#i say this while I ran away to self soothe and avoided asking anyone for help

[takethelx3]

Was having a panic attack, made vent art about it, and it was,,, Timkon comfort???? Lmao

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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[kookiesjoonies]

first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done. 

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

Drunken sleepovers with your best friend were your favorite. You were lying on the floor of Jungkook’s living room, the world’s thinnest blanket underneath you to act as a barrier between your back and the hard surface of the floor. 

He laid to your left, nursing a bottle of cheap beer while you sipped red wine from your glass. When the two of you were buzzed, the urge to play drinking games always hit hard. You were thankful he seemed to enjoy them as much as you did, because you were always able to be your genuine, goofy self around him without fear of being judged. 

Tonight’s game of choice was never have I ever— a classic, one that you wish you’d played more. Hearing all of Jungkook’s embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears, big belly laughs that caused you to wheeze. 

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing you to tilt your head to look over at him, “never have I ever told someone they were a good kisser and didn’t mean it.” 

You watched as your friend brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig, insinuating that he had, in fact, done just that. 

When you didn’t drink from your wine glass, his eyebrow cocked and he stared down at you in disbelief. 

“Come on, Y/n. Sure you have!” 

You shrugged, giving him a quick shake of your head. 

“Nope.” Your answer was simple— too simple, which left Jungkook even more intrigued than he was to begin with. 

He didn’t believe you, not by a long shot. But he should’ve. Seeing as how you’d never even kissed anyone, let alone lied about whether they were a good kisser. 

Being in your twenties and having never been on a real date, or held anyone’s hand (other than your friends’, but of course, that was different), or had your first kiss wasn’t exactly the coolest thing. 

You’d wanted to experience such things, but no one that had come into your life so far had been worthy enough. 

Except for one person— the man that was currently staring at you with his round, beautiful doe eyes. You wanted to kick your own ass for thinking of Jungkook in such a way. He was your best friend, nothing more. And you weren’t about to ruin all of that and everything that the two of you had because of your feelings.

“So, what? Everyone that you’ve ever kissed has been exceptional?” His tone let you know that he thought you were full of shit. 

“Kind of have to be kissed in order to confirm or deny that.” You mumbled, voice barely even audible. 

The wine was making you brave, it seemed. You weren’t drunk enough to not realize what you’d said, but you weren’t sober enough to care. 

Jungkook noticeably choked on his beer he’d been drinking, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at the liquid gathering on the corners of his mouth. 

“What did you just say?” 

You sighed, sitting up and leaning your back to rest against the bottom of the sofa behind you. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kook.” 

“Uhm, yeah it is!” He exclaimed, and your eyes rolled in response. 

“No, it isn’t.” You snapped back, wishing the conversation was done and over with already. 

“Can I ask why you’ve never been kissed? I mean— has the opportunity never presented itself, or have you just been waiting for the right person or something?” 

He wasn’t going to let it go, it seemed. So, you twirled around the red liquid in your cup, staring down at it to avoid eye contact with your best friend. Though, you could feel his chocolate eyes burning into you, and you were sure if you glanced over at him he’d be staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but I just… I don’t know? I don’t want just anyone to kiss me. I want it to mean something, to be from someone special.” 

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, and you were internally cursing yourself. 

“Plus,” you said, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, “I don’t even know how to kiss, so, I’ve always been nervous.” 

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook’s voice was filling your ears again. 

“I’ll teach you.” 

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and you were sure the shock was apparent all over your features. Jungkook, however, seemed oddly calm. 

“Uhm, thank you? But we’re best friends, it could make things weird—“ 

He cut you off with a shake of his head, “Nope, our friendship is solid. A little kiss isn’t going to ruin it.” 

You worried at your lower lip, pondering the thought and weighing out the pros and cons. 

You’d always dreamed about what his lips would feel like against yours, you were sure he’d be a skilled kisser. The thought of his hands being in your hair while your mouths moved together in heated passion, or better yet, his hands on your ass— yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. 

Or maybe it was the worst idea. Either way, you were about to find out. 

“Okay.” You nodded, setting your nearly empty glass to the side. 

“Really?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Yeah, but I’d hurry before I change my mind.” 

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been hoping and praying that one day this day would come, and now that it finally had, he was determined to give you the best damn kiss of your life. 

And it made it even better knowing that he was going to be the first person to ever touch your lips with their own. Maybe he wanted to be the first and the only. No, he definitely wanted to be the first and the only. 

“Come here.” He patted his lap, and you quickly caught on. 

Maybe straddling your best friend should’ve felt awkward, but this didn’t. This felt… right.

His large hands found their way onto the sides of your face, effectively cupping your cheeks. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to hear how loudly your heart was thumping against your chest. 

“Is this okay?” You whispered, referring to the way your arms were resting atop his shoulders. 

He nodded, flashing you that gorgeous bunny-like smile of his. Suddenly, you felt a sense of calm. All of your nerves were now replaced with adrenaline and excitement. It was amazing how quickly he was able to calm you down just with one toothy grin. 

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” he assured you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, “just follow my lead, yeah?” 

“Yes, sir.” You teased, and he chuckled. 

His eyes fell shut, and so did yours. Before you knew it, and before your brain could completely process what was happening, you were kissing Jeon Jungkook. 

Fireworks went off all around you, and you could no longer hear the whirring of the AC, or the sound of the television. All you could hear were his lips smacking against yours, and the way his breath hitched as your fingers pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His lips moved slowly, allowing you to get used to the whole process. He was gentle, and you were thankful for that. 

You could savor his taste for the rest of your life, you were sure of it. He tasted heavily of beer mixed with the fried rice you’d shared for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination, but it was Jungkook, so none of it mattered. You didn’t want to taste anything, or anyone else, for as long as you lived. 

His tongue ran along your lower lip, and you didn’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him. His tongue slid easily inside, twisting and curling around yours as he explored every last crevice— memorizing what seemed to get a reaction out of you. 

One particular move of his wet muscle against yours had you keening and moaning into his mouth, and you quickly broke the kiss, bringing your hands up and over your mouth. 

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, Kook, I—“ 

“Sorry for what?” He was out of breath, and his pupils were blown out. 

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the way you’d been tugging at it mindlessly, and his mouth was covered in your red lipstick. He’d never looked hotter, and you were suddenly very aware of the arousal pooling in between your thighs. 

“For— for making that noise, I’m—“ 

His fingers pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and his voice was soothing as he spoke. 

“Why are you sorry? That was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

His words shocked you, “But we’re best friends! I shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be—“ 

For the third time in a matter of minutes, he was cutting off your rambling. 

“Friends don’t kiss like that, Y/n.” 

“So, are you saying you don’t… want to be friends anymore?” 

You feared his answer, ready to run away in a fit of tears if he confirmed your scariest thoughts. You couldn’t lose him, not like this. 

“No, I don’t want to be friends,” your eyes began to well up, but he was quick to stop your tears from flowing with his next words, “I want to be more than that. I want to kiss you all the time, take you out on dates, among other things… whenever you’re ready for that. There’s no pressure here, because even if you don’t want this, I’m not going anywhere.” 

There he goes with that damn calming smile again, the one that caused your heart to stop, yet was its very reason for beating all the same. 

“I’d like that.” You grinned, shuffling your weight above him slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable. 

When he groaned and tossed his head back, you were sure you’d hurt him. But before you could offer him your string of apologies, his hands were falling to your hips to hold you in place. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, “do that again. Please.” 

You arched a perfectly filled in brow, “What, this?”

Your hips rolled in a similar way that they’d done before, this time with more aim and purpose. And the man below you was making the most sinful, most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard. 

His length was hardening underneath you, and your eyes enlarged at the recollection. This definitely wasn’t doing your already seeping pussy any favors. 

“I understand if you don’t want to jump into anything sexual right now,” he breathed, heavy and uneven, “but if you don’t, you’re going to have to get off of me because all I want to do right now is grind into you until you’re cumming in your clothes.” 

“How did we go from being best friends an hour ago, to doing this?” You couldn’t stop the giggle that made its way through your lips, your hips pushing down and rolling into his once more— letting him know that you had no intentions of stopping. 

“I don’t know— Jesus!,” he bit down on his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on your hips and guided their movements, “but I’m so goddamn glad you’re on top of me right now.” 

“Me too.” You were quick to agree, hands bracing on his shoulders to hold yourself up. 

Both of you were gasping now, reveling in the feeling of your sexes grinding against one another. Every graze of his cock against your clothed clit sent fire through your veins, and your vision was beginning to black out. 

You had no idea dry humping could feel this damn good. But you were sure that it had a lot to do with the way Jungkook looked underneath you. 

He was completely wrecked and fucked out already, offering you slews of curses and praises every time you came down on his dick just right. 

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad,” you were bouncing against his length with fervor, no intentions of slowing down or stopping until you both reached your highs, “can’t wait to see that pretty little pussy, fill you up with my cum and mark you as mine.” 

You moaned at the thought, his filthy words moving you further and further to your desired state of euphoria. 

One of his hands gripped tightly on your ass, while the other rested over your clothed core. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission. He knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone before, and he wasn’t about to try and make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with. 

“Go ahead,” you gasped, barely having time to register what he was doing until his fingers were circling over your clit. 

You were very thankful that you’d decided to wear cloth pajama shorts, and thin ones at that. He could feel everything— and so could you. Your hips bucked up and into his hand as you rode his cock, begging for him to make you cum.

“You’re so fucking soaked, babe. It’s leaking through your shorts.” He smirked at the sight, gathering up a bit of the dampness on the tips of his fingers. 

The way he inserted the two digits into his mouth had you crying out, nearly on the verge of tears from the sight alone. 

“Wanna taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded. 

He collected more of your wetness onto his fingertips, and you made a show of sucking on them lewdly once they entered into your mouth. 

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” 

As if to prove his point, you used your own fingers to reach into your panties, gathering your arousal straight from the source. 

His was practically salivating, eyes begging for you to let him clean your fingers off with his tongue. 

As if reading his mind, you nodded. And he wasted no time before suckling your fingertips into his mouth. He moaned around them, savoring your sweet taste. He wished like hell he could pin you down and clean you up with his tongue, but he knew you weren’t ready for that, and he was respectful. 

Still, he was determined to make you cum. He wanted desperately to see what you looked like when you came undone. 

“No more games.” He growled, his hands returning to your hips to hold you steady above him. 

He fucked up against you, the outline of his cock hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves each time. 

Soon, you were crying out and squirming— a poor attempt at trying to get away. 

“F-fuck! Oh, my god!” you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled, or the way your thighs began to shake, “Kook! Holy shit, I’m gonna—“ 

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm washed over you and you came harder than you ever had before in your life. Your body felt hot, and every single one of your limbs were shaking. The only thing you were able to say or remember was Jungkook’s name, chanting it like a prayer as you slowly came back down to earth. 

“That was fucking beautiful,” He was quick to compliment you, staring down at the apparent dark spot on your light pink shorts, “just wanna clean that all up, then do it all over again.” 

Your face was flushed, and you weren’t sure whether it was from the mind blowing orgasm you’d just had or his words. You couldn’t be bothered to care, your body falling limp against his as he held your delicate frame close to him. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You huffed, and you felt the rumble of Jungkook’s chest as he chuckled. 

“So, you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” His hand caressed your back, and your eyes fell shut at the soothing feeling. 

“Mhm.” You were dozing off, barely aware of what he’d said at all. 

He just simply smiled at you, pressing his lips to kiss the top of your head. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to sleep.” 

You nodded as he stood up from the floor, cradling you in his arms. 

“Good idea.” You mumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. 

He carried you down the short hallway to his master bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. You were already nearly asleep as he laid you down on the right side of his bed. 

Jungkook kissed at your temple before making his way over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers for you to change into. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, carrying a damp cloth in his hand when he returned. 

You smiled at him, eyes half open. 

“This feels like a dream.” 

The weight of the mattress shifted as he sat down beside you, holding out the fresh change of undergarments and the towel for you. 

“Tell me about it.” He grinned, turning his head away from you to give you some privacy as you changed out of your soiled shorts. 

You were thankful for that— for how respectful he was. 

As you pulled your shorts down along with your panties, a realization hit you and your eyes widened. 

“Kook!” you shrieked, startling the man, “you didn’t cum!” 

He barked out a laugh at your outburst. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you were quick to prove him wrong. 

“I know, it’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not!” You insisted, quickly wiping your thighs clean and pulling on the plaid boxers he’d given you. 

“Babe, I promise, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you, I wanted to make you feel good.” 

Your lower lip pushed out and into a pout, your hands reaching forward to grab his face so that you could make him look at you. 

“But, I wanted to make you cum.” 

He hissed at your words, willing his cock not to rise. He knew you were tired, and there’d be plenty of time for you to get him off later. 

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We can fool around tomorrow if you want to.” 

You sighed, a tiny frown present on your face now. 

“Can I just… give you a hand job, or something?” 

You didn’t miss the way he groaned at your words, or the way his eyes quickly screwed shut. 

“If you want to, you can. But don’t feel like you have to, I promise, it’s okay.”

“I want to,” you didn’t hesitate in replying, “but I’ve never done it before, so…” 

Before you knew it, he was moving to lie down beside you on the other side of the bed. He was already sporting a tent in his athletic shorts, which had you nearly drooling. Based on the outline, he was sure to be huge. You prayed that you were right. 

Jungkook looked relaxed, large eyes staring up at you and waiting for you to make a move. He flashed you an encouraging smile, his hands resting behind his head. 

“Go ahead, do whatever you want. No need for you to be shy, it’s just me.” 

Just him. 

If anything, those words did little to calm your nerves. You’d only ever dreamed about being in similar predicaments with your best friend. And now that it was real and happening, you were petrified that you’d do something wrong and send him running in the opposite direction. 

Taking a mental deep breath, you sat up in the bed and crossed your legs as you turned your body to sit right beside his lower half. 

You reached a shaky hand forward, brushing your fingertips over the outline of his rock hard length. As your fingertips danced and teased over his covered cock, Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat. 

Carefully studying his face to watch his reactions, you pulled his shorts down and he lifted his hips to help you out. 

The tight, grey briefs he was wearing left little to the imagination. You could see every ridge and curve of his thick length, and drool was collecting on the corners of your mouth as you admired it. 

“Like what you see?” His voice was teasing, and he wiggled his hips. 

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his actions. 

Yeah, it was just Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person you trusted and loved most in this world. It was okay. This was okay. 

With your newfound confidence, you tugged his underwear down, his impressive dick springing free in the process. 

You moaned quietly at the sight. 

Sure, you were a virgin and didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were positive he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen— and would ever see in your life. The head was perfectly pink and already dripping with precum, long veins running from base to tip. You couldn’t wait for the day it would be buried inside of you, and your cunt clenched around nothing at the thought alone. 

Your hand instinctively found itself wrapped around his length as best it could, fingers unable to connect to your palm due to his size. Jungkook let out a breathy sigh at the sudden contact, his eyes glued to the way your hand began to do a few test pumps. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back, “just like that. A little faster.” 

With his guidance, you did as he suggested and picked up the speed of your hand. You watched the way his face contorted, the way his eyes screwed shut and pulled together as you ran your thumb over his slit, collecting the moisture leaking from it to use as makeshift lube. 

Deciding to take a risk, you collect a bit of saliva in your mouth before allowing it to drip down and onto his cock. 

“Hoooooly fuck, that’s hot.” You smirked at Jungkook’s praise and approval, working your hand up and down his shaft at a quicker and easier pace now thanks to the slick your spit had created. 

The faster your hand pumped, the harder it became for Jungkook to properly breathe. He was panting, curses and praises of your name leaving his lips every so often. 

You brought your free hand up to work at his balls, rolling and caressing them in a way that seemed to drive the man halfway to insanity. 

“Fuck, you sure this is your first time doing this?” He breathed out the words, his arm falling to rest over his eyes as he attempted to keep himself composed. 

“Swear.” You responded, eyes glued to the way his bottom lip was now rested between his teeth. 

One final twist of your palm had him reeling, gripping at the sheets underneath him with one hand— his other coming to wrap around your wrist as you continued to work him toward his end. 

He was moaning shamelessly, not the least bit shy in letting you know how amazing you were making him feel. Maybe it was the way you were fondling him, or maybe it was the fact that it was you giving him the best hand job he was sure he’d ever had. 

He decided it was probably a combination of both as his hips thrust up wildly, effectively fucking his dick into your grasp. The way his cock seemed to twitch let you know he was close, and you brought your hand up and then back down as fast as you could. 

He came with a loud moan of your name, his sperm coating his lower stomach and your hand all at the same time. You watched in awe as he lost himself, pride settling in as you realized that you were the one responsible for his orgasm. 

As Jungkook’s body slowly stopped writhing, you removed your hand from his member. You waited for him to make eye contact with you again before you dipped your fingertips into the cum on the back of your other hand and brought them up and into your mouth. 

“Goddamn.” He groaned, marveling at your erotic behavior. 

You effectively cleaned his seed from your fingers, swallowing it and showing him your tongue along with your empty mouth. 

“That was amazing.” His compliments sent butterflies straight to your stomach, and he was pulling your mouth down to crash on his before you could respond. 

“I love you.” You were mumbling the words against his lips before you even realized what you were saying. 

You were panicking instantly, kicking your own ass for blurting it out. Sure, you’d said you loved each other before, but not like this. 

The feeling of Jungkook grinning against your mouth is what calmed you, and you matched his smile with one of your own. 

His forehead rested against yours as he pulled away, and the two of you let out a sigh of content. 

“I love you too, you know.” His hand caressed your lower back as he spoke, your thumb running over his cheek. 

“I was hoping.” You giggled, and he simply shook his head at you. 

This was it, you thought. 

You never wanted to kiss anyone else, or do anything remotely sexual with anyone else. He was going to be your first everything, you were sure of it. And you hoped that he’d be your last.

