, he hadn't slept with any of them, only taken them out to try and keep his mind off you. But now he knew there was no use in trying to stop the way he was feeling, he needed to talk to you and tell you all of this, but you're impossible to get a hold of. He knows it's because of the way he's been acting, and rightfully so. The way he lied, telling you it was noting more than a fuck, showing up on dates with other women in front of you, it was all in an attempt to try and ignore the attraction he felt towards you.

Joel takes one last swig of beer, finishing the bottle off before setting it on the wooden coffee table in front of him and looking at the time, nine twenty. He lets out a sigh, standing up from his place on the couch and grabbing the cardboard pack full of empty bottles from the table. Once he starts walking towards the kitchen to discard the bottles his head feels a bit fuzzy, the effects of the alcohol finally setting in.

He walks slowly towards the stairs, holding onto the railing the whole way up and walking immediately towards his bathroom, leaving the door open a crack before turning on the shower. As the water warms up and steam slowly starts to fill the room, he unbuttons his jeans quickly removing them before placing a hand on the counter for support as his head continues to spin, flashes of you appearing when he closes his eyes. The way you looked the night the two of you first met, skin glistening and glowing under the colorful lights in the club as you swayed your hips enticingly. He can still remember so clearly the way that the heat of your body felt pressed up against him, how warm your skin was as he let his hands wander, the way your soft plush lips moved so naturally with his own.

Before Joel can stop it, he begins to feel a heat creeping up his chest and a stiffness growing in his boxers. A low grunt leaves his mouth as he looks down at himself. Damnit. He looks back at his reflection in the foggy mirror, broad shoulders slumped over and tired eyes staring back at himself as he lifts his hand to swipe over the condensation on the mirror. How much longer can he keep doing this? Jerking off to the thought of you at least once a week. How much longer can he go without touching your skin with his own hands? His imagination can only keep his desires at bay for so long.

“Fuck.” he exhales. This isn't helping.

Joel pushes himself off the counter and grabs the back of his shirt, pulling it up over his head in one swift motion and discarding it on the floor before carefully slipping out of his boxers. He groans as he pulls the fabric over his now fully hard cock and lets them fall to the floor. As he steps out of where they are pooled around his feet and towards the hot shower, he lets out a deep sigh before pulling back the shower and stepping into the thick steam.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as the hot water beats down onto his throbbing cock before turning his back towards the running water. For a moment he stands there, eyes closed as he takes a few deep breaths trying to rid the thoughts running through his mind, head still spinning from the six pack he polished off. When he opens his eyes, they fall back down to where is cock is springing up towards the sparse hairs trailing to his belly button. He swallows thickly before reaching down to wrap his large hand around the thick base of his cock, closing his eyes and letting out a groan as he lightly squeezes. For a moment he stays still, trying to collect himself before he goes any further.

“God, this is so fuckin’ pathetic.” he grumbles to himself as he throws his head back.

He takes a deep breath, planting his free hand on the shower wall to brace himself as he looks back down at where his hand is wrapped around his painfully stiff cock. A shaky breath leaves his lips as he closes his eyes, images of you immediately appearing behind his closed lids. His hand moves slowly up his shaft, the warm water acting as a lubricant as he begins to lazily pump his fist. Your lips, your eyes, your skin, he thinks about when he bumped into you at the restaurant the other night, how soft your skin was under his rough hands when he stopped you from crashing into him. The scent of you has been lingering around him ever since that night, unable to clear it from his senses.

He starts to pick up his pace, giving a slight squeeze with each pump of his fist. The heat in his stomach is starting to build as he now imagines you on your knees in front of him, the way your soft lips would look wrapped around him as you take every inch. His mouth falls open and a low whine escapes him, he squeezes his eyes shut as the vision of how you would look peering up at him with your pretty eyes as he stuffs his cock into your mouth plays in his head. Your voice replays in his head, saying his name over and over so smoothly as his climax grows closer.

To tell the truth, he would do anything to have you actually here with him now. He would quit all this teasing and messing around once and for all if it meant he could finally taste you, and oh how he's been dying to taste you. Dreaming about it, fantasizing about how sweet your pretty pussy must taste, dying to sink into it. He swears he can hear the pretty moans leaving your mouth, feel your soft skin under the palms of his hands as he imagines them roaming your body. The image of you lying on his bed, back arched, moaning his name as you buck your hips into his mouth sends him over the edge.

A deep groan leaves Joel's mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he paints the shower wall. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply as he stands up straight and begins to gather himself. His head falls back and he lets out a sigh as he opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling, thoughts still racing. As he turns to face the shower head, he wonders what you're up to tonight. A knot begins to form in his stomach at the possibilities, but he shakes it off, ducking to put his head under the shower stream and running his hands over his face.