© kookiesjoonies 2020.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

[xoxo-teddybear]

Hey idk if I’ve asked for this before but can you do nsfw Bakugo x fem reader fic, where you do work studies with him. He’s obviously going to be a little older 3-6 years, and you two have know each other since you were kids and he’s always just been a little nicer to you and cared about you more than others, and when you are working with him you get hurt and he flips out. You’re really confused and your like “wtf why do you care this isn’t affecting your job” and he gets mad your not getting the hint that he cares about you in a “not friendly” way, he ends up tch’ing and just says frick it and confesses that he has feelings for you and you’re just like cool I reciprocate and he’s like “with”... it just gets frisky from there... Idk if this is like a thing you might be interested in writing about, but like it just an idea😃... Anyways I love your work please keep it up🥺(sorry for any grammatical errors I’m writing this at 2:30am)

What Took So Long? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugo x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!receiving, mutual pining, angst, injury, fluff, cursing, all the good stuff

BAKUGOU”S MASTERLIST

Summary: you and Katsuki have been close friends for forever, how long is it gonna take to realize both your love is mutual?

Growing up, you and Katsuki got along really well. You knew him before he got his quirk so you got to see his non-egotistical self. You saw the him that was kind and caring and he always looked out for you, always took care of you, always was there for you. In your eyes, you thought he thought it was in a big brother kinda way. Oh how that changed once you both became teenagers.

You both made it into UA, of course at different times, but you still kept in touch. You guys hung out like, everyday! It was always wake up, FaceTime, go to school, text throughout the day, and meet and go to either your house or his. It was like there was nobody else in the world except you two.

Throughout the years, you developed a small crush on the blonde boy. What went from a small crush turned into love. To you, it was unreciprocated love. He was 3 years older than you! He had to have seen you as a little sister. It only made sense! When you came to that terribly incorrect realization, you pushed back your feelings. What you had with Katsuki was special! You’re friendship meant the world to you. It didn’t matter if you wanted more, what you had was already perfect, there was no way it could’ve gotten better than this.

—

This. These moments. These memories being made with Katsuki kept you sane. As you both cuddled up and watched a trashy reality tv show in your room on your computer, you both threw popcorn at the screen at the cringe scenes.

“BoooooOOOOO!!” You both said as you threw a handful of the buttery snack. You both laughed at the moment as you settled down again. With you both laying on each other, your head on his, while his own rested on your shoulder, you were sure both of you would get neck pains the next day.

“So,” Katsuki started up a conversation, “how’s your third year at UA?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started. Classes got crazy hard outta nowhere. BUT, lucky for me, I have a UA graduate to help me out!” You said while nudging his arm.

“No way teddy bear, you’re finishing that on your own. As a graduate, that means I don’t gotta deal with that bullshit anymore.” He said as he popped some pieces of the snack into his mouth. With that, you pouted. Something he noticed and thought was insanely adorable. He poked your plump lips and told you, “hey, I’m helping you by letting you do your work study at my agency. You’re very welcome for that.”

“Helping? Suuukkiiii, you barely let me go out and fight. How am I supposed to get experience and actually do my work study if I don’t...you know..WORK?” You whined out. Katsuki had always been avoiding this topic. Yeah, he let you get your credits by going to his agency, but he never let you do any real hero work other than paperwork. Don’t get me wrong, you loved hanging out with him as much as you could, but it was beginning to get boring not doing anything at the agency.

“Y/N, no. You’re getting enough experience. Paper work is a big part in the life of a Pro,” he argued.

“Yeah, well saving people and actually getting out there in the field is a bigger part in the life of a pro.” You rebuttled as you flopped down next to him. You looked at him with puppy eyes and he knew what was coming.

“No.”

“Pleaseee Suki!”

“No.”

“Pleaseee!!”

“Nope.”

“Sukiiiiiii!!” You whined while tugging at his arm. He sighed before answering.

“One job, WITH ME, and that’s all you get.” He said while staring at you with a stern look. You smiled and jumped in the air.

“YESSSS!!”

—

So now here you are, on job number whatever. You weren’t sure how many you’ve actually been on because ever since your first job with Katsuki was a huge success, he let you join him more and more. You were almost like a partner to him now, fighting crime together. Except this time...things went a little south.

As the villain struck you down mid air with his quirk, you fell to the ground with a now burned arm. Katsuki saw red. No fucking way. No way in HELL is he going to let some shit faced freak bring harm to his teddy bear, his world, his best friend, and the love of his life. Yup. Katsuki Bakugou fell for his best friend. But could you blame him? You knew him better than anyone else, you guys got along so well, you were absolutely gorgeous and he was sure he’d give his life for you. 100%. So when this scum bag thought he could try and ruin you, he saw red. Blasting him a thousand times over and once he was sure he was out cold, battered, bloodied, and bruised he ran to check on you.

You were sitting on the ground holding your left arm where the burn mark was. Your costume was tattered and your head felt like it was gonna blow. Katsuki came along and didn’t really help with that all too much.

“YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!” He screamed. Oh, the throbbing your head had only increased with his booming voice.

“You see?! This is exactly why I hate bringing you along! You’re always gonna get hurt!” He said as he picked you up off the ground to help you stand.

“Of course I’m gonna get hurt Dynamight, my job as a hero includes a little beating every now and then for the sake and safety of others!” You replied, raising your voice as well.

“You’re NOT a hero Y/N!” He said as he reached out for your arm.

“Yet! Not yet at least! But I will be!” You replied while pulling away from him. His eyes were shaken and it was clear he was mad. You pushing his buttons didn’t help soothe his anger either.

“NO YOU WONT. Y/N ITS SO OBVIOUS YOU’D MAKE A SHIT HERO! YOU ALREADY GOT HURT ON SUCH A SIMPLE JOB, DO YOU HONESTLY THINK ANYBODY WOULD BE WILLING TO DEPEND ON YOU FOR THEIR SAFETY?!?!?” Bakugou heard the words he said and he thought he was doing the right thing. Granted, he knew the delivery was bad, but his message was in there. He didn’t want Y/N to be hurt. If she died on the battle field, Katsuki wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Y/N can’t be a hero, for her safety and his sanity. He loved her too much to have to watch her take beating after beating. However, Y/N took it in a completely different way.

“Are you trying to say I can’t be a good hero?!” You asked filled with anger and hurt.

“Y/N,”

“It’s H/N, Dynamight. That’s the name you’ll address me as for when we’re on the job. That’s the name you’ll have to get used to because I will be a hero!” You exclaimed.

“You can’t be a hero Y/N! You’re gonna get hurt! You always get hurt! You’d be more of a burden on a mission instead of an advantage! So just stop trying ‘Cuz you’re never gonna make it!” He screamed at you. Is this what he really thought of you. That you were weak and wouldn’t be able to do jack shit? As your eyes began to water, you walked away from him in silence.

“Y/N...where are you going?” He asked you as he followed.

“Recovery girl. She’ll heal me up and I’ll be perfectly fine.” You simply stated.

“At least let me help you,” Bakugou said as he tried to reach out to you, but you only stepped away from him again, which made his heart hurt a little.

“Don’t touch me, Bakugou. I’ll be fine on my own.” You said.

“Bakugou? Who the fuck are you talking to teddy bear?” He said as he got all up in your face. You only rolled your eyes and stepped to the side. You used your quirk to get into the air and travel faster. In the dust, you left behind a confused and hurt Katsuki.

“Uhh....Okay! See you later for movie night!” He yelled out as he watched you fly off. You’d still show up, right? Yeah, you’d show. You always spent everyday together after school and work so it only made sense...right?

—

Well he was wrong. Really wrong. It’s been a week since you last spoke to him, the longest it’s ever been, and he was starting to get into a depressing cycle. Wake up, call Y/N. No reply. Get ready, spam her. No reply. Go to work, text Y/N throughout the day. No reply. Get out of work, go home, shower, eat dinner, do whatever while stalking your social media, go to bed, spam a little more, call twice more, and still. No reply. He misses his teddy bear.

Y/N doesn’t even go to her work study anymore. She’s been doing everything she could to avoid Bakugou, and he’s noticed it all too well. He still gave her the credits, he wanted her to pass of course, but he was also tempted to stop doing that just so she could show up and see him. Thankfully he didn’t.

Now here lies Bakugou Katsuki, watching a movie by himself again, hoping his crush and best friend would show up. But again, like every other night for the past week, she hasn’t shown. The end credits roll in and Bakugou sighs as he looks down, thinking back to all he said.

‘Y/N ITS SO OBVIOUS YOU’D MAKE A SHIT HERO! ... DO YOU HONESTLY THINK ANYBODY WOULD BE WILLING TO DEPEND ON YOU FOR THEIR SAFETY?! ... you’re never gonna make it!’

Bakugou flopped down onto his bed.

“Great idea Katsuki, tell your dream girl she won’t ever reach her goals. That’ll win her heart,” he sarcastically said aloud as he cringed at his own thoughts. Bakugou just let a few tears fall, before rolling over and going to bed. He had patrol in the morning, maybe it’ll get his mind off of Y/N.

—

Orrrr maybe not. Because here he was, Pro-hero Dynamight, following around his 18 year old crush as she walked home after getting some coffee from their favorite cafe. Should he have been on patrol keeping the city safe? Yes. But was he going to take this chance to talk to Y/N to fix this shit? Yes.

Once Y/N made it to her doorstep she heard a voice behind her.

“Glad you made it home safe..Maybe we could pick up on that trashy reality show now that we’re both here,” Katsuki said while trying to joke around. Y/N only rolled her eyes at the hero and attempted to put her key into the lock. Katsuki was quick to react though. He snatched her keys out of her hand before speaking again.

“Y/N please! I can’t live like this! I can’t live without you in my life. You’ve been absent for a week and it’s been driving me insane!” He said while holding onto your wrist.

“Katsuki, give me back my keys.” You calmly said.

“Y/N, just hear me out.” He also calmly said.

“And listen to you say what Katsuki?! That I’ll never be a hero? That even if I was I’d be a terrible one? That I should just give up and stop trying?! Don’t worry, I already have. So now, let me go-“ Bakugou shut you up with a kiss. You were shocked and froze up. He kissed you with such passion and you melted into it, closing your eyes and letting him hold you as he pleased. He speperated from you before speaking again.

“You are not a terrible hero. Y/N you’re one of the strongest people I know. If anything, you’d be a better hero than me...but if you got hurt, I don’t know what I would do.” He said looking down. You turned your head in confusion at his small confession.

“Katsuki?..”

“When you got hurt that day, I was livid. I almost killed that guy, just for scorching your arm. There are so many worse things that could happen to you when you do become a pro and the fact that I freaked out so bad over a little burn is insane! I just want you to be safe. I can’t let you risk your life when I need you hear with me the most...... I can’t let the girl of my dreams get hurt.” He said while placing his forehead on yours.

“When I become a hero, I’d be taking on an oath to put others before my own. And that’s what I choose to do. I’m gonna get banged up from time to time and I understand you’re worried about me, but you have to trust me when I saw I’ll always come back to you. I love you Katsuki.” With that, Bakugou slowly moved in to give you another kiss. This time, you kissed him back, letting your hands travel to his soft, golden hair as he pressed you up against the door.

You heard him unlock your door during the kiss, and as he separated he spoke.

“Let me show you just how much I love you Y/N.” He pushed open the door and continued to make out with you. Kicking the door to close it, he pushed you up against the wall. There he picked you up, and groped your ass, earning a moan from you. With your mouth open, he slipped his tongue in, tasting all of you. He walked to your bedroom, kicking open the door this time, and shutting it the same way as before. He dropped you onto the bed as you both giggled in excitement. You noticed something though. He was still in hero gear.

“Shouldnt you be on patrol, Dynamight?” You asked as he came up to kiss your neck and you pulled him in closer.

“Dynamight has something better to do right now, Teddy Bear. And you know what?” He asked while putting his face right infront of yours.

“Tell me what, hero.”

“That’s the exact name I want you screaming.” He smirked. He tore off his top and mask before taking off your own. He then attacked your breast. He pulled off your bra before taking a second to admire your perfect curves. He squeezed a mound in one hand before taking in the other one with his mouth, biting at your nipple. Leaving hickies all over your chest, he was proud to see the purple marks that now adorn your upper body. He pulled down your pants and kissed your inner thighs. Right at the center was his treat. He pulled at your panties and stuffed them in his pocket.

“Hey!” You said after you noticed what he did.

“My little souvenir. Don’t worry about it princess, I’ll buy you more.” He kissed up on your legs and saw your arousal glistening. He licked his lips as his ruby eyes dialated. He was excited. He took an experimental lick as you moaned at the feeling and he savored the sweet taste. He could help himself, he dove right in for more. As his tongue lapped up against your clit, you moaned out in pleasure.

“Mm...yess Suki! Oh fuck right there..” you said as you pulled on his hair. He smacked your thigh, receiving a yelp from you.

“That’s not my name, princess~” he smirked against your pussy. He stuck his tongue in you and you cried out even more.

“F-Fuck! Dynamight, pleasee...more!” He squeezed your ass in approval as your legs began to shake. He knew what was coming and used his fingers to rub against your bud.

“Fuck..cum for me princess, cum in my mouth and let your hero taste you.” He said as your squirted in his face and Bakugou suck your clit, collecting all your sweet nectar.

“What a good girl,” he said as he came up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You ready for the main event?” He asked while giving you this cocky grin.

“Please..” you whined out.

“Please what, princess? You’re gonna need to be specific.” He knew what he was doing. He wanted you to beg. And you were going to do it.

“Mm..Please Dynamight! Please fuck me with your cock! Please fuck my pussy!” You begged. He smiled and smacked your ass.

“Good girl.” He said as he pulled down his hero slacks and stepped out of the material. Here he was, Pro-hero Dynamight and your now ex best friend completely stripped infront of you. His member hanging out with a hard erection and your eyes went wide at the length. He noticed this and tilted your chin up so your E/C diamonds could meet his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’ll fit,” he kindly said.

“Doubt it,” you sarcastically replied.

“Then we’ll make it fit, Princess.” You bit your lip in excitement. He pumped his cock a few times before placing the tip at your entrance. He rubbed his tip up and down you slit as he spoke.

“I’ve wanted this for so long princess, and now I’m finally gonna make you mine.” He said before he slammed in as you both cried out in ecstasy.

“Oh-oh my god..” you whimpered. He peppered your face in kisses to distract you from the pain. Once you adjusted to his size, you begged him to move.

“Please..more.”

With your permission, he began to thrust in and out of your heat, with hard, slow strokes. Both of you moaning as the sensation. The way he filled you up completely was euphoric. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, moaning into it as he picked up his pace a little more. You could hear his grunts and soft moans as he sped up, enjoying the way your pussy held him tight.

“Mm...Harder, Dynamight...F-Faster..please!” You whined. Katsuki listened, and he listened well. His strokes went deeper, his speed increased, and he fucked you harder than ever as he went up to your ear.

“Yeah...you want it harder?...deeper?....Mm fuck, faster princess? You like it rough? You like how Dynamight fucks your tight little cunt?” He asked while you cried out in pure pleasure.

“Y-yesss. Oh my god yes Dynamight. Fuck me just like this...ahhh!” Bakugou grabbed onto your ass with both his hands as he pummeled into you. You gripped his hair and he moaned at the feeling. He sucked on one of your tits as he looked at you. God, you were gorgeous. The blush that covered your face, you mouth hanging open with a slight smile as moans fall from it, and your eyes looking up like you’ve been fucked stupid.

“Oh..I’m gonna cum! Please, I’m gonna cum!” You moaned out.

“Not yet Teddy bear. Hold it,” he said as he gave your ass a hard smack and pulled out of you. You whined at the loss of his cock and looked at him with begging eyes.

“Turn around princess. I want you on all fours.” He simply said as he continued to pump his cock.” You moaned at the sight of it and smirked to yourself. He watched as you dragged your hand to your center and began playing with yourself.

“And if I don’t listen?” You smiled as you moaned at the way your fingers rubbed at your pussy. Bakugou grabbed your hand and got in your face before you could go any further.

“Then the brat who wants to cum so bad will cum for me 100 times over as her punishment.” He said as a threat but you only took it the best way possible.

“Sounds fun..Katsuki.” With that, he yanked your hand away from yourself and flipped you over before slamming back into you from behind and smacking your ass again and again.

“Ohh fuck...Ah...you think you’re funny, huh y-you brat? Let’s see how funny you are when I fuck you so dumb the only thing you’ll know is my name.” He said as he pounded into you. Your cried were muffled as you screamed into the mattress.

“Don’t do that, princess, I wanna hear your pretty cries,” he said as he yanked your hair, lifting your head up. He grabbed onto your neck and kissed you as you both loudly moaned into it. He squeezed your neck ever so lightly but tightly as he placed his forehead on yours to look down at where you both meet and become one. He sped up at the sight.

“I bet you love this. I bet you love having Dynamight’s cock deep inside you. Can you feel me? Huh? Feel me in your guts? Feel my big dick deep inside you?” He asked as he looked back at you.

“Y-Yesss! Oh f-fuck...ohhh so big!” Bakugou smiled at your comments and felt you squeeze around him.

“S-shit...you gonna cum? Gonna come on this big dick?” He asked as his hand traveled to you pussy, rubbing at your clit.

“Do it! Do it now, cum on my cock!” You squirted around his cock and Bakugou continued to fuck you through your orgasm and you cried out, and your upper body fell to the mattress. His hands grabbed at your waist as he pounded your pussy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and bit his bottom lip as he threw his head back moaning out.

“Fuck! Ohh f-fuck, I’m gonna cum. You want my cum princess? Can I fill your pussy with my cum?” He asked while looking down at you. You had little tears poking at the ends of your eyes due to the mass amount of pleasure and Bakugou came at the sight. His thrust stopped as his hips met your ass in a final push, while his cum went deeper into your pussy, filling you to the brim. You both cried out as he finished and he kept himself in there for a little until you both caught your breath. He kissed up your spine to your cheek as he pulled out and layed down next to you.

As he pulled you closer to him he could hear your soft voice.

“A-amazing...Suki.” You said as you nuzzled into his neck. He only smiled as he realized you forgot.

“I hope so, cuz we’re not done teddy bear.” He said while smirking. Your eyes went wide as you looked at him in shock.

“Your punishment. Remember? I want you cumming on my cock a 100 times over. I don’t even want you to be able to walk for the next week.” He said while looking you right in his eyes. You took on his little challenge and straddled his waist before pumping his cock a few times and hovering over it. He watched the whole thing and licked his lips at you.

“Fine then Dynamight,” you said as his hands traveled to your hips. “Show me what you got,” you said as you slammed back down on him releasing cries from both you and him. This was gonna be a fun, long night.

—

After rounds 2, 3, 4, and 5, you both lie on your bed completely fucked out as you held onto each other. Bakugou was contempt as he held you under his chin and thought you were asleep. You were only resting your eyes with a soft smile on your face. Bakugou kissed the top of your head before softly speaking.

“I’m so sorry for everything I said teddy bear. You are the most amazing person in the world. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I wanna protect you for the rest of my life. I love you with my everything and I really want you to officially be mine. When you wake up, I’m gonna tell you all of this.” Bakugou sighed. Now it was your turn to speak.

“You don’t have to wait Suki,” you softly spoke as Bakugou looked down at you in shock. “I already heard it all, and I want to officially be yours too.” You said while looking right at him.

“Heh..I thought you passed out,” he teased.

“Well then I guess you’re not as good as you thought, Dynamight.” You teased back.

“You tryna say I didn’t fuck you good enough princess?! Cuz I still got enough for one more round that’ll be sure to shut your mouth real quick!” You only laughed at his little outburst.

“I’m good Suki. Trust me, you did more than enough.” You said.

“You’re damn right. And by the way you were screaming my name, I’m sure of it.” He proudly stated.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes and softly spoke. You both gently laughed at the teasing and embraced each other once more, but this time a little tighter.

After a few peaceful moments of silence, you heard him speak up.

“So..you’re being serious about really wanting to be mine..right?” Bakugou asked with worry laced in his voice.

“Of course I’m serious Suki. I don’t wanna be anybody else’s but yours.” You said in the cutest voice. Bakugou blushed at the confession.

“Ok then teddy bear. You’re mine now, and I’m never gonna let you go again.” He whispered. “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Suki.”

—

“WHERE WERE YOU?!?? A BANK WAS ROBBED, MULTIPLE PEOPLE WERE MUGGED, AND 2 VILLAIN BRAWLS BROKE OUT ON YOUR PATROL MAN!! ARE YOU GOOD?!?” Red riot screamed into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m great actually, a lot of good stuff happened on my patrol.” Bakugou said as he drank from his glass of water.

“Dude. Seriously?” The red head said in disbelief. What could possibly make up for all the crimes committed on his best friend’s watch?!

“Seriously. Gotta go, talk to you later shitty hair.” Katsuki said as he hung up the phone. As he finished cooking, he brought two plates of food to the couch for Y/N and himself. He had to carry Y/N there.

“What was all that about?” Y/N asked as she took a sip from her cup and turning away from the trashy reality show you both were watching.

“Just another reason why you’d make a better hero than me, teddy bear.” You awed at the compliment and cuddled into him. If only you knew how serious he was being.

Kirishima would know. For he was the one running around like a mad man trying to stop all the crimes committed due to his best friend being absent thanks to his horny desires.

A/N: YAYYY MY FIRST REQUEST! I really enjoyed writing this one and I’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. I’m hope you enjoyed it tho! Feel free to drop more request for me to do!💗🧸

P.S. New series coming on the way!

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (13/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warning : angst, violence, sad reader, sad Bucky, shitty Rumlow, maybe Steve isn’t that bad, the doughnuts are back from chapter 11, did I mention angst?, angst, more angst

Everything was dark, you noticed. When you slowly returned to consciousness, you half expected to be in your bed with Bucky tangled beside you, just like in your dreams. He fit so perfectly in your bed — your life and you, as if he was a part of you, and you weren't sure where he ended and where you began. 

But when you moved to stretch your aching limbs, they moved a few inches before halting by some sort of restriction. Instantly, the bubble of your dreams burst, and everything came to your mind, and you abruptly looked around to find him. Bucky was still unconscious — tied to a chair, but instead of rope like yours, he was tied down with manacles. He had restraints on his wrists and ankles. You were sort of offended that they didn’t think you were strong enough to be captured like him. Not that you wanted those manacles anywhere near your body, but you preferred not to be treated as if you were meek.

What could be worse than getting kidnapped? It's definitely getting rekidnapped with the person who came to rescue you. Clint lied, he was working with Rumlow. His source was nothing but an ambush for Bucky. There were more than 4 of Rumlow’s men in the warehouse. Clint lied so that Bucky would come under prepared and he fell right into the trap.  

Earlier, it was just you in a room alone, but now it was you and Bucky in a dingy cell-like room with a closed door. He was still knocked out when the man known as Rumlow walked in. You recalled him from the time he came to the club, and you wanted nothing more than to run towards the safe embrace of your lover. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Rumlow’s steps halted when he was near your tied form. His hand came for your cheek and naturally, you recoiled away. Your rejection didn’t deter him, it only fueled his fury more as he held your chin tightly in his other hand and made you look at him. You attempted to get out of his grasp, which only angered him more, and he struck his hand to your face. It ached so much and it was so loud that it jolted Bucky up. 

“Will you look at that,” Rumlow mocked, pushing your face away from his hold. “Lover boy can feel her pain.”

It took a second for Bucky to drink in the sight and commemorate everything. Once everything came back to him, he looked at you deplorably, his eyes filled with concern and guilt as he saw the blood dripping down your face.

“Get away from her, Rumlow!” Bucky seethed when his gaze was back at the man who hurt you. Despite the warning, Rumlow moved more towards you. One hand running his knuckles on your face in an attempt to be soothing, while the other held your chin in a painful grip.

“Why do you get to keep such a pretty thing all to yourself?” Rumlow asked rhetorically. “I should get a taste too.”

Before Bucky could try to do something, a knock on the door attracted everyone’s attention. Clint came in with a look of victory on his face.

“You betraying son of a bitch,” you hissed. Unlike Bucky, you didn’t have much self-restraint or any wise escape plan cooking in your head. “Why the fuck did you do it?”

“You’re new, sweetheart,” Clint pointed out, his tone condescending. “You don't know how it works.” 

“What I know is that your wife is friends with Wanda's girlfriend,” you retorted back immediately. You were tired of being seen as weak. ”How will she feel when she finds out that you betrayed Bucky?”

A look of uncertainty came over Clint's face and you continued, “I might be new, sweetheart, but I’m not dumb.”

When Clint was astounded, Rumlow spoke up,” Ah, the power of pillow talk. You are one feisty little bitch. What else did he tell you? Did he tell you that his work is not illegal and he sells weapons to the government?”

You looked at Bucky, hoping that the man you knew and loved was nothing like this monster who assaulted you. Rumlow continued, “Barnes, Rogers and I started this whole a business together. They enjoyed the money that was brought in with our illegal escapade. He enjoyed girls like you every day. Until one day, the childhood buddies decided it was time to go clean. And they just left us in pursuit of some dream life.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked over at Bucky who was staring at the floor as if waiting for it to open and swallow him whole. Was he ashamed of his past? Did he think that his past would make you love him any less? If he did, then he was highly mistaken because now you didn't see James as your arrogant boss. Now you saw a young boy who made some questionable choices and, to make a better life for himself and his family, he changed his direction. Now you saw a reckless boy who did stupid shit in his past like everyone in the world and instead of letting it define him, he made a better life for himself. Now you saw a hardworking boy who worked his ass off to build an empire for himself and his loved ones. All of these versions of him existed before you, but you only saw one — the one that mattered to you at least, you just saw the love of your life, your Bucky.

The universe might have listened to your pleas because Rumlow’s phone rang and both he and Clint exited the room. You didn’t know how to start a conversation with Bucky. He didn't want to, that you were sure of. What were you supposed to say? That his hardship and past made him look hotter in your eyes? You wanted to avoid romanticizing his struggles, so you resorted to the only thing you do when you are tense.

“This is not the lunch date I had in mind,” you teased, forcefully huffing to make the situation seem less intense. When Bucky did not respond or even looked at you, you retorted to another antic. “I remember that song name, you know — Invisible String. Taylor Swift, of course. It would make an excellent bakery name. We can -”

“We can what?” Bucky finally snapped, “You want me to fire my friends and convert the most profitable club into a fucking bakery, huh?” 

“Is that what you want? A life with a man who got you involved in this shit?” you flinched at his harsh words. You knew this wasn’t your Bucky — your Bucky was all about sweet touches, teasing words and passionate kisses. No, this was the Bucky that Rumlow recognized. 

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your tone gentle. “I’m sorry you're stuck here because of me, but -”

He cut you off. “Doll,” he exhaled, his voice devoid of all the venom present a moment ago, It was filled with the adoration towards you that you were used to; Nonetheless, it still made you feel dizzy all the time. His face softened before saying, “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I got you into this mess. I should have stayed away from you.”

You opened your mouth to object. You wanted to tell him that he was being stupid — that you would get through this together, but he sustained.

“I will stay away from you,” he pondered, his eyes avoiding yours again. 

No, you wouldn't let that happen. You finally had him, and you wouldn't let Rumlow get into Bucky's head. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” he concluded, “When we are out of here. I will maintain my distance.”

You tried to ask him to stop saying that, but he kept ignoring your words and looked at the wall behind you for almost an hour. When it got to your nerves, and you were starting to get pissed he started whistling a song you weren’t quite familiar with. “Seriously? How old are you? Five?”

He didn’t respond. “So what? You're just gonna ignore me while we’re tied here?”

 “Hey, let's play a game,” you tried again.

Before you could lose all your patience and start yelling at him, you heard grunting sounds from behind the door. You shuddered, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to see Rumlow again, in fact, you never wanted to see Rumlow.

Sensing your discomfort made Bucky finally speak up. “Y/N, look at me,” his voice sweet as ever, as if he hadn't been ignoring you for the past hour. You looked at him, and he held your gaze, assuring you, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak anything. Both of you held your breath, waiting for someone to walk in and hurt you more, but it never came. All that came was a blond man with a gun in his hand, whom you recognized instantly — Steve. You didn't like that man one bit because he clearly disliked you, but at that moment, he was your angel who came to your rescue.

Immediately, Steve ran towards his pal who nodded his head towards you, indicating his friend to let you out of the restraint first. Again, he had manacles around his wrists and limbs, and he wanted you to be free of the rope that was around you. Steve took his friend’s request and freed you of your restriction before doing the same for Bucky.

When you stood up, the world stood up with you, and you realized that you hadn’t eaten anything in more than 24 hours. You almost collapsed on the floor when two strong hands came to your relief and held you. You didn’t need to keep your eyes open to see who it was. Likewise, you knew it was Bucky — you could recognize his touch anywhere, and just liked that you passed out.

The next time you gained awareness, you were moving swiftly. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge that you were in a car. You craned your neck upward to find your head situated on a hard and firm chest, Bucky looked down at you and engulfed you tighter to his side, your legs resting on his lap while his free hand was settled on the back of your thigh, holding you closer to him. 

“Doll,” his voice was barely audible, and you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to him or if he didn't whisper it in your ear. “You gotta eat something.”

Tiredly, you nodded and Bucky nudged you softly, encouraging you to straighten up a little before eating something. You straightened your back and somebody passed a box from the passenger seat. Steve, you recognized him and the person in the driver's seat — Sam. Both of them looked at you sympathetically, and you smiled at them, or at least tried to. You were so exhausted.

Bucky opened the box and took out a doughnut, which you brought for him that morning, or was it the previous morning? How long had it been since you were kidnapped?

Two doughnuts and one bottle of water later, you were back at your apartment. Bucky’s hand rested on the small of your back as Steve and Sam followed both of you. You hesitated before unlocking the door, and Bucky ran his hand on your back reassuringly as he ensured you, “I’ve got you, doll.”

Bucky said something to Sam and Steve, but you were too exhausted to listen. Once they were gone, Bucky strode towards you, cupping your face in his hands as he scanned your face for all the wounds. “How about you clean up, and I’ll get the first aid kit. Okay, doll?”

Just like the whole night or day or whatever time it was, you didn't remember most of the bath. You remembered going into the shower — you remembered water running down your body — you remembered seeing red water (probably from your bruises) seeping in the drain — you remembered seeing someone in the mirror you didn't recognize — you remembered falling to the floor and crying and most importantly you remembered calling for Bucky.

As if standing outside the door, Bucky was crouched over you instantly . He wrapped a towel around your naked form and held you on the bathroom floor while you cried and finally acknowledged the trauma that you had encountered.

Bucky held you as you continued to cry in muffled sobs against his chest. When you fell asleep, he placed you and tucked you in your bed comfortably before getting in himself. You wrapped your arms around him in your sleep and held him like the anchor he was to you. Bucky pressed a kiss in your hair and whispered his love and apologies to you for pulling you into his messed up life. You couldn't fathom a word he confessed before sleep finally engulfed you.

TAGS : @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998 @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy​ @maladaptivexxdaydreaming​ @sabrinathesimp

A/N - Hey, I finally made a Taglist .This was a very intense (please don’t hate me) I love you bye. Take care!

[im-going-to-cryo-bust]

heyy,may i request with diluc and kaeya, s/o who gets hurt but like doesn't tell them till someone slips it up.Thank you!!

Diluc and Kaeya on: fem!s/o getting hurt

WARNING: angst/hurt with comfort

You end up in the hospital after a series of rookie mistakes. It's not your first time, so you reassure your teammates and plead them to keep quiet about it. It only takes a few weeks or only one day, considering that elemental healing will speed up the process. All you have to do is lie down and pray that no one spills the beans until things are better or confirmed...

Kaeya is in the center of Mondstadt so it’s impossible to avoid him, he did suspect that your mission is going on longer than usual

Ah, but what was the point of secrecy? Kaeya is too good at sweet talking that he found out in an hour - majority of that hour spent hunting down your party members.

He'll most likely "accidentally" stumble into your party members and bait them to a willing, subtle interrogation

He'll tease out little hints and piece everything together without even needing a direct answer

If you had a minor injury

He would take some time on the way to buy you a snack or gift to make you feel better. He spends a little longer more than he would like, cursing a bit and choosing one of the three presents he thought you might like. You hear rhythmic knocks on your door and the door swings open, Kaeya dramatically walking in with a smug smirk on his face. "How are you doing?"

You roll your eyes as Kaeya saunters in, sitting next to you and holding a gift in his hands. He laughs, but he looks nervous. His leg shakes erratically despite him pushing down on it, knuckles white. Then you remember the way his eyes flickering around the room, averted by his vexing smirk. Before you can talk about it, he interrupts with a distraction, the gift. He observes you with a smile as you brighten up at the sight of it, feeling a lot more better at the sight of you. 

Kaeya continues to distract you with teases that get you all riled up (adorable and hilarious in his opinion) and discussing the nervous nature of your encountered party member. You take the opportunity to retort about his nervousness. He looks stunned for a second, but he chuckles, “I knew I couldn’t get anything past you..” He hesitates. “I was worried when your friends looked so anxious, I was preparing myself for...” ‘The worst.’ Kaeya leaves it as it is, bitter smile in the pensive atmosphere. You clutch his hand tighter and Kaeya lightens up, reciprocating and knitting your hands together.

“When they said it was minor and you would recover soon, it was like a boulder was lifted off my chest.” He pats your head, his touch lingering longer and his gaze fond. “I’m glad, glad that you’re okay.”

If you had a major injury

"What?" His charming smile disappears, words slipping through a frown of gritted teeth, daring (even hopeful) for the person to say it's a joke. The answer doesn't matter, he can tell from their expression. He only allows a flash of pure terror to be seen by them, pushing through the crowds of people to reach the hospital.

When he bursts into the room to see you, his eyes fixated on yours. He freezes at the door, processing everything now while you are there, alive, in front of him. He refuses the voice in his head feeding into his fears, making him scared to come closer for a confirmation. He might have to face it: a loss and an emptiness.

But then you weakly smile and reach out for him; and he can finally breathe again. He is so urgent that he stumbles to get there, to give you comfort. Finally, when he sits next to you, you can see closer the joy but weariness in his expression. He has a smile unlike Kaeya, ridden with anxieties and unable to fool even a domestic dog. He pecks your hand and sandwiches it between his, familiar warmth wrapping around your hand. You start to fall asleep, exhausted by the events of today, and Kaeya overlooks worryingly. These injuries happen all the time, it's part of the job, but it doesn't make it any better to see - especially when it involves you. He swears and curses under his breath, not wanting to wake you up. 'It's best for her to get some rest', he tries to assure himself from his concerns, but he can't stop his stupid leg from shaking. He hangs his head, still clutching your hand, and he allows a few tears to fall despite himself. He closes his eyes and focuses on the touch of you, calming down and slowing down his breaths knowing that you are here, alive and well, next to him.

When you wake up, Kaeya's head lies uncomfortably asleep with a disturbed expression on his face. Your hand is intertwined with his while you both were sleeping, seeking that familiar heat that made you feel ever better. He mumbles in his sleep, his grip tightening on your hand as often as his eyebrows furrow. Your touch soothes him, the tension and wrinkles on his face vanishes when you lovingly stroke his hair or gently caress his cheek. As long as he can feel your warmth, he can sleep much better.

He would either find it through his acquaintance in Mondstadt’s hospital or be told at the winery. 

It’s not pleasant either way, especially since there would be a period of unsettling silence after the metaphorical beans have been spilt

His interrogating is less subtle than Kaeya, very straight forward and to the point so he can get to where you are faster with preparation

Diluc uses the classic, intimidation method that is amplified by his resolve to see you and assure himself that you are safe

If you had a minor injury

You hear soft knocks on your door and a tentative voice asking from your lover, giving you a forewarning before he comes in. He doesn’t waste a second to be by your side, assessing your injury in closer detail then lightly scolding you out of the worry. It might take 2-6 minutes just for him to calm down and get it all out. Diluc is sensitive to your injuries, fearing the worst when anything happens, and he finds it childish; always trying to hide it with his lectures. This grumpy façade falls quickly, like always, after reassurance from you and inspecting your wellbeing with his own eyes. 

Diluc sighs, "...but it's a minor injury, and you’re Y/n L/n.” He smiles assuredly and it encourages you because of how confident he is of you.

He’ll cling to you, self-aware of his behaviour and evidently embarrassed about it, but does it nonetheless with pink cheeks. You pretend not to see when he hesitantly leans on you or when his hand lingers on yours while you both chat about everything else. Soon you’ll find him pecking your cheek or kissing you more than usual

“It’s to make you feel better.” He mumbles going in for another after you tease him about it. Kisses are one of the things he uses to be expressive for his love for you, so he becomes generous when you get hurt like this and gets more affectionate to hopefully “love” the pain away.