He stays standing under the water for a minute or two, giving himself a moment to come down from the high of his orgasm before washing his hair and cleaning himself up. After shutting off the water he pulls back the shower curtain and reaches out to grab his towel, stepping out of the shower. He lets out a content sigh as he dries himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist and pushing back his still dripping wet hair from his forehead. Quickly picking up his dirty clothing from the floor, he heads back into his room tossing them in his hamper before digging through his dresser for sweats and a t-shirt.

Just as he finishes changing, he hears his front door open. “Joel!” Tommy yells out.

Joel rolls his eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. “Well that didn’t last long.” He grumbles to himself as he slowly opens his bedroom door and walks towards the stairs.

“Joel! You home?” Tommy calls out again.

Joel lets out a sigh. “Yeah!” He finally answers as he quickly goes down the stairs, walking into the kitchen to see Tommy leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Got the place to yourself tonight, huh?” Tommy asks as Joel walks past him into the kitchen, heading towards the sink. He raises his eyebrows in annoyance once his back is to Tommy.

“Yup.” Until you showed up, he thinks to himself.

“Surprised you don’t have a girl over, or a date planned for that matter.” Joel tries not to let Tommy’s comment get to him as he turns on the sink, allowing the water a few seconds to warm up before he does the dishes.

Tommy laughs and Joel lets out a sigh, thoughts of you entering his mind again. He picks up a sponge, covering it in a small dollop of soap before grabbing a dirty plate from the sink. You’ve seen him the past couple of times he was on a date with someone and he wonders how you feel about it. Were you upset afterwards? He knew you were angry the night you saw him at the diner after a date, but how much did it really bother you? He needs to know. Joel hears Tommy's voice and snaps out of his thoughts.

“Speaking of dates,” Tommy clears his throat, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sitting down before he continues on. “I just got back from one.”

Joel’s not so interested in hearing about another one of Tommy's flings at this moment, but he’s too tired to tell him so. “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky lady this time?” A small smirk grows on Joel's face as he prepares to hear his brother go on about his new girl.

Joel freezes, heart sinking down into his stomach when he hears your name leave Tommy’s mouth, not wanting to believe it. The two of them sit silent for a few moments, only the sound of the running water from the sink filling the room. His blood starts to boil, muscles tensing up as his hands still, a glass in one, sponge in the other. A low ringing starts to play through Joel's ears and he tries to gather himself.

Tommy finally breaks the silence. “Actually just dropped her off before heading over here.”

“Hm.” Joel nods his head as he tries to think of more to say. “Where did you two go?” Joel tries to keep his voice steady as he speaks, visions of you out with his brother, sitting in his passenger seat racing through his brain as he continues to scrub away at the dish in his hands. He doesn't really want to know the answer, but he needs to know. How serious could this thing really be?

“Just a little place downtown, had dinner and a few drinks then went for a walk.” As Tommy speaks, Joel's imagining the scene in his head.

What did you wear? Did you laugh at his jokes, throwing your head back as your eyes fall shut, lips turning up to reveal your beautiful smile. He doesn't want to imagine you with anyone else, let alone his little brother.

“Mmm.” Joel hums in response, not sure what else he can say or if he can even keep himself calm enough to come up with something.

“I think I’m really into her,” Tommy lets out a small laugh, shaking his head back and forth slightly. “Which hasn't happened in awhile.” Joel feels sick at the words that just left his brother's mouth.

Joel rinses the dish he was scrubbing and sets it into the drying rack next to the sink before picking up another dirty dish. He grabs the dish soap and notices his hand is shaking slightly as he goes to squeeze the bottle. Fuck. What seems like half the bottle comes flying out when he squeezes. This can't be happening, he thinks to himself.

“I know she's a little young but, there's something there.” Even with his back to him, Joel can hear the smile in Tommy's voice. “Our second kiss just, it felt like this could really be something.”

Joel drops the soapy wet plate into the sink, causing him to flinch and Tommy rises from his chair. He thinks his heart could stop right this second at the image of you kissing his brother, again. As if once wasn't bad enough.

“You okay?” Tommy says, walking towards Joel.

“Yeah, yeah just,” Joel’s voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Pretty tired, it's been a long day.” He picks up the plate from the bottom of the sink, rinsing it off and setting it next to the others on the drying rack.

“Well, I'm gonna get going. I’ll call you tomorrow?” Joel can hear Tommy’s footsteps as he backs out of the kitchen, but he doesn’t turn around to look at his brother.

“Sounds good.” he nods his head, continuing his task.

Joel listens to the sound of Tommy walking towards the front door, opening and closing it behind him. Then it's silent. Just Joel and his thoughts. He zones out, staring out the window over the sink into the pitch black, still feeling a bit fuzzy from the drinks he had earlier. His eyes focus for just a second on his reflection in the glass.