If you had a major injury

Diluc is shell shocked; colour draining from his face in favour of raw fear. He is reminded of the dreadful past and it toys with his heart, stringing it along to his vulnerability of you. He fails to fully grasp his thoughts but his legs move on their own to see you, to feel you and to know for sure that you're okay. He pushes and shoves through people in his way, silent to anyone that approaches. He finds it hard to breathe, maybe it's how he ran to the hospital or the tight cinching in his chest.

When he enters your room, he'll take in your form and process the injuries you've sustained. He looks more horrified and panicked the longer he looks. He beats himself over it and swallowing the growing shame in his throat. ‘How could I have let this happen?’ Past buried memories come alive and it gets harder for him to stay grounded. These things don’t go away easily, he knows from experience, and he’s afraid of the unknown future and of what will happen next. What if you don’t recover and... Bad thoughts choke him up and he wallows deeper into it.

But then you smile, like nothing is wrong; even though that small action took so much energy and you end up wincing in pain. Diluc looks heartbroken.

No moment is spared when he is next to you, he'll even fall on his knees and just, cry. It's like all this tension in his chest is released at once. It's scary, worrying even, and you start to wonder who's supposed to worry over who. You stroke his hair and mumble comforting words, his sobbing dissolves into embarrassed sniffles. He remarks on it, but you reassure him that it's endearing.

You both might fall asleep like that; your hand on his nest of hair and his head on the hospital bed. There are some times you wake up and see Diluc awake in cold sweats, tightly gripping on the covers of your bed, pale as a ghost in the night. He tells you to go back to sleep and rest, but you wait until he does. He guilty stares at you as you stay up, half-awake at 2am, about how it’s fine and how it’s going to be okay. He shakes his head and looks pitifully at you, flinching at your injuries - more effected than you are. It makes you upset and a little frustrated, so you sigh and reach out to him. He leans close and you kiss him on the forehead, expressing a passionate-believe me glare. Then he remembers that he trusts you, you are the Y/n he loves. He smiles gratefully, and when you wake up in the morning he is still snoring asleep. 

🌼💫 Hello, sorry for the inactivity, it’s just that I got quite stuck. But now it’s over and this is the result :) This is a very very long post, so I had to put a “keep reading” or else people uninterested would have to keep scrolling for 5 minutes. A reminder is that this is what I hc Diluc and Kaeya to act, it’s not definite and it’s fine if you disagree because this is imaginary and based on subjective perceptions. If you do enjoy these hcs, do check out my blog for more and tell me if you do!

[harrysweasleys]

yellow sundress // f.w

summary: fred spots you at bill and fleur’s wedding and can’t keep you off his mind.

warnings: none

word count: 3.2k

a/n: let’s all pretend there’s no war and the wedding doesn’t end horribly, shall we? (for my own sanity, of course) :) xx enjoy!

—

Fred was happy for his brother, really. Bill was always the most mature of the Weasley clan — well, according to Molly, anyways. Always boasting about how Bill had his life in order and how he’d go on to do great things. So, although Fred grew up feeling slightly envious of his big brother, today he was happy. Happy for him and happy that there was finally something for the family to celebrate.

He had found himself rather excited the morning of the wedding. Him and George had spent the night at the burrow — Molly’s orders — so they could prepare and set up the tent bright and early. Arrangements for the wedding had been made very last minute indeed, so the panic and rush was still happening hours before the happy couple were to say ‘I do.’

The early morning grass was still wet with dew drops, shimmering like little diamonds under the hazy sunshine. The field was quiet except for the occasional caw of a bird or the screech of an insect. 

Though sunny, it wasn’t overly warm. Fred found it just comfortable to wear a long sleeved shirt under his waistcoat, preventing goosebumps from rising on his skin every time the morning breeze rolled around. There wasn’t much heavy lifting to be done, thanks to magic, so Fred found himself sitting back with his brothers, only ever occasionally giving a lazy flick of his wand to pitch in.

“So, no date?” Ron walked up to Fred, crossing his arms across his chest and giving his brother a small smirk as they finished pinning the tent into the ground.

Fred scoffed, “Coming from you?”

Ron rolled his eyes, “You’re older than me, you need to get a move on. Maybe you’re next,” he joked, motioning his hands to the wedding preparations.

Fred fought the urge to smack him across the back of the head, “You hilarious little git.”

Ron’s laughter echoed in Fred’s ears, a taunting reminder that he indeed did not have someone in his life. Someone that he could have on his arm right now, someone that he could end up dancing the night away with. Although Fred teased Ron about his bad luck with women, he knew his little brother fancied Hermione, and she felt the same way back. It was only a matter of time before the two ran off into the sunset together, really.

Fred scoffed at the thought of his youngest brother getting married before him.

The tent was up and ready in no time, a few of the distant Weasley cousins and some old school friends of Bill’s already underneath it, setting up tables and chairs so that there was room for people to sit. 

Molly called his name from inside the house, her head sticking out of the kitchen window and her arms waving wildly; a clear sign to Fred that he should rush over.

“What is it?” he asked as he entered through the doorway, ducking his head to avoid hitting one of the wooden beams hanging low by the kitchen entrance. A beam that he had whacked his heads so many times on when he was growing up that he was surprised his Boggart didn’t turn into it when he was still in school.

“Carry these out!” Molly huffed, shoving multiple large trays of goods into his arms, her hair sticking out all over the place and her apron stained with icing and different kinds of sauces.

Fred agreed, walking ever so slowly out of the house and placing the heavy, unbalanced trays on the closest table he could find, not wishing to spill anything and unleash his mother’s wrath so early in the day. He let out a long sigh as he looked around at the ongoing preparations, the sun now higher in the sky and making it easier to do things under the bright light.

Too occupied with watching over everything, he hadn’t noticed a body approach him and stand by his side.

“Fred Weasley, as I live and breathe,” a soft voice caught Fred out of his daze, blinking his eyes to refocus as he looked down to face the person who had nearly startled him. 

You were standing there, hair tied back loosely and a bright smile on your face. You were wearing a light yellow sundress, a cardigan sitting on your shoulders as you held onto a small clutch purse. Though Fred didn’t know his perfumes, he could smell a sweet mixture of honey and rose coming from your direction. A smell that Fred, up until this point, never considered to be beautiful. But as he looked down at you, your expectant eyes awaiting an answer, Fred found that everything about you was beautiful. 

“Do we know each other?” Fred asked lamely, internally rolling his eyes at himself. He had a feeling that if he had seen you before, he wouldn’t have forgotten. 

Your smile changed from soft to amused, “I see I didn’t make a lasting impression,” Fred felt his own lips turn downwards into a frown as you let out a small giggle, “We went to Hogwarts together.”

He scanned you up and down trying to find anything that could spark recognition, but he failed, “Were we in the same year?”

You shook your head, “I was below you. The year below you, I mean. Not — I — you know what I meant. I’m Y/N.”

Fred felt a smile take over his face as you looked down to the ground, “It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

“Technically, we’ve met before,” you pointed out, a sly grin on your lips, “I was also there when the goblet of fire ejected you as an old man. Classic, really.”

Rubbing the back of his neck and laughing sheepishly, Fred cursed his younger self for acting like such a fool, “Not one of my brightest moments, I must admit.”

You let out a bubbly laugh and Fred swore he lost his breath.

“I found it amusing. Never dull, you two.”

A sense of pride buzzed in Fred’s chest, glad that he could make some amusing memories for you. Glad that you even remembered him. How Fred never noticed you while at school, he’ll never be able to answer.

“Well,” you adjusted your cardigan around yourself and gave him a little wave, “I’ll see you later. I’ve got to go help Fleur.”

Before he could bid you bye, you scurried off into the house. He heard you and Molly greet each other before the sound of your footsteps rushing up the stairs echoed throughout the house and through the open window.

A grin was still on Fred’s face long after you were gone. What it was about you, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t remember ever being so intrigued by a person before after such a short encounter. You had completely captivated him in the two minute conversation that was shared. Fred, who had made it this long without being in a serious relationship or committing to anyone, suddenly had an overwhelming urge to get to know you better.

—

Silent conversations bled throughout the seated crowd, everyone chatting quietly with the people around them as they awaited the ceremony to begin. Half of the people were familiar, but the other half were Fleur’s invites. People that none of the Weasley family had ever met — people who, as they scanned their surroundings, clearly still weren’t overly fond about having a wedding outside an old house in the middle of a field.

Old school friends gathered left and right, greeting each other and reminiscing about fond memories. Memories that, in this moment, felt so distant and gone. As if school was ages ago instead of only a year and a bit. A lot had changed over the course of twelve months

Without really knowing he was doing it, Fred’s bored eyes scanned the crowd, looking out for the familiar yellow dress. He had already greeted everyone that figured there was no point in getting up to talk if the ceremony was minutes away from starting.

“Looking for someone?” George poked him on the shoulder, a crooked smirk on his face. He couldn’t give a proper one — the bandage wrapped tightly around his head prevented him from doing so.

“Do you remember an Y/N when we were at Hogwarts?” Fred asked, eyes turning to his twin.

George nodded, “Yeah. Wasn’t she friends with Ginny and Luna?”

“Blimey, I need a better memory,” Fred frowned. He had never raked through his brain more than in the last hour, trying to find any sort of scrap, but had very little success.

“Why?” George wiggled his eyebrows, “Someone looking for her?”

Fred rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, not answering his brother. Not that he had the chance, really, as the scent of honey and rose filled his senses once again, your bright yellow dress catching his attention from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t even noticed the empty chair next to him, but as you took your seat there, he was thankful that it had been empty.

“Oh, hey,” you smiled, removing your cardigan and placing it on the back of your chair, “Were you saving this seat? Sorry, there’s nowhere else.”

“No,” Fred muttered quickly, “You can sit here.”

George let out a low chuckle and Fred imagined himself turning around and whacking him across the head. But, fortunately for George, the very image stayed in his mind.

The ceremony began shortly after, but Fred couldn’t focus much. Only when you nudged him in the side and told him to stand for Fleur’s entrance did he notice how zoned out he really was.

His cheeks and ears felt warm but he was lucky you didn’t notice, a wide grin on your face and your eyes slightly watery as you watched Fleur walk down the aisle, an equally happy Bill watching her every movement with such love in his eyes, even Fred couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming emotions.

They said their ‘I do’s’ and the ceremony came to a close an hour later, everyone clapping loudly.

You disappeared into the crowd and Fred made his way to the reception tent, finding his table and sitting with the rest of his siblings. The atmosphere was calm, soothing, and the music gave a pleasant echo of fun. Having not been to many weddings before — or any, really — Fred didn’t know what to expect. He thought it would be loud, chaotic, and people would be toppling over each other on the dance floor.

That, however, was not the case.

As the afternoon turned to early evening, a few couples had come and gone from the dance floor, a few meals had been eaten, and the music playlist continued to produce a good enough array of songs for Fred not to become overly bored. Molly had strongly suggested playing Celestina Warbeck and was still bitter that Fleur rejected her upfront, but she seemed to be enjoying the evening as she moved to the music on the dance floor alongside her husband.

“You gonna ask Hermione to dance?” George nudged Ron in the side, Fred chuckling at his younger brother’s clear discomfort.

Ron’s cheeks flared pink, “Blood hell, no. She’s with Krum.”

The three of them looked over to the centre of the tent where, in fact, Hermione was laughing and dancing with the Bulgarian seeker. The one that Fred had listened to Ron whine about for hours on end in his sixth year.

“Come on, Ronniekins. You could out dance him,” Fred smirked, teasing him.

Giving him the best glare he could muster, Ron grumbled, “Hope she steps on his big feet.”

Fred let out a small laugh and turned back to face the dance floor, his eyes immediately finding you. He tried telling himself it was due to your dress, but that was only because he didn’t want to admit how beautiful he found you. How he currently wanted nothing more than to rush over there and ask you to dance.

Odd, Fred thought, I’ve never wanted to dance with anyone.

“What about you Freddie?” Ron turned the attention away from him, “I see you eyeing her. Just go ask her to dance or I’ll go do it for you and I reckon I’d make it way more bloody awkward.”

Trying his best to act nonchalant, Fred grumbled, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” George’s eyes sparkled with mischief and as much as Fred usually liked that, he didn’t like it so much right now, “Then you wont mind if I go talk to her—”

“Sit down, you git,” he snapped quietly, eyes darting away from where you were standing and chatting with Luna before he glared daggers at his two sniggering brothers, “Both of you need to shut it.”

“Just go,” George said, taking a sip of firewhisky, “Someone’ll snatch your spot.”

Fred took a deep breath and stood up, wishing to get away from his idiotic family. His heart was racing against his rib cage, uneasiness and nerves spreading throughout his entire body as he slowly walked towards the floor. He stopped to look at anything and everything along the way, stalling the interaction as much as possible. Asking Angelina to the ball had been casual — he never really fancied her the way one should fancy a date. It was more of a friendly thing. But as he looked over at you, your contagious laughter reaching his ears and your cheeks slightly pink, he realized that this was so very different. So very nauseating.

“Fred,” you smiled up at him, catching Fred off guard. He hadn’t even noticed that he walked up to you, but as he heard George muttering behind him, he realized his twin probably gave him a good shove in your general direction.

“Hi,” he smiled down at you, “Hello, Luna.” He greeted your friend, who gave him a dreamy wave before stalking off through the crowd with a smile on her face.

“She’s had a lot of gigglewater,” you informed him, “Told me about seven times that she thought I looked like Pygmy puff.”

Fred found himself laughing, “I don’t think you look like one. I don’t remember Pygmy puffs being so stunning — and I’d know, Ginny had one of those little rats.”

Your eyes widened and your smiled faltered just a tad, “You think I’m stunning?”

“Yeah,” Fred suppressed his nerves the best that he could, “I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to dance.”

He saw you take a deep breath, placing your glass down on the nearest table before holding out your hand, “I’d love to.”

Your hand was warm as it laced in with his, a sudden wave of confidence flowing over him at the contact.

He led you out to the dance floor, your body close to his as you linked your arms behind his neck, his hands holding your waist. He felt his breath stutter as your fingers grazed the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, his lips curling up into a satisfied smile.

“Do you know how to dance?” you asked, looking down at your feet as you actively avoided stepping on his feet, the two of you slowly beginning to sway to the music.

“Nope,” Fred grinned, “Winging it.”

You chuckled, tossing a loose strand of hair out of your face before gazing back up at him, “Apologies in advance if I step on your feet—”

Right as you said that, Fred felt the tip of your shoe dig into the top of his foot. Your eyes shot wide open and you stepped back, tensing up.

“I am so sorry!”

Fred removed a hand from your waist and pressed it over his heart, “You wounded me, woman.”

Guilt left your face and you broke into another fit of giggles, stepping close to him once again, your hands finding their spot at the back of his neck as you muttered another apology. Fred couldn’t remember ever dancing like this with anyone before. Though you two were currently only friends — if even that — he felt like your movements were intimate, close, and he wanted to continue dancing with you until the sun was gone and rising back up again.

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, resting your head against his chest. He was tall enough that you could do so without leaning over. Fred hoped to Godric that you couldn’t hear how violently his heart was beating.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckled, the vibrations causing you to pull away and smile up at him.

He stared down into your eyes, his own face falling into a serious trance. As cliche as it was, he felt as if the two of you were alone. That the wedding had died down and the dance floor was meant for you and you alone. That no one could ruin this little moment. He could smell your intoxicating perfume and it was rendering his mind slightly blank.

Fred Weasley didn’t fall for anyone in one day. Especially someone that he had never met before. But here he was, the only thing on his mind being that he wanted to dance the night and morning away with you. That he wanted to take you to dinner. To bring you to the shop.

“Something on your mind?” you asked, a tone of inquisition in your voice as you peered up at him.

“You,” he replied, stopping in his step completely when he heard himself, “I — that came off awfully weird.”

“It came off awfully sweet,” you stopped dancing with him, smiling brightly, “For someone who doesn’t remember me, you sure seem to be warming up rather quickly. I’m not complaining, though.”

Fred had never been happier for his boldness than in this exact moment.

“Coffee?” you asked, beginning to move to the music once more, Fred following in your step. He found himself stumbling over his feet just a bit, but he played it off well enough that he was certain you hadn’t even noticed.

“I like coffee but it’s a little late now,” he smirked to himself, knowing what you meant but deciding to tease you just a tad.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, “Oi, you know what I meant.”

He chuckled, cheeks hurting from how much smiling he had done this evening, “Of course I do. But here, let me ask. Y/N, would you accompany me to dinner and coffee tomorrow night?”

You pretended to ponder, the tips of your ears slightly redder than they were a few seconds ago, “I would need to check my schedule but I believe I’m free.”

“Good,” Fred grinned, heart doing a summersault in his chest as you beamed up at him, your body pressed against his as the two of you continued to get lost in each other.

Luckily for Fred, you were too busy focused on him to notice Ron and George shooting thumbs up your way, their knowing grins taunting Fred from across the dance floor. But, as Fred looked down at you, he thought he didn’t really care.

After all, Fred Weasley has a date.

—

taglist

@grierpilots

@hxfflxpxffs

@mikumana

@msmimimerton

@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

@thoseofgreatambition

@theweasleysredhair

@haphazardhufflepuff

@almostweepingbanana

@ickle-ronniekins

@iprobablyshipit91

@wand3ringr0s3

@susceptible-but-siriusexual

@starlightweasley

@mytreec

@thisismysketchbook​

(message me to be added!)

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 2

Chapter 1

Arella sat quietly, solemnly as she held his hand. She could only watch helplessly as his brows furrowed, lost deep in another nightmare.

Why, she thought, why did this happen? How could she allow him to end up in such a bad place? Granted, they hadn’t really seen each other for over three months. That was the last time they had been intimate but even then she could tell he was distant- not present in the moment but rather just going through the motions.

After that, Mammon had started avoiding both her and his brothers like the plague. Arella began to fear he might not actually love her anymore but still kept her around as an object of his greed- no longer anything more than just a possession to be owned. The very thought was enough to break her heart as she ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner- hoping the action might quell his nightmare. It seemed to work until his hand came up to grasp her wrist and she let out a surprised gasp.

”You’re awake! Mamm-“

”Get out,” his voice was rough, scratchy almost.

Please don’t leave me.

”Huh?” Even now, when all she wanted was to be by his side, the demon was pushing her away.

”Ya deaf or somethin’?” Mammon growled, “Said get out,”

Please, figure it out. Just order me to talk and I’ll tell ya everything.

At this, Arella puffed out her cheeks in an angry pout. “No! I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on with you. You’re my boyfriend and I care about you. Your brothers and I are worried sick about you. You scared the daylights out of all of us when you collapsed at the student council meeting! I didn't want to do this but Mammon, I'm ordering you to tell me what happened to lead you to this point."

And there it was. The one thing he's been waiting for all these months. The gag order had been lifted and now he could tell her- tell them all what the witches had done.

"I was raped! More than once!" His voice cracked with unshed tears. "They used the pact so they could tie me down and used it ta keep me from struggling w-while they- they-" He couldn't finish his sentence. All the shame and guilt he felt from the past year came rushing back and hit him like a hurricane. "A-An' then they forced me to stay quiet. I couldn't tell anyone. T-they wanted a kid outta me. Part of me thinks they might've gotten what they wanted too."

Arella's jaw dropped at the confession. She couldn't believe what she just heard- not because she didn't believe Mammon, no, what Arella couldn't believe that a pact-master would dare to cross such a boundary. She ran to him, the sobbing, broken, victim and embraced him tightly as he pressed his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder, hot tears dampening the fabric of her uniform shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Treasure! I tried so hard to fight 'em off but I just- I wasn't strong enough!"

"No... No, Love, don't apologize. You did your best. They abused the pact. There was nothing you could have done." She started to rock him as she shushed him, her own tears to spill over.

"I feel so horrible! So dirty an' disgusting. I can't even look myself in the mirror! What kind of demon am I? I’m supposed ta be the Avatar of Greed- the second strongest outta the seven of us- and I can’t even fend off three human witches?! Y’all should he ashamed of me for bein’ so weak…”

”Mammon, I’m not ashamed of you. They took advantage of your trust. It wasn’t your fault. You set a boundary and they overs stepped it. I just wish I would have made you talk sooner…” Arella turned her head to place a kiss to his temple. “Its going to be okay. Come what may, the eight of us get through this together. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore, alright?”

The demon only nodded as he allowed the human to guide him onto his back. “Will you stay with me?” He asks, voice strained and tired. “I don’t… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, I will.” She nodded as she started to play with his hair in attempt to relax him enough to fall alseep. “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

—————————————————————

The brothers sat silently as Asmo’s words hung over them like a heavy cloud.

”Are you absolutely sure that’s what happened, Asmodeus?” Lucifer asks just barely able to mask the horror written on his face.

”As much as I wish it weren’t the case, after considering the abrupt change in personality, the isolation, the nightmares, the staying out with them all night- I’d be willing to bet my title on it….” The Avatar of Lust had an serious expression on his face as he spoke. As far as the not eating goes, it could be a form of self harm he doesn’t think we’re noticing. I’ve seen this all too often to not know and I don’t know why it never clicked sooner.”

”But why didn’t he tell us?!” Levi exclaimed, “I thought we were past all this?”

”You can’t even begin to understand the shame that comes with rape, Levi…” The strawberry blonde demon frowned. “And for somebody like Mammon, who’s image is everything to him, it can be very difficult to accept what happened or ask for help or even come forward in the first place.”

”So it’s about his pride essentially?” Beel asked with a confused look on his face.

”I don’t think that’s the case actually,” Satan quipped as he stroked his chin contemplatively. “I’ve been watching Mammon more closely for a few weeks now… whenever Arella attempts to talk to him about what’s been happening, he has this look on his face. Like he wants to say something but can’t so he just deflects the question but it got me thinking… What if he really can’t say anything about this to anyone?”

“So you’re implying Mammon had a gag order on him?” The Avatar of Sloth sat up, full attention on his brother.

At this Lucifer stood from the table abruptly. All he saw was red while his brothers shrank back at the rage rolling off him. They hadn’t seen him this wrathful since the fall- since Satan’s birth.

“I’ll be leaving to the Demon Lord’s castle,” the Avatar of Pride announced as he made his way out. “Don’t wait up.”

He would be followed by the sixth and the fourth, leaving the other three to figure out a way to best comfort the second-born now that they had figured out the truth.

—————————————————————

Arella was coming down to the kitchen. She felt sick with anger ever since she found out what happened to Mammon. They had all missed dinner that night, too preoccupied with the Avatar of Greed’s condition to even consider dinner plans.

As she entered the kitchen, she almost ran smack dab into the Avatar of Envy.

“Oh gosh, Levi. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“No its okay. How’s Mammon doing? Is he awake?”

Arella nodded. “He woke up a few hours ago but I’ve been trying to get him to go back to sleep and stay asleep for longer than 30 minutes… He says he hasn’t eaten in a few days so I figured getting some food in him will help him sleep better.”

Levi perked up instantly. “Let me help you! What are you planning to make?”

“I was just going to make those cup noodles you brother likes. I don’t want to be away too long. Also, do you know where Lucifer is? I was able to make Mammon talk and I have to tell Lucifer what happened right away.”

”He went to the Demon Lord’s castle to see Diavolo. We- well it was mostly Asmo- figured out what happened. I haven’t seen Lucifer this upset and angry since the fall.”

Arella let out a small sigh of relief. At least those horrible women were going to get what was coming to them. “You know, instead of helping me make dinner for him, why don’t you go and keep Mammon company instead? He didn’t really seem too keen on being alone so I’m sure he would appreciate the company.”

She gave an encouraging smile as Levi nodded, heading off to see his brother as Arella got dinner ready for the white haired demon.

Next

Masterlist 2

[ephemereos]

Indulging further into the hyperfixation with another kawoshin au.

Farmer Shinji x Alien Kaworu

Accidentally set it in america dhjbfjke both of them are between 18 and 20, didn't really think of a precise age.

As for warnings, mentions of torture in regards to Kaworu's past, but nothing too graphic, I'm not going into detail.

In this au I came up with absolutely for like pure self indulgence, Kaworu is an alien who ran to Earth to take shelter from an invasion happening on his planet. They are humanoid aliens, with extremely high empathy and abilities to understand other living beings' emotions perfectly. They are a pacifist race, reason why they were so easily invaded, as their defenses were low. Kaworu's safety spaceship crashes on earth, getting the attention of the authorities and he's immediately brought into a government research lab. Kaji works as a guard there and can't stand the thought of a living, breathing being getting tortured and experimented on. Especially when it looks so much like a human. The research facility had never done experiments on living beings, they mostly focused on rocks, plants, other matter that seemed to come from outer space and that needed analysis.

Kaji decides to break Kaworu free, creating a foolproof plan beforehand, taking multiple weeks. He has the sympathy of other guards and workers from the facily, who too empathise with the alien, deeply upset at how he’s being treated. Kaji’s able to break Kaworu free, getting him into his car and then speeding away to the safety of his small house in a rural town in the middle of the countryside.

The first thing he does it patch Kaworu up: bandage his cuts from the vivisection, cover hos bruies from the blood withdrawals with cream. He becomes Kaworu’s surrogate father, constantly making sure to tend to his wounds while he’s recovering, the boy spending a few days of total moping around between Kaji’s guest bed and the couch because he is just so exhausted and in pain from the experiments. When Kaji is working he alternates naps to watching tv, curious about human entertainment. He loves animal documentaries or historical ones. Once a few days have passed and he seems to be doing better, as well as Kaji being sure no one is onto him, the man decides to take him for a small ride to his trusted farm where he gets fresh produce, wanting Kaworu to get some fresh air and having promised he’d let him see cows in real life.

Shinji finished Highschool and, unlike his parents had thought, he has no desire to go to university. The school years have exhausted him to the point that the thought of more studying makes him sick. So over the summer, while his parents travel around the country for their job as researchers, he started working at his aunt Misato’s farm, taking quite a liking to it. He likes staying with the animals, tending to the plants. It’s tiring, but he enjoys it and makes him feel alive. Kaji is a regular and always welcome at the farm.

Kaji prked his car near the cows before going to Misato to ask for what he needed. Shinji is the one who had to bring the produce to his car while Kaji and Misato chat. What Shinji didn’t expect to see was an albino boy looking at the cows with the eye sparkles a little kid would have. The boy is quite cheerful and friendly; he asks for Shinji’s name as well as the cows’. What unsettles Shinji the most is seeing all his bruises and bandages: around his hands, his arms, his neck even. When Kaji comes around he pats Kaworu on th3 shoulder, saying it’s his nephew visiting him. Shinji immediately thinks abuse is going on. He doesn’t want to make a scene, nor is he sure of his suspicions, so he keeps quiet and watches the two go away.

The following day Shinji decides to take his bike and go to Kaji's place, using excuse that he forgot a bag of apples and needs to deliver it to him to get the address out of Misato. He bikes to his house, walking quietly around it to peer inside and see if the albino boy is there.

"I didn't expect to see you around the house."

Shinji almost shits himself. The boy is behind him, calm as he can be, smiling at the brunette. Kaworu invites Shinji inside and an awkward conversation starts, Shinji worried sick and trying to understand if Kaji is the one at fault for Kaworu's wounds. Kaworu quickly picks up where Shinji is going and reassures him that no, it wasn't Kaji and he would never do anything like that to him. Shinji is relieved, but not completely, still anxious to understand who might have hurt the other boy that bad. Kaworu takes a while, his high empathy analyzing Shinji and his behaviours in an attempt to understand if he's completely safe as he seems or not. Eventually, Kaworu decides to tell him the truth, making Shinji promise to not tell anyone else.

Shinji ends up hanging out with Kaworu all day, now curious to understand the other, until Kaji comes home and chaos ensues. He’s mad at Kaworu for exposing them and possibly putting them at risk, but when Kaworu tells him his reasons and that he thought that maybe, having allies in the city would help them, Kaji calms down and realizes that having a bit of support might not hurt. He talks to Misato, explains the situation and she’s surprisingly very calm about it. She tells Kaji that, if he’s worried, he could leave Kaworu with them during the day as he works. The farm is in the countryside, it’s quite isolated and Kaworu would be safe there.

Until Kaworu’s wounds are fully healed, Misato only asks him to keep an eye on the cattle or feed the chickens, trying to keep his labour to a minimum to avoid opening up his wounds again. After that he helps shinji in the fields and doing other things that might be more tiring. The two grow a lot closer, goofing around on their spare time, Shinji sometimes taking Kaworu to arcades in the evening, having him wear a big goodie with the hood pulled up so that he won’t be easily spotted as an outsider.

Their peace is soon broken as Kaji starts suspecting that the facility might be onto them and he tries to find a solution. He can’t run away with Kaworu, he would immediately become suspicious and be tracked down. So Shinji offers to take Kaworu away. He has money put aside for what was supposed to be his university fund. He has a van his parents got him instead of a car because he wanted to be able to drive but also help Misato with deliveries and such. He and Kaworu quickly pack their things, leaving instructions to Misato as to what to say to his parents in case they call her and ask about him, instead of calling him directly, and then they run off, stopping in a city farther from their own to buy supplies to modify the van, turning it into a livable space.

They keep travelling, only stopping for very short periods of time and picking up short jobs like dog sittinng and lawn mowing to avoid spending all of the money saved (it’s quite a bit but they have no idea how long they’ll be on the run and want to avoid tricky situations). Kaworu gets to see the world, the beauty of nature and many different people and Shinji gets out of his comfort zone too.

They grow closer with each day, especially considering there is only one bed. But they soon don’t mind at all and all embarrassment is gone. Sometimes Shinji stays up longer, and stares at Kaworu’s scars, feeling a pit in hos stomach at the thought of what could have happened if Kaji hadn’t intervened. Kaworu, being a creature based on empathy, can feel Shinji’s emotions crystal clear even in his sleep and wraps his arms around Shinji in an attempt to soothe him. It works every time, with Shinji curling in closer to Kaworu and calming down, eventually falling asleep to the other’s heartbeat.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

An old friend - Part 3

Summary: The picnic has come and so the time to face Anthony on what you discovered, but will everything go as planned?

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Other characters: Hyachint Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington

Words: 3.0k+

Warnings: slight angst (?), fluff, again some yearning

A/n: This has been quite difficult to finish, I had different ends in mind but none seemed to fit well the flow... I hope you’ll like this! Also, I may post other parts in the future but for now, count this as the final one. ENJOY!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Gif's not mine, credit to the rightful owner

When the time came to attend the picnic in Hyde Park, the day was nothing but perfect: the sun, for the special gathering, had decided to come out of the clouds to honor everyone with its presence and a warm breeze enveloped every figure walking through the gardens or simply resting on the grass with its embrace. Even the London sky didn’t look like its normal self, with no grey clouds all over; just a few white stripes painting the bright blue canva. In other words, the epitome of a summer day.

However, sat under the gazebo playing cards with Hyacinth, Eloise and Penelope, you felt much worse than a rabbit caught under the wheel of a carriage.

"Miss Y/N/L". You turned towards Hyacinth, who was pointing at the cards. "It's your turn"

"Very well..." you sighed, throwing in the space between the four of you the first card that came in your hand. Winning the game was the least of your problems.

You had spent all night rolling from one side of your bed to the other, playing and replaying every possible scenario in your head, looking for the right way to ask Anthony what you wanted to know without sounding too accusatory. Nevertheless, it was hard to face the man when he was nowhere to be found!

He had just a moment to greet you with a quick kiss on your hand - which, you couldn't help, had made your heartbeat rise as a river during a flood - before being taken hostage first of many beautiful debutants, second of their meddlesome mothers and lastly of some old friends from boarding school.

Right now he was somewhere in the park with them, possibly reminiscing of that one time they put black ink in the professor's shoes... or something similar to that, you imagined. You weren't so sure of what sort of jests could boys come up with.

"Miss Y/N/L". Hyacinth's voice reached you again through the bubble of your thoughts. You put down another card. It took you a second after that to realize that Eloise had no cards in her hands anymore, thus making her the winner.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry" you apologised, putting your left cards back in the deck. "I hope you didn't ask me anything while I was lost in my mind"

"Just if you were alright, miss" explained Penelope. "Did you sleep well last night? You look quite tired"

You sighed. There was no sense in keeping that a secret. "Not quite. Some matters just seemed to be stuck in my head and decided not to leave for the night"

Eloise's eyes sparked in interest. "What kind of matters?" she asked, eating a strawberry.

"Nothing relevant at all" you assured with a smile, but from the look on Eloise's face, you knew she wasn't finished asking.

"No irrelevant matter could keep anyone awake for an entire night" she pointed out. "But I know what matters could..."

Penelope sighed. "Eloise..."

"Family matters" she started, raising her index, "and heart matters". She bent slightly towards you with the Bridgertons' signature smile on. "Which does apply to you?"

You scoffed. "Neither, of course". As you lowered your gaze to the messy deck, the rays of the sun felt suddenly more focused on your face than on anyone else's.

"Heart matters, that is!" Eloise exclaimed with a single clap, her eyes smiling brighter than her grin. "Do we know the lucky gentleman who caught your eye? Or perhaps he is from the countryside? Don’t tell me: are you two secretly engaged?"

Before your cheeks became the same shade of wine, a deep voice intruded the conversation: "You shouldn't badger our guest with your inquisitiveness, Eloise"

Your head shot up to meet Anthony's gaze. Even though your feelings towards him were mixed at the moment, seeing him washed you over with a warm, soothing sensation, as the need of his touch grew within you.

Eloise huffed, standing up from her seat, immediately followed by miss Featherington. "You are a bore, dear brother. I have nothing else to say on this matter". Then, taking Penelope's arm in hers, she walked away, already whispering in her best friend's ear.

"Anthony, do you want to play with us?" asked Hyacinth, already preparing the deck for another round.

Anthony smiled gently at her. "Maybe later" he said, pinching lightly her cheek. "Why don't you go play with Gregory now? I've heard he wanted to see if he could find rabbits near the bushes... or perhaps even goblins"

Hyacinth gasped. "Without me?!". She quickly and clumsily got up in her dress and, after a small curtsey to you, she was running on the grass to who-knows-where.

Now that the cover was clear, Anthony laid down next to you, pointing his elbow on the ground to keep himself up. After adjusting in a comfortable position, he sighed, looking in the direction in which Hyacinth ran off.

"Should you think she'd be angry to find out I lied to her?"

You smirked, taking a card from the deck and fidgeting it in your hands. "About Gregory or the goblins?"

Anthony turned to you, raising his eyebrows. "Both?"

You shook your head, giggling ever so slightly. "You, Lord Bridgerton, are incorrigible: lying like this to your youngest sister... what a rascal"

A corner of his lips tilted upwards. "You should not talk like this to a viscount, miss Y/L/N" he murmured. His hand moved to your arm, his fingers stroking your bare skin, lighter than a feather touch and equally tingling. "I would say it was quite improper"

At this words you moved away from him, just enough so that his fingers could only touch the empty space between you. He searched your face but you were still staring at your card.

"I believe we should talk, my lord” you said, your voice still and steady more than what you expected. “However...", you looked at Benedict and Colin, who had just appeared in your sight and were directed towards the gazebo, "...maybe a walk would be best suited for such matters"

Even with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Anthony nodded, standing up again and offering his hand to help you. You gently accepted and he pulled you up. Nonetheless your feet got caught in the cover, making you lose your balance and ending up in his arms.

"I-I'm terribly sorry" you muttered, raising your gaze to his and finding him already staring at you. The warmth of his hands, steadying you, got past your gloves terribly easily and you found that being there, pressed against his chest, so near to his heart, was the only place were you wanted to be.

You took a couple of steps back, smoothing your wrinkled dress and taking a deep breath in. His closeness was like opium to you: even the slightest hint and you lost your mind; and unfortunately right now, you had to be present.

He cleared his voice, handing politely his arm to you. "Shall we go?". You nodded joining your arms and moved with him on the beaten pathway.

A few minutes passed in complete silence, as you tried to find the right words to start. Apart from sporadic pairs walking the opposite direction, you were the only ones strolling in the park at that time of the day, when the sun shines so bright it could make the blood in your veins boil; only birds kept uninterrupted their concert.

"Are you upset because I didn’t honor you with my presence all morning?" guessed Anthony, raising his eyebrows. “Trust me, I would’ve gladly spent more time with you than with any of my other acquaintances”

You shook your head, a smile gracing your face. "Certainly not, my lord: your family was very kind to me in your absence" you assured him. "Besides I'm not upset... I just want answers to what I've heard"

"And what, pray tell, have you heard?"