You and his little brother. He knew you two had gone out together once, he was with you two at the bar, not thinking it was actually anything serious. And he did see you kiss his brother that same night, but Joel just assumed it was to get under his skin, which worked. Now though, this was more than just something casual. He needs to find a way to talk to you, soon. Before it's too late.

He can't shake the images of the two of you from his head. Imagining the way you would’ve looked under the moonlight as you strolled the streets after dinner, breeze gently blowing as you walked hand in hand. He imagines himself there with you instead of his brother. Driving you home, stealing glances at you as you sit beside him in the passenger seat looking out the window as music plays softly through the radio. Walking you up the steps to your front door, pulling you into him and placing a gentle kiss on your lips before watching you go inside and walking to his car.

Except it wasn’t him. It was his fucking brother walking hand in hand with you and kissing you as he dropped you off at the end of the night.

“God damnit!” Joel yells out, the glass in his hand shattering.

His heart is racing as he looks down at his hand, a few small cuts scattering across his palm. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he was squeezing it that tightly. For a moment he stands there, staring down at his palm and the red covered broken glass lying in the sink. The water is still running and he moves his hand to run beneath it, rinsing the blood from his hand and covering the sink in a red tint. His breathing starts to slow as he fully snaps back into reality, the sting of the cuts starts to sink in and he sucks in a breath, quickly pulling his hand away from the running water.

“Great.” he mumbles to himself, shutting the water off and walking towards the drawer in the kitchen where he keeps a few bandaids and gauze.

He grabs the roll of gauze with his good hand and walks back upstairs towards his bathroom. He’ll deal with the broken glass tomorrow morning before Sarah gets home, right now all he wants to do is sleep. When he gets back upstairs, he rummages around the cabinet under his sink, looking for the bottle of rubbing alcohol that's somewhere down there, grabbing some cotton balls while he's at it.

Before sitting down on his toilet seat to wrap his hand, he takes a look at it under the vanity light, making sure there's no glass in the cuts. There's a large gash running from the base of his thumb towards the center of his palm, and two small puncture spots beneath his ring finger where the glass just barely cut him. He runs his hand under cold water one last time, then soaks a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol, pressing lightly along the cuts.

He winces as it soaks into the cuts, stinging once again. As he goes to sit down, he tosses the cotton balls into the small trash in the corner of his bathroom, grunting when he finally sits down. He stares down at his hand, examining the wound one last time before starting to unravel the gauze and wrap it around his hand and tucking the end in to keep it in place as much as possible. The stinging hasn't stopped quite yet, his hand feels warm where the cut is but all he can do is hope it’s slightly better in the morning.

Joel lets out a deep sigh as he stands up, walking out of the bathroom and towards his bed. Sleep will fix everything, at least he hopes. He knows it won't lessen the pain of what he's learned tonight, but at least he'll get a break from imagining you with…

He can't even finish the thought, won't finish it. He pulls back his comforter and slips into his bed, reaching to flick off his bedside light before turning onto his side. He’ll deal with it all in the morning.

It’s been about an hour since your date with Tommy ended, now you’re laying in bed on top of your covers, just staring at the ceiling as you go over the events of tonight. The date was alright, you think. You could tell he had put a lot of effort into it, dressing nicer than usual and taking you to a nice spot for dinner. He ordered wine at dinner, which was more shocking than impressive.

The two of you talked about anything and everything, laughing and having a good time, only when Joel wasn’t slipping into your mind. You tried your best to surprise your thoughts, especially since you were on a date with his younger brother, but every time Tommy did something you couldn’t help but think about what Joel would’ve done if you were there with him.

Would he be telling jokes the way Tommy was? Would he have ordered wine instead of his usual in a lame attempt to impress you? He probably wouldn’t have taken you to a place this nice, but you think you would’ve preferred that.

After dinner, Tommy had taken you on a walk around town. The weather was beautiful as the sun was setting, a small breeze picking up as you walked under the street lights. It would’ve been even better if you weren’t distracted the whole time wishing that you were with Joel instead. You felt guilty, absolutely terrible, even now thinking about it makes your stomach twist into a knot. The truth of the matter is, you need to end things with Tommy, sooner than later.

You finally sit up and climb off your bed, walking over to your dresser and grabbing something to sleep in, quickly peeling your outfit from tonight off and slipping into your pajamas. As you toss you things into your hamper, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your mirror, staring back at yourself for a moment.

“What am I going to do.” You let out a deep sigh, walking over to flick your bedroom light off before crawling into bed.

thank you for reading <3

tags: @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @kaybee181520 @joeldjarin @akah565 @chefchy4 @untamedheart81 @merz-8 @fellinfromthetop @znerac @hiddenbabynyc

i think i won’t be doing a tag list from now on…. sorry don’t hate me!! i also post all chapters on my ao3 pale_m00nlight :)

#dbf!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #fic: falling into my sins #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader

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