You moved your gaze from his; there was no way to sweeten the pot. "I've heard that, in certain circles, you are considered a rake; and" you added, before he could stop you, "that you've been spending time with various women last season, opera singers from what these rumours told me"

"And you believe these rumours, miss Y/L/N?". His voice didn't show any emotions but his muscles were tense as an arp string.

"That is why I'm asking you, my lord. I wish to believe it a lie, but your actions yesterday, as appreciated, had boldness in them... quite like Sir Feversham's"

Anthony stopped in the middle of the path, his jaw clenched. "Don't compare him to me, I am nothing like him”. His dark eyes seemed coal ready to be set on fire. “I would've never forced you into anything-"

"I know". You squeezed gently his arm against your side. "I know that, Anthony. Nonetheless, I’ve been wondering since last night if you consider me just as one of those opera singers and you’ll leave me alone like you did to them: my honor undermined and a broken heart to fix..."

"Do you really think I would do something like that?"

You raised your eyes to meet his. The lump in your throat, seeing the hurt look on his face, triplicated. "Haven't you done it before?"

Anthony clenched his jaw again, avoiding your gaze. Many emotions crossed his eyes before he closed them for a moment. Then, after giving a quick look all around, he started guiding you towards an almost hidden path through the hedges.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, confused and slightly frightened by the sudden change of course.

He glanced towards you with his lips curved. "You did want answers, didn't you?". When you nodded, Anthony slid his hand in yours. "Then there is absolutely no need to worry, miss Y/L/N, I can assure you that" he whispered, preceding you in that natural maze.

As you followed him, jumping over ponds of mud, protruding roots and avoiding overhanging branches, it felt for a moment like you were back in one of the fantasies you two came up with as kids, exploring the deep amazonian jungle in search of a lost civilisation or a hidden temple behind a waterfall; you couldn't believe they belonged to such a long time ago...

The hedges surrounding you ended abrubtly, opening on a clearing that looked like an illustration from a storybook: the grass, kept perfectly cut in the rest of the park, reached knee height there and, in between the stems, flowers popped out in the vivid green, their bright colours catching your eye.

However what left you mouth agape was the modest pavilion in the centre. Its classic columns, with ivy crawling around them, had almost invisible cracks on their surface, and the marble, if once polished, was now covered with a thick layer of dust and dead leaves. Still, even so neglected, its ruined beauty left you speechless.

"How... how did you manage to find this place?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers caressing the tall grass as you approached the pavilion.

"In the most common and simple way”. At your confused glance, he smiled mischievously. “Hiding from my mother"

“You even hid from your mother, my lord?” you smirked.

“Everything to escape her matchmaking schemes” Anthony laughed before a sad smile appeared on his lips. “Nevertheless, it was years ago, when I was still allowed to act as a foolish young man, from time to time”. He left your hand and started unbuttoning his tailcoat.

As he took it off to put it on the marble bench, your gaze wandered on his shoulders and down his arms, framed by his tight waistcoat and usually concealed under that thick layer of blue velvet.

"Shall we start?" he asked, gesturing for you to sit next to him.

You took a seat and noticed how Anthony was wringing his hands, his body again all tensed up. Without uttering a word - it was his time to speak - you took his hand in yours, stroking your gloved thumbs on his skin.

"I must say" he started, "that the market’s gossip is quite accurate... but still not enough to be a reliable source” - then, after a sigh - “because yes, I am a rake - or at least I can be consirered one - and yes, I spent most of last season at the opera house. However, unlike what those women told you, my only company was one beautiful and indipendent lady, whose name I’d rather keep unknown"

He looked at you, almost asking for your permission. "Of course, my lord, I understand". Anthony nodded thankfully before letting his tongue on the loose.

He told you everything you needed to know, his gaze fixed on nothing, eyes lost in memories that you could only try to picture in your head. Every emotion he’d felt in the past crossed his face as he spoke of every step of the affair, from their first meeting to their very last goodbye. You saw how difficult was for him to remember that latter part, even though months had passed since then. After all, no love can ever be truly forgotten.

"Looking back, I’ve realized only recently that she broke my heart just as much as I broke hers" he admitted, his gaze falling on your joined hands. “She deserved much better than the transitory pleasure I was able to give her... I still slightly regret what we could’ve been, but there’s no use in mourning the past”. He stroked gently the palm of your hand. “I’ve found the present to be an unexpected and more appreciated bearer of happiness”

You blushed as his eyes set on you, a welcome sincerity lighting them. However, there was still something, in a deep corner of your mind, that wouldn't let you enjoy the moment completely.

"Thank you for telling me all about it, Anthony" you said, watching him trace abstract figures on your hand. "But I do have one last question"

He moved your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on your covered wrist and lingering with his lips on that small spot. "You can ask me anything, Y/N"

After a deep breath, you fixed your eyes in his. "What am I to you?"

He furrowed his brows, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"I do believe you fancy me" you started, looking away and fidgeting your hands as you spoke, "but I can't quite understand if your intentions with me are honorable or if you're simply using my company to your likings"

Anthony shook his head. “That’s nonsense, I would never-”

"Then do you intend to propose to me?" you asked, a rush of boldness flowing in your veins. “You know me, more deeply than any man I’ve ever met, and I found myself drawn to you in a way I’ve never experienced before... and I believe you feel the same”. He stared at you in silence. "I thought you wanted to marry as soon as you found a suitable lady..." you added, his stillness making your heart ache. "Am I not enough to be your wife?"

"Don't". Anthony cupped your face, his hands warm on your skin. "Do not say something like that ever again. You are not only more than enough, but more than I could've ever hoped to find... your intelligence astounds me just as much as your beauty hypnotizes me and I do believe you shall become one of the most accomplished Viscountess of Bridgerton that ever walked this Earth"

As his words beat in your mind ritmically with the pounding of your heart, you held your breath. "...but?"

"But I've rushed things in the past and burned everything I'd built to the ground, myself included. I don't want to make any mistakes with you, and if that means doing things properly, then be it". He stroked your cheek gently and you unconsciously leaned in his touch. "I've lost you once and I surely shall not make the same mistake twice"

You smiled, tears menacing to roll down your cheeks at any moment.

"Don't cry" he whispered, leaving a light kiss on your forehead and you laughed. His lips were as soft as you pictured them in your dreams.

"Don't mind my wet eyes... I'm just- I've never felt this happy before"

He smiled, placing one hand on yours. "Let's hope this will never change then". You nodded, smiling even wider.

So, as the sun went down and the wind kept blowing, you stayed there, talking, laughing, making up for all the lost time, in that little clearing out of time, and you wished you could stay there forever...

“We should go now” Anthony got up from its place. “It’s getting dark”

Making your way back in the reality it felt like waking up from a long, sweet dream, one that makes you wish you could sleep forever.

Your carriage was already waiting you at the edge of the park. Anthony helped you get into it as the gentleman he was. “Goodnight, miss Y/L/N”

“Goodnight, Lord Bridgerton” you smiled down at him, your hand still in his. “And thank you for the wonderful day”

He smirked and kissed your knuckles lightly, lingering again on the same spot where he kissed you for the first time. “The pleasure was all mine, my lady. I shall see you soon”

“Of course” you whispered not capable of even breathing. Anthony smiled, letting go of your hand as a footboy closed the door of the carriage. Then the coachman incited the horses and you were off in the night.

Resting on the soft pillows inside, you sighed, your eyes fixed on the stars outside the window. “Until next time”

Tag list: @lady1505 @truly-insatiable @littlemissbridgerton @anthonybridgertonsmistress​ @chaoticgirl04 @xceafh @latekate1807 @peoniarose @bridg-09 @michael-loves-chickens​ @beckachicago3​ (tell me if you want to be added or removed💗)

[specialagentsergio]

only if you knew

summary: Spencer’s in love with you, but you’re in love with Emily.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: description of a panic attack, mentions of bullying and homophobia, swearing

a/n: my take on a fic inspired by heather by conan grey. writing is a hobby i've had for years, but this is the first time i've posted any of it. i hope you enjoy it.

a/n 2: bi!reader, fem!reader bc emily is a lesbian

word count: 3.5k

song: heather by conan grey

series masterlist || masterlist

Spencer isn’t looking for a relationship when he meets you. He wants a relationship someday, but he likes his life the way it is for now. He doesn’t want it to change yet. He thinks that’s why it took him so long to realize he was in love with you.

You join the team a few weeks after Rossi does. Hotch has been wanting to add another profiler to the unit for a while. The fiasco with Gideon’s loss of Sarah and subsequent disappearance, then Emily’s sudden resignation, finally convinces the board that it might not be a bad idea to have more than five profilers on the team.

Morgan and Hotch already know you. You come from the sex crimes unit, and the BAU had worked a case with them a month before he joined. You were just an agent trainee at the time, but Hotch saw promise in you, and has kept an eye on your work ever since. (Spencer wonders how he never ran into you at the academy; you’re only a year older than him and you both joined the Bureau in 2003. Eventually he realizes it’s because you weren’t remediated.)

Despite an awkward introduction (he gives you his spiel about handshakes and how it’s safer to kiss, and you respond with, well, if you insist, prompting laughter from Morgan and Prentiss, and leaving him at a loss for words as his face turns red), you quickly become friends. Your mutual love of reading is how you initially connect. Then he notices you only ever cut off his infodumping when you’re working on a case, and it’s always with a gentle, “redirect, Spence.” Outside of work, you seem genuinely interested in what he has to say, even going so far as to follow up on things you had to interrupt earlier.

You also bond over your shared love of Doctor Who, and begin to join him at Penelope’s place each time a new episode airs. It’s not long before he considers you his best friend.

Spencer tells you things he rarely puts a voice to. He tells you about his kidnapping and subsequent Dilaudid problem (he still struggles to call it what he knows it was—an addiction) after the South Padre Island case, when he doesn’t pick up on Adam’s dissociative identity disorder until it’s just a bit too late.

On the one year anniversary of his solving of the Riley Jenkins case, he recounts what happened the day his dad left in a wavering voice and you run your hand up and down his back when he cries.

He even tells you about the goalpost incident and the real motivation behind that act of bullying, a detail he omitted when he told Morgan about it. (He didn’t have a crush on Alexa Lisben, the prettiest girl in school. He had a poorly concealed crush on the football team’s quarterback.)

You also open up to him in a way you seldom do to anyone. You tell him about the bullying you experienced in high school over your shared sexuality. You tell him about the worst cases you saw in the sex crimes unit, and on a day when you’re struggling, you tell him what the worst day of your life was.

He’s had great friends before, and still does, but he’s never had one quite like you.

Spencer can’t say what the moment he fell in love with you was. He can’t pinpoint when your friendship became something more to him. But he knows the moment he realized he was in love, and he doesn’t need an eidetic memory to recall it perfectly.

It’s such a small thing, nothing big and grand like film and literature portray. He’s showed up to the roundtable with a new haircut. Hotch asks him if he’s joined a boyband, which he doesn’t quite get, but Morgan finds very amusing. You catch up to him on his way out of the bullpen and say, “I liked your hair long, but it looks great like this, too.”

That’s when he knows.

The realization is like a punch to the gut, yet it’s not unpleasant. His world feels turned upside down, but upside down is looking like a fine place to be.

And you just carry on like nothing’s happened, like you haven’t just irreversibly changed his life with twelve words.

---

Spencer spends a few weeks sitting with this new information, mulling over his feelings and weighing his options.

Does he tell you he loves you? The FBI holds annual seminars discouraging fraternization between employees, but it’s mostly aimed towards preventing relationships between supervisors and their subordinates. There’s nothing in the regulations preventing two agents in the same standing from dating (which he knows because he’s read the entire handbook). A visit to HR and a form filed away makes that perfectly acceptable.

But as much as he wants to be with you, he’s terrified of losing your friendship. It’s one of the most important things in his life. If he confesses and you don’t return his feelings, it very well could ruin it. Things would never be the same between the two of you again. He can hardly tolerate the thought of that.

He has everything to lose, yet also everything to gain.

All of his speculation is operating under the assumption that you’re single, but he’s confident in that. You tell each other everything—there’s no way you wouldn’t mention seeing someone. You’ve always told him about any dates you’ve gone on in the past. And if, for some reason, you’d keep it a secret, he’s a profiler. He studies human behavior. He’d notice something going on.

Spencer finds out he’s wrong in what he thinks must be the worst possible way, because you don’t tell him yourself. He finds out you’re taken by accident.

It’s only a few weeks after JJ’s forced departure. They’ve just wrapped up a case in Connecticut, and Hotch postpones their flight home to the next morning so they can all get some solid rest after a grueling three days. Rossi offers to take them out for dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, and everyone takes him up on it.

You and Emily excuse yourselves a bit earlier than normal, but he knows he’s not the only one hurting over JJ, so he chalks it up to that. He finds himself following suit not even five minutes later when he fails to stifle his seventh yawn of the night. He steps off the elevator to the fifth floor and hears some quiet giggling from down the hall, but doesn’t think anything of it, just heads towards the room he’s sharing with Derek. It’s the door right after the one leading to the room you’re sharing with Emily, so there’s no way for him to avoid seeing what breaks his heart.

Emily has her hands on your waist as she presses your back against the door. You’re trying to scan the keycard and open the door from behind, a task you’re struggling with because she won’t stop kissing you.

Spencer freezes, his own keycard dropping from his fingers onto the plush carpet.

“Emily, Emily,” you whisper against her lips, trying and failing to suppress your laughter. “You have to let me open the door.”

“Mmm, fine,” she relents with an exaggerated sigh. She presses a kiss to your nose before taking a small step back so you can turn and scan the card.

Your eyes leave Emily’s face and land on his. You just stare at each other for a moment, unmoving.

Emily notices, of course, and asks you, “what’s wrong, baby?” before following your gaze to him.

That finally snaps Spencer out of his daze and he blurts out, “Sorry!” His voice cracks and he clears his throat as he bends down to pick his keycard back up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to, to—disturb you. I’m just, just really tired and I’m gonna go to bed now.” He keeps his eyes on the carpet as he passes by the two of you, ignoring you when you say his name.

“Reid—” Emily starts, but he’s already letting the heavy door fall shut behind him and pressing his back against it. His breathing is shaky and he grips the strap of his satchel tightly. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights—he knows they’d be too much right now—and starts to sway from side to side in an attempt to self-soothe.

It doesn’t work, so he begins pacing across the room, back and forth and back and forth until he stumbles over Derek’s go bag and any semblance of control he had breaks. His tie feels too tight and the way his bag is thumping against his thigh as he walks is maddening. He pushes his satchel off of his body as fast as he can, then claws at the knot of his tie, pulling on it until it’s loose enough to slide off over his head. He throws it across the room.

He starts pacing again, unable to stop one of his hands from flapping as his breathing grows erratic. He trips over Derek’s bag again and kicks it in retaliation, just barely holding back a shriek of frustration and agony and panic because oh god oh god I can’t breathe it’s all too much, too much, I can’t breathe.

Spencer can’t breathe because he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, and you don’t love him back.

---

He loses time.

It happens, sometimes, when he has a shutdown.

One moment he’s pacing across the hotel room floor, trying in vain to catch his breath, and the next he’s letting out an involuntary whine when the room lights turn on. Whoever flipped the switch turns them back off immediately.

Slowly, Spencer comes back to himself.  

He’s sitting on one of the beds, hugging a pillow to his chest as he rocks back and forth. His back thumps lightly against the headboard with each motion. He can breathe again, but they’re the wobbling breathes that come after crying. He touches his face and it feels wet.

“Reid.”

It’s a whisper from across the room, and he tenses on instinct.

“Reid, it’s Morgan,” it continues, and Spencer relaxes. He recognizes his friend’s voice now. He makes a small humming noise to indicate that he’s listening.

His eyes have adjusted to the dark now and he can see the vague shape of Morgan walk forward and sit on the bed across from his. “Are you okay, kid?”

Spencer’s breath hitches as he tries to respond. “I.... no,” he whispers. He hasn’t remembered what happened yet—something else that can happen when he spirals—but he feels all hollowed out inside, like someone has scooped out everything that’s him and left behind only a deep, aching pain in their wake.

“What happened?” Morgan asks quietly.

“What happened,” Spencer repeats under his breath. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes as he thinks. What happened.  What happened, Spencer?

“You left dinner,” Morgan prompts. “You said you were tired and were going to go to bed.”

That’s right. He left the table and headed to the elevator. Got off on the fifth floor. Walked down the hallway to their room and found—

It comes back in a rush, without warning.

You’re laughing as Emily kisses you, the hand not struggling with your keycard tangled in her hair. Emily places an affectionate kiss on your nose when she pulls away. You freeze when you see him, and Emily calls you baby.

The memory takes his breath away again, and he feels hot tears falling down his cheeks.

“Reid, Reid.” Morgan’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Stay with me. You’re okay, kid. You’re okay.”

All Spencer can do is shake his head, because he’s not okay, he’s so terribly far away from okay right now.

“Tell me what happened, kid,” Morgan urges. “Then I can help you.”

Spencer lets out a humorless laugh. Can’t Morgan see that there’s nothing he can do, can’t he see that Spencer’s in a thousand pieces on the floor? “You can’t help me,” he says, his voice hoarse from countless tears he doesn’t remember shedding.

“You don’t know that. How about you tell me what’s wrong, and then I can decide?”

“No, I do know that, Morgan,” he snaps. His rational brain recognizes that he’s acting out, that Morgan doesn’t deserve his anger; he’s not who Spencer’s actually angry at. But his emotional brain is the one running the show right now, so he continues, “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?” Morgan asks calmly. He’s keeping his cool, trying to deescalate the situation, and that makes Spencer even more upset. He doesn’t want to calm down, he can’t calm down, not when his world is falling apart.

“Did you know that Emily and (Y/N) are—are fucking?” he spits out. He can’t bring himself to say that you’re in love, despite the fact that the way you were looking at Emily can’t mean anything other than that.

“I... No, I didn’t, Reid,” Morgan replies. He’s not lying, but Spencer almost wishes he was, just so he could have someone to yell at right now. “Why is that upsetting for you?”

Spencer doesn’t answer. He’d never admitted his feelings about you out loud before, not even to himself, and he sure as hell won’t do it now. He knows the moment Morgan figures it out, because he can hear him sigh.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he says. “I know how you feel.”

“Oh, right,” he scoffs. “Derek Morgan, god’s gift to women, knows how I feel right now.”

“Come on, Reid. Being able to leave a bar with someone on my arm doesn’t make me immune to the pain of liking someone who doesn’t like me back.” Derek’s voice is gentle, so much more gentle than he deserves right now, considering all Spencer’s done since he stepped foot in their room is lash out at him.

“I don’t like her, Morgan,” he says quietly. “I love her.”

Derek doesn’t say anything for a while. He doesn’t try and reassure him that he’s okay, that he’ll get over it. He doesn’t use that awful line of there’s plenty of fish in the sea. He just sits in silence with him. It’s exactly what Spencer needs. He doesn’t know how Morgan knows this when he didn’t himself.

Derek always seems to just know.

---

The morning comes before he’s ready to face it.

He wakes up to the sound of the shower running. His head hurts and his eyes feel puffy and sore. A beam of light is cutting through a gap in the curtains, landing on his face.

Spencer rolls over in bed and curls in on himself as his memories from the night before catch up to him. He stays like that, a lump under the covers, until Morgan comes out of the bathroom freshly showered.

“Hey, kid,” he says. “You awake?”

Spencer just grunts in response, unwilling to do anything that isn’t staying wrapped up in this cocoon of blankets. You’ve always called him a “Spencerrito” when he does this. He pretends to hate the nickname, but really, he finds it endearing. Now, though, it just hurts.

Any thought of you and the little things you do, the special things you do, the things that make butterflies sprout in his stomach, things that just yesterday made him feel warm inside, now make him ache all over.

“The jet’s set to take off in about an hour,” Morgan tells him. “If you don’t wanna fly, we can drive back together.”

The offer is tempting; spending an hour in close quarters with you and Emily knowing what he knows now, is not his idea of a good time. But he knows what he has to do. He’s known from the moment he saw the way you looked at Emily last night.

About a year ago, you’d come to his apartment on a Saturday night, looking truly downtrodden. You had been on a date, but it didn’t go well. “I’m scared I’ll never find someone,” you’d confided in him, your eyes filling with tears. “What if there’s no one out there for me, Spence?”

He hadn’t been sure how to answer. After all, he often felt the same way. So he’d put your favorite movie on the TV, dug some ice cream out from the back of his freezer, and stayed up late with you, watching one movie after another until you both dozed off in a tangle of limbs and blankets on his couch.

Slowly, he pushes himself into a sitting position on the hotel bed and looks at Morgan through the strands of hair hanging in his eyes. “You can’t tell her.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I wasn’t going to, Reid.”

“I mean it,” Spencer insists. “(Y/N) can’t know. Emily, either. They... I don’t want to ruin this for her.”

“Hey,” Derek says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “My lips are sealed, kid. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Spencer sighs. “Thanks,” he mutters, then attempts to rub the sleep from his eyes. “An hour, you said?”

---

He sequesters himself in one of the corner seats on the jet. He gets multiple worried and confused glances from everyone, including you, but no one pushes, as his body language just about screams, “leave me alone.”

Twenty minutes into the flight, someone slides into the seat across from him and he reluctantly looks up from his book. It’s Emily, looking properly nervous, folding her hands in front of her on the table.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed that it’s not you.

He is sure that he doesn’t want to be talking to Emily right now, though. She took you, she took you, she took you, she took you, runs relentlessly through his mind. He pushes the thought away, glancing down at his book and running his finger across the pages to try and keep himself calm.

“Reid,” she starts hesitantly, and he drags his eyes back up. “I know you’re mad that (Y/N) didn’t tell you about us.”

Well, you’re not wrong, he thinks bitterly. It’s just not for the reason you assume, Emily.  

“But, um, that’s not on her,” she continues. “I asked her not to. And it wasn’t just you. We didn’t tell anyone. Only Hotch knew before last night, and that’s because we had to tell him.”

“Why?” Spencer asks bluntly. He does, technically, know the answer. Emily is very private when it comes to her life outside of work. It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to go around announcing her relationship status.

But Spencer doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand how she can be in love and not want to shout it from the rooftops. It doesn’t make any sense to him that she wouldn’t want to show you off and introduce you as my girlfriend. He can’t comprehend how she can have you, be loved by you, and not want everyone to know it.

Emily’s slightly taken aback by his question, and she bites her lip as she considers how to answer. “I just... really prefer to keep my work and personal life as separate as possible,” is what she settles on.

“Kinda impossible to do that when you’re seeing a coworker,” Spencer shoots back, then mentally scolds himself. You said you wouldn’t ruin this for her, Spencer. Don’t ruin this for (Y/N).

Her chuckle is nervous. “Well, yeah,” she concedes. “But we make it work.”

Spencer then asks a question he doesn’t really want to know the answer to before he can stop himself. “How long?”

Emily’s eyes fall to her hands as she poorly hides a smile. “Eight months.”

Eight months. Eight months. You’ve been with Emily for eight fucking months, and you never told him, never even hinted at the fact that you were seeing someone. You kept him in the dark for eight months.

You let him fall in love with you when your heart already belonged to someone else.

He doesn’t want to be mad at you. He knows he’s not being fair. He really, honestly, wants to be happy for you, happy that you found what you’ve been searching for, but reality seems hellbent on making that as difficult for him as possible.

“Please,” Emily says, “if you’re going to be mad, be mad at me. I was the one who asked her to do this.”

He stares down at his book for a full three minutes before finally muttering, “Alright.”

He sees her shoulders slump in relief in his peripheral vision. “Thank you,” she whispers, and then she leaves.

Spencer watches her walk across the jet to the couch and sit down next to you. He looks down before you can look at him because he knows he won’t be able to handle what he’ll see in your eyes. It’ll be love in your eyes, but love that’s not directed at him.  

Emily took you from him, she took you, she took you, his mind repeats until Spencer makes the first of what’s to be many attempts to accept the truth.

Emily didn’t take you from him. You were never his to begin with. 

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

tell me what you thought here!

[belettewrites]

Listen to the melody

In which Jaskier finds a puppy, immediately adopts him, and Geralt becomes the “dad didn’t want a dog//dad and the dog” meme. Oh, and some self-esteem issues from a certain white-haired witcher that lead to some hurt until they finally talk to each other. 

cw: the dog gets hurt but I promise he’s fine.

Around 8k words, link to AO3 here!

And a big thank you to @potatofu-art for giving the dog his name! Go check their blog, you won’t regret it (no seriously, do it, trust me)

Geralt and Jaskier had met again when the cold breeze had been replaced by a warmer one, when trees were starting to wear bright green leaves again and fields were blooming with small and fragile flowers.

A few months had past, spring leaving in favor of a warm summer, and they had not parted ways yet. It was something that they usually did, because sometimes Jaskier needed to go to a bardic competition that took place where Geralt would never be able to find a contract, or because Jaskier was requested to play somewhere Geralt would never be able to follow. It wasn’t really parting ways, actually it was more Jaskier leaving, but Geralt told himself that it was something he was fine with. The bard did find him again after, or Geralt did, and they would start traveling together again, Jaskier sharing gossips that Geralt pretended to care about.

He was… fond of Jaskier, and that was why when the bard stopped following the path that would lead straight to the village they had planned to spend the night in, Geralt stopped to wait for him.

The sun hadn’t set yet and wouldn’t for at least an hour, but cicadas were already singing around them, the luminosity dim even though night hadn’t fallen yet. They were just at the edge of the town, and so they had time.

Geralt turned around to see what Jaskier was doing; surely the bard had found a flower that he deemed worth picking, and- 

Jaskier wasn’t on the road anymore. He had jumped in the ditch by the side of the road, and was currently cooing at something. Now that Geralt thought of it, he could hear two heartbeats in that ditch.

“Jaskier?”

He didn’t draw his sword – there was no need – but readied himself for whatever he would find. He walked closer to the ditch, trusting Roach not to run away; the mare snorted but didn’t move.

“I’m fine, don’t worry, it’s just – can you hold him for me while I get out of here?”

Geralt looked down. The ditch was quite deep, Jaskier would no doubt stain his doublet to get out of it, as he had his boots when he had jumped in it: a layer of mud covered the bottom of the ditch. But that was not the part that interested Geralt at the moment; not, what made him pause was what Jaskier was currently cradling to his chest – a puppy.

It was not a small one; his legs, covered in mud as the rest of his fur, showed that he would grow into a big dog, the kind that kept herds of sheep in the mountains – not the kind that was left alone in a ditch by the side of the road.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, his tone impatient, and Geralt reached out without thinking about it, taking the puppy in his hands.

It squirmed a little but let itself be carried. Geralt put it on the ground next to him, and helped Jaskier to get out of the ditch.

“Thank you, dear,” Jaskier smiled, before his attention returned to the dog. He squatted down to take it in his arms. “The poor thing wasn’t even making a noise,” he said, his smile turning sad, “and he’s shaking. He must have been in here for hours – why would anyone do that?”

Geralt looked at the puppy. His long brown and black fur was in a poor state, hairs matted together by the mud.

“He’s missing a leg,” he stated, and Jaskier frowned.

“And?”

“And people don’t want dogs with only three legs,” Geralt shrugged. It was stupid, but humans often were.

Jaskier’s eyes somehow got even sadder, and Geralt felt helpless. He didn’t want Jaskier to be sad, but there wasn’t anything that he could do to make humans stop being prejudiced against things that weren’t how they expected them to be.

Then determination shone in Jaskier’s eyes and Geralt suddenly felt afraid of what he would say next.

“We’re keeping Butterscotch.”

“We are not keeping him- you gave him a name?”

Jaskier scratched the dog behind his ears, and the puppy closed his eyes.

“Well it’s not as if anyone was going to,” the bard replied, and Geralt suddenly felt extremely tired. “Besides, I found him. I get to name him.”

“We can’t keep him,” Geralt said again, because it was something that Jaskier needed to understand.

“But he’s helpless,” Jaskier almost pouted, “and you said it yourself: people won’t want him. I am not going to leave him here all alone, ready to be eaten by wolves.”

There weren’t any wolves in the area, but Geralt decided against saying it. And of course they wouldn’t abandon him like that.

“His previous humans didn’t want him,” he said instead, “we can find him another family.”

The puppy yawned, which was the most noise he had made since they had found him, and tried to lick Jaskier’s chin. The bard smiled at him, a fond thing, and Geralt suddenly couldn’t tell Jaskier that a young dog wouldn’t survive on the path for long and that they couldn’t exactly afford to feed a puppy on top of their needs.

“No,” Jaskier said, still holding the puppy in his arms. Fuck, but he was cute. The dog – Butterscotch – tried to lick him again, and Jaskier laughed.

Fuck.

They were now doing what he had no choice but to call puppy eyes at him.

This was a bad idea. There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea – a dog would need care and attention, and Jaskier’s life was chaotic enough as it was. And of course, dogs didn’t exactly like Geralt. Neither did other pets; cats avoided him like the plague. He didn’t want an animal to be near him all the time – that would cause it distress, and Geralt knew that Jaskier would choose to leave sooner than he usually did.

But one important thing that Geralt couldn’t push aside was that what he wanted most was Jaskier to be happy, be it by his side or on his own.

“He can stay,” he finally conceded, trying not to let it show that at this point there was nothing he would be able to refuse Jaskier. “For now,” he warned pointlessly, acutely aware that the dog would be with him on the path until Jaskier decided that he had had enough of following a witcher around.

He turned away, warmed up by the smile that was currently lighting up Jaskier’s face. He tried to hold onto that happiness when the thought that Jaskier would leave inevitably came. They started walking again, Geralt leading, Jaskier right next to him.

“We’re going to have so many adventures together,” the bard said to the dog that he was still holding in his arms, “and we’ll have a fantastic time. But for now, Butterscotch, let’s go back to the inn and get you a bath. I’m sorry to tell you, you poor thing, but you absolutely need it.”

***

Traveling with a dog wasn’t that much different. Butterscotch was a silent one, never barking at birds or other dogs, which was a relief; the last thing Geralt needed was a small animal broadcasting their location to every single monster around. Even if Butterscotch wasn’t exactly small anymore.

They had found another town and had decided to stay there; Jaskier had performed at the tavern, earning a fair amount of coin, and they had retired for the night when his set had been over.

Geralt was already under the covers, watching with half-opened eyes as Jaskier was getting ready to go to bed. His boots were already by the bed, his doublet folded nicely on the table. 

Butterscotch put his front leg on the bed, near Geralt’s face, and currently sniffed him. His whiskers were tickling Geralt’s nose, and he glared at the dog, who – tried to lick Geralt’s face. The witcher resisted the urge of hiding himself behind the cover.

"He's not sleeping on the bed,” he warned.

“Of course he is sleeping on the bed, we'll need the extra heat. And he's adorable, Geralt, how can you say no?”

The so-called adorable dog was currently making puppy eyes at Geralt, as if he had understood what was going on and was trying to convince him too.

“Because he'll get fur everywhere, and my pants and armor are already covered in them.”

Because that sounded petulant, he added.

“The inn will charge us double.”

Jaskier sighed, but Geralt knew he had to win this one. If he didn’t, then the dog would just take a bad habit, and they would end up regretting it when he would be fully grown. The puppy was already bigger than when Jaskier had got him and it seemed that he was not going to stop. He looked like a shepherd dog, and Geralt wondered how the fuck he had ended up in the small town in which they had found him.

In which Jaskier had found him. Butterscotch was Jaskier’s dog, not theirs.

“But he’ll get cold, and lonely, and he’ll think I don’t love him-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted his friend before it turned into a proper lamentation and it was too late, “the d- Butterscotch loves you already, he follows you everywhere. He won’t mind sleeping on the ground, especially since dogs like him are used to sleeping outside.”

“You’re- you’re right. And we’re right here, it’s not as if he’ll miss us!”

It’s not as if he’ll miss you, Geralt thought. I don’t think he cares much about me.

It was already a miracle that the dog could stand being near him. They usually ran the other way, but this one was surely soothed by Jaskier’s calming presence, always here to talk to him or pet him, or even carry him – Geralt had told Jaskier that he would regret it when the dog would be older, but the other man had ignored him.

“Hear that, Butterscotch? No sleeping on the bed for you. But you’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

He heard Jaskier whispering to the dog for a few minutes, and let himself smile, knowing that the other man would never see it. It was nice to see Jaskier so happy; Geralt had given him some coins so he would be able to buy a brush for the puppy, and the way Jaskier had smiled still haunted him.

He heard more than he saw Jaskier slipping under the cover, yawning.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he whispered, and Geralt hummed his reply.

He discovered in the morning that Butterscotch had slept on his bag, successfully shedding fur everywhere. Jaskier had gone downstairs to get them breakfast, so he allowed himself to say to the dog:

“You’re a menace, little one.”

Butterscotch wagged its tail and nudged Geralt’s hand. Well. You couldn’t win them all.

***

The wind was howling outside, the sky was getting darker, and people were hurrying to get inside before the night fully settled. However, Geralt and Jaskier were too busy arguing to notice that.

“I’m telling you, Jaskier, you have to stay here for this one. It’s too dangerous.”

They had been arguing – calmly discussing – for a good ten minutes about Geralt’s next hunt; the witcher didn’t want Jaskier to come with him because it was too dangerous, while the bard absolutely wanted to come because it would “make a great song”. Geralt tended to disagree – he couldn’t exactly see the appeal of songs describing him fighting against monsters.

Plus, the fight would take place in a forest, at night, so it wasn’t very likely that Jaskier would be able to see anything, and extremely likely that Geralt would have to end up running for his bard’s life, because the other man was too busy taking notes to notice his surroundings. Though the night would prevent him from taking any notes, as would the rain that the dark clouds were announcing. There really was no point for Jaskier to come with him.

“Well what I am telling you is that-”

Butterscotch whined, effectively interrupting Jaskier in whatever he was going to reply.

They both looked down at the dog who was laying at their feet, his ears back on his head. Jaskier squatted down to take him in his arms.

“You’re going to regret that when he’ll be older,” Geralt warned, as he did every time Jaskier went to hold the puppy. Jaskier was strong, but not strong enough to hold the eighty pounds that the puppy would one day weigh. Somehow, Geralt knew that he was going to have to hold the dog when he would want to, and the thought itself was enough to tire him.

“We’ll see,” Jaskier replied like he did every time. “He doesn’t like when we’re fighting,” he added, showing the puppy to Geralt, who barely resisted the urge to pet him. Butterscotch’s ears had perked up now that Jaskier was holding him, and he and the bard made quite an adorable sight, not that Geralt was ever going to say that out loud.

It didn’t seem like Jaskier was going to change his mind soon, if the way he was frowning was a good indication of it. If the wind, the rain threatening to fall, and his possible demise weren’t enough to deter Jaskier from following him, it was time to change tactics. Jaskier might be the bard between the two of them but Geralt too knew how to wield words, though he didn’t choose to do it often.

“We can’t let him here,” he said, shoulders open as a proof of sincerity. Because he did mean it.

“I’m sorry?”

“Butterscotch. You can’t leave him here all alone. He’s still… young, it’s too dangerous.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at Geralt, who felt like he needed to go on if he wanted Jaskier to actually yield.

“He might get injured, I won’t be able to defend the both of you.”

And between you and him, I would choose you. Even if you’d hate me for not saving your dog.

Jaskier’s face seemed to fall, but he nodded, reaffirming his hold on the dog.

“You’re- yes, it would be safer for him.”

“For you,” Geralt insisted, because it was something that he needed to say. Butterscotch was a means to an end here, a way for him to make Jaskier stay in their room instead of running to his doom. And if it meant protecting the puppy, well. It was as they said, with the birds and the stone.

Geralt clumsily patted Jaskier on the shoulder before turning around to check if he had all he needed. It was easier than to see how his friend was looking now, his eyes too sad for Geralt’s liking. But it was something that he would do again – Jaskier’s safety was more important to him than what the bard actually thought about him.

He glanced at his things, quickly scanning what was in his bag: potions, a shirt that Jaskier had insisted had to be there, the stick that Butterscotch had given to him – wait.

He took the stick out of his bag, deciding against throwing it away, not because it was something that Butterscotch had given to him, but because… because. He could feel his swords against his back, their light weight a reassurance that everything was going to be okay – that even if he didn’t make it for a reason or another, Jaskier and Butterscotch would be safe here.

“I’ll go now,” he said to Jaskier, who had put the puppy back on the ground and was currently taking his lute out of its case. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Be careful, dear,” Jaskier replied, barely taking his eyes away from his lute.

Butterscotch tried to follow Geralt as he walked towards the door, and the witcher had to quickly close it to prevent the dog from escaping. He heard a whine coming from inside the room and Jaskier’s soothing voice who tried to calm him.

Shaking his head, Geralt walked downstairs, ignoring the way hearing how sad the puppy was made his heart clench.

Jaskier was reading when Geralt came back, thankfully uninjured, though damp because of the rain that had finally started to fall. The bard was already under the covers, his lute safe in its case, papers safely tucked away in his bag. A single candle was lighting the room, and Geralt was left once again to wonder about Jaskier’s powers. Could he see in the dark? Maybe that was why he had wanted to come with him despite the night.

“You’re back,” Jaskier smiled at him, not closing his book. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Geralt grunted, putting his bag and swords down. He had already cleaned them, knowing that Jaskier would already be in bed and not wanting to disturb him.

He started to unbuckle his armor, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw what was currently sleeping on his side of the bed.

“Is Butterscotch-”

“Sleeping on the bed? Yes, I think he is. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Geralt sighed.

“I thought we had agreed not to let him sleep on the bed.”

“I know it’s going to teach him terrible habits, but you were away and he was looking so sad-”

“It’s unsanitary,” Geralt said, finally getting out of his armor. Quickly changing into a new shirt – one that wasn’t full of fur –, he woke the dog up by petting his head. “Hey,” he murmured, trying not to think too much about why he was so gentle with him, “get off the bed.”

Butterscotch slowly stood up, stretching and yawning, but finally jumped off the bed in one smooth motion. He immediately went near Geralt’s bag, curled up into a ball, and promptly fell back asleep.

“Hmm.”

“See? He listens, he’s well-educated,” Jaskier said, closing his book and putting it away.

“He was afraid of what I might do to him,” Geralt retorted while getting under the cover. “I don’t think that counts as listening.”

Jaskier blinked a few times, his face growing serious.

“Butterscotch isn’t afraid of you, Geralt.”

“He obeys me because he sees me as a predator. He’s afraid.”

“Is that- Geralt, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Didn’t you hear him when you left? He was sad because you were leaving without him.”

“You’re disillusioned, bard,” Geralt snarled before blowing out the candle. To think that a dog – that anyone, really – would miss him when he was gone was beyond stupid.

Jaskier stayed silent, the only sound in the room the deep breaths of the dog.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he finally said, his voice small.

Geralt didn’t reply, too busy hating himself to notice how Jaskier’s breaths became more irregular, how the air suddenly smelled like salt instead of them.

Butterscotch kept on sleeping, undisturbed.

***

Geralt hadn’t known how to apologize about that incident so he didn’t, and they kept on moving across the continent for a few weeks, Butterscotch still proudly walking beside them, following Jaskier or staying near Roach who, the traitor, seemed to like the dog just find, never minding when he walked near her.

Jaskier hadn’t mentioned the incident either, so Geralt simply thought that it had been forgotten. He hadn’t made any other remarks after that, and Jaskier hadn’t tried to pretend that the dog loved them both equally when they both knew it was a lie.

It didn’t stop Geralt from thinking back about that night and the day that had followed, how Jaskier had talked but not really talked, how it had seemed more like a defense mechanism than a true desire to share every thought that came across his mind.

Butterscotch hadn’t been allowed to sleep on the bed again after that night though he kept on trying, and Geralt was left to wonder how exactly the presence of a dog had changed their dynamics so much. Or maybe, he thought as he watched Jaskier braiding a flower into Roach’s mane, maybe it didn’t change them as much as it revealed that they had already changed. Jaskier was getting older, and though it didn’t show, Geralt knew that the time for him to finally settle down somewhere would come.

He had mentioned the coast, once, how he would have liked to go there when he would be older, and Geralt knew that it was only a matter of time before Jaskier would leave him, taking Butterscotch and all the happiness in Geralt’s life with him.

But it was not something Geralt had control over; still, he couldn’t help but think about it, about when Jaskier would eventually leave, when he would be all alone on the path once again. He had forgotten how it was to truly be alone. Even when he and Jaskier got separated during the year, he knew they would find each other again. But to know that Jaskier wouldn’t be waiting for him anymore would change the colors of the path from bright and lively to dull.

It was difficult not to think about it right now. They were sleeping outside, in the woods, because the weather was nice and they were too far away from any villages anyway. They had set camp early and the night had just fallen on them. Jaskier and Butterscotch had left for a walk, as they always did on evenings, and Geralt had stayed behind, as he always – no. That was not true. He should stop thinking like that.

He added another log to the fire, and sighed. He could hear them still, Jaskier walking on twigs and Butterscotch running around, but he felt… lonely. Which was ridiculous. He never used to feel like that before.

They were coming back, just in time to eat the rabbits that Geralt had been cooking. He had made sure to add spices to Jaskier’s part.

Butterscotch ran straight to him, his lack of a front leg not deterring him. He stopped right by him, and Geralt petted his head. The dog had surely smelled the rabbits, which would explain why he was letting Geralt pet him. Or maybe – but no. Dogs didn’t like him.

“He whines when you’re not here, you know,” Jaskier said as he sat down next to Geralt. “Which was cute when he was small, but now – I swear, he’s always silent when you’re near but when you’re gone? Gods, the only way to soothe him is to give him one of your shirts.”

That would explain why he kept on having dog hair on his stuff even when they had been safely packed away in his bag.

"Hmm," he replied, trying to ignore the way the dog wagged his tail as he pet him. It meant nothing.

He stopped petting Butterscotch to take the rabbits out of the fire, and the dog nudged his arm.

“He didn’t like how you stopped petting him,” Jaskier remarked, an amused smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, but resumed his previous task. Butterscotch sat down and put his head on Geralt’s tight, who tried his best to refrain the wave of affection that overtook him. Maybe – maybe the dog trusted him, after all. Maybe Jaskier had been right, the other night, when –

He quickly glanced at his friend, who looked the other way when their eyes met. Great.

Geralt hated it, hated the way they were right now – but he couldn’t say anything. It was too late. He should have apologized right after his outburst. But Jaskier had acted as if everything was fine the next morning and it had been too easy to follow his lead, to not think about what he had said, how it might have hurt him.

“We should eat,” he said, if only to break the silence. “And maybe – you must have a song or two, for after,” he added hesitantly.

Jaskier’s face cleared up, a sparkle of mischief lighting up in his eyes. It made Geralt want to smile.

Instead, what he did was take his share of the food and eat it slowly, giving as discreetly as possible pieces of it to the dog that hadn’t left his side. If Jaskier saw him, he didn’t say anything; he was talking about the latest gossip in a court whose name Geralt had forgotten.

Listening to his laugh as he recounted the misfortune of some nobles made it a bit easier to forget that this, that them being together and sharing a meal, was not something that was meant to last. Jaskier played soft tunes that Butterscotch fell asleep to, laying down at Geralt’s side, and Geralt closed his eyes. He never wanted the moment to end.

***

The day had been nice; the weather had been kind to them, the sun warming the streets of the town they had decided to stay in because Geralt had taken a contract there and because the inn looked “just perfect for me to perform in, Geralt”. So they had rented a room, Jaskier had given the innkeeper his word that the big fluffy dog that was with them wouldn’t hurt anyone and would keep silent, and they had spent the rest of the day preparing for their respective evening activities.

The fight wasn’t one Geralt was worried about, and it went without much problems. Jaskier and Butterscotch had stayed behind, as they did most of the time now, and Geralt had tried not to think about it too much. Because that was what he had wanted, right? But he couldn’t help but feel as if it were a sign of Jaskier’s soon departure, a proof that Jaskier wasn’t interested in staying with him anymore. It scared him, and the fact that it scared him scared him even more.

He managed to refrain from sighing wearily as he opened the door. He was ready to eat whatever was left of supper and to go to bed, because hopefully his dreams wouldn’t be plagued by thoughts of Jaskier and Butterscotch leaving him.

“Geralt!”

His name, said with so much angst and worry, made Geralt almost drop everything he had been carrying – namely, his swords and his bag of potions. Eyes wide open, suddenly perfectly awake, he all but ran to Jaskier, worried out of his mind. The last time he had seen him, Jaskier had been working at the table of the room, happily humming, the dog laying at his feet, playing with one of Geralt's shirts.

Now Jaskier was standing beside the door, eyes full of tears, while Butterscotch was nowhere to be seen.

“Jaskier, breathe,” he said, as gently as he could manage. “What's going on?”

Jaskier grasped Geralt's arm, his grip almost painful.

“I- it's Butterscotch. He's- he's not doing well, I brought him to the town's apothecary and they said to come back with payment, but I don't think I have enough coins and I don't even know if he'll be okay and-”

Geralt put his bag down and gathered his friend into his arms – to ground him.

“-and I don't usually panic but you were late and- oh, Geralt, what if something happens to him?”

That was exactly why Geralt hadn't wanted the dog to stay with them. Not because he was a liability and another way to waste coin – but because this exact situation could happen. Because loving a being as fragile as Butterscotch was the best way to end up hurt. He tried not to think about Roach, and the Roach that had been there before.

That also was why he had tried his best not to attach himself to Jaskier. Because the bard would die one day, and it was easier not to have friends than to have to face the pain of losing them. Though that line of thought had been cut short when Jaskier had casually said that he couldn't exactly die, and though Geralt didn't exactly know how that particular thing had happened, he couldn't say that he didn't like it. Now the only thing that would stop him from being with Jaskier – as a friend − was the bard deciding that Geralt wasn't worth his time and affection anymore, which would hurt too, but Geralt comforted himself by thinking that at least Jaskier would be alive.

“I have money,” he said at last, not knowing how to comfort Jaskier who was crying in his arms. “We should go there, and listen to what they say.”

He had no idea what had happened to their dog, but it must have been bad if Jaskier was in such a state. The bard loved so freely, it was sometimes worrying.

“Yes,” Jaskier nodded, “Yes. Do you think- do you think we should bring him his shirt?” he added tentatively, sniffing.

“I don't know when my shirt became his, but yes,” Geralt tried to joke just to make Jaskier smile, to bring back the spark in his blue eyes.

It worked, somehow, Jaskier smiling thinly, eyes still brimmed with red. How long had he been crying, alone?

“Come on, Jask. No need to stay here when they need us there. I have enough money, take the shirt, and we'll see how our dog is doing. I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Jaskier nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you're right, yes, I- I'll tell you what happened on the way.”

They left the room without looking back, and Geralt, worried about Jaskier and about the dog that had somehow forged a way into his heart, let Jaskier take his hand. He needed the comfort, Geralt thought, and it wasn't hurting anyone. And there was nothing that he could really refuse Jaskier – the mere presence of Butterscotch into their life was proof of that.

Their brown and black dog was in a poor state, his breaths laborious and his eyes glassy.

“I gave him something against the pain”, the apothecary explained, “but it's going to take a few more days until he'll be fine again.”

Geralt felt Jaskier squeeze his hand.

“But he is?” the bard asked, his voice hoarse, “Going to be fine, I mean.”

The apothecary smiled.

“Yes, worry not,” they assured. “Make sure he doesn't eat anything like this again, though.”

As Jaskier had explained to Geralt on the way to the edge of the village where the shop was, he had taken Butterscotch outside for a walk right before the night had fallen, because he had planned to spend the evening playing for the townsfolk and the day was just too beautiful to resist a short stroll.

Since the dog didn't need a leash, Jaskier had let him wander around, keeping an eye on him but not worried. Nothing bad had happened, but right as they were going back into their room, Butterscotch had eaten something that had been left right in front of their door, and had started whining soon after. Jaskier had dropped everything to run to the town’s apothecary, Butterscotch in his arms, worried out of his mind and not even thinking about who could have done it.

It made Geralt's blood boil with rage. He could understand people being prejudiced against him, not liking him and fearing him. But to think that someone had willingly tried to poison his dog – it made him feel furious and guilty. What if they had decided to hurt Jaskier instead? 

“We brought him something,” Jaskier said, taking out the black shirt that was covered in fur, “Can he have it?”

The apothecary sent a knowing look Geralt's way but smiled at them. Jaskier hadn't let Geralt's hand go.

“Of course. I can keep him here for a few days, if that's alright with you.”

Geralt could feel Jaskier's hesitation, though he didn't know what caused it.

“I have coin”, Geralt told them, and he felt Jaskier relax next to him. “It's not going to be a problem. Please just... make sure he doesn't suffer too much?”

Jaskier squeezed his hand again, and Geralt squeezed back to let him know that everything was going to be alright.

“I will,” they promised, “He's lucky to have people as loving as you two are.”

“He's... good,” Geralt said, not really knowing how to answer that. He glanced at Jaskier, only to find that the bard was already looking at him.

“Thank you for taking care of him so late in the evening,” Jaskier yawned, and oh, right, it was well into the night at this point. Geralt hadn't even realized. “We'll be on our way,” Jaskier added, and Geralt took it as his cue to give the apothecary the amount of money they had asked for. “Thank you for taking care of Butterscotch, we'll be back tomorrow to visit him.”

They bid their goodbyes and walked back to their room. Jaskier was silent on their way back to the inn, which was weird but understandable; he seemed to be thinking about something, his scent betraying his sadness and his anxiousness. And if Jaskier's hand found Geralt's again, well, neither of them was going to comment on that.

***

“It's weird, not having to tell him not to climb on the bed,” Geralt remarked a little while later, as they were both trying to sleep, candles blown out a few minutes ago.

When Jaskier didn't reply, he opened his eyes to look at him. Jaskier avoided his eyes, and Geralt frowned.

“I'm worried about him too,” he said, “but they said he was going to be okay. You should try to sleep, Jaskier. It won’t change anything if you stay awake.”

Jaskier sighed, a sigh so sad and so full of anguish that hearing it made Geralt's chest hurt.

“I know, it's just- you aren't going to leave him here, right? After he's well again? Because I know we're both just liabilities to you,” Jaskier went on without caring about Geralt's stunned silence, “But this was my fault and he shouldn't be punished like this – because between you and him I don't know which one I would be able to choose, because choosing you would mean losing him and I think I would hate you for that, but choosing him would mean losing you and I- I can't afford to lose you, Geralt.”

To say that Geralt didn't know what to fucking say would be an understatement; he went for the thing he was the most familiar with.

“What?”

Jaskier sat up and so did he. He cast Igni absentmindedly, thinking that it was a conversation for which they needed to see each other clearly and not in the darkness of an unlit room. It was a mistake, though, because seeing Jaskier's desperate look in the light made Geralt feel... he didn't know what the feeling was, but it was not a good one.

“I mean,” he tried again, “Why the fuck would I leave him here? He's our- I mean, your dog, and you love him, why would I- I would never do that, Jaskier, I-”

A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, what do you mean you're both liabilities?”

“What I mean,” Jaskier said, “and don't you dare deny it, is that I know I don't bring much to you, and that Butterscotch at best amuses you sometimes. And-”

“I love him, Jask,” Geralt interrupted. And I love you, he didn't add.

“Oh,” Jaskier replied, clearly not expecting such an answer. “Well, that's-”

“And you’re not liabilities,” Geralt went on, because that was something that he needed to say, that he apparently should have said sooner if Jaskier was able to say it with so much confidence.

“Geralt, you need to feed him, I’m useless in a fight, and I mostly make you end in problems which you would have been able to stay away from if you had been alone.”

That was… true. Not that Geralt cared.

“Jaskier, you don’t- I was alone. And you decided to be my – friend,” he managed to say, trying not to show how much it scared him to say it out loud, lest Jaskier denied it, “and I don’t mind paying for your dog, or for our food, it’s- it’s how I can take care of you. So. I don’t mind.”

He was the one trying to avoid Jaskier’s gaze, now. The mutations made sure he wasn’t able to blush, but boy did he feel like he was. Eyes cast to the side, he tried to say the last thing he had on his mind, because it felt like it mattered.

“And I- I’m happy that you’re here. On the path with me, I mean. And you’ll be welcome for as long as you want. But you don’t have to feel- obliged to stay,” he choked out, because now that it had been said, Jaskier would surely leave, no matter what he had told before. Geralt thought of the coast, of a blue-eyed man laughing on a beach, throwing a stick for his dog to fetch. “I know you’ll want to leave, and when that time comes I’ll make sure to bring you to safety, not because I don’t think you couldn’t handle yourself but because I know I- I know I would want to- to travel with you one last time.”

Silence fell on the room, but not the right kind of silence. It was not a comforting one, not the kind of soothing silence that seemed to wrap you in a hug, the kind that felt like balm gently applied to a burn; no, it was an burning one, a silence so loud that it hurt, and Geralt found that it was hard for him to breathe. He had said his piece, and now Jaskier knew.

The flame flickered and shadows danced around them, and he found himself wishing that it had been a windy night, because at least that sound would have filled the silence that was suffocating him. Geralt was still waiting for Jaskier to reply something, anything, to yell at him or to let out a relieved smile that would mean Yes, finally, I am free, but Jaskier’s face was completely blank and Geralt didn’t know what that meant.

“Or- or if you don’t want that,” he scrambled to say, suddenly understanding why Jaskier was always talking to fill the silence, “I wouldn’t accompany you, I don’t want you to-”

“Is that why you’ve been so odd lately?” Jaskier interrupted him, frowning, his blue eyes clear despite the low luminosity. “Because you think I want to leave?”

“Yes,” Geralt admitted, not daring to speak too much when Jaskier was finally saying something – and wasn’t that ironic.

“Geralt,” Jaskier started, and the seriousness in his voice almost made Geralt shiver of anxiousness, “the only reason I would leave would be if I wasn’t wanted anymore. Which, if I’m being honest” he added, lips stretched in a bitter smile, “was what I was thinking was happening.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, and to Geralt’s horror he saw tears making their way down his face. He ached to tenderly wipe them out, but knew he couldn’t.

“Jaskier-” he said, suddenly desperate to get the words out, to make this right, to make them right again, “about the other night- when I snapped at you because you said that Butterscotch liked me- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

His friend sighed. It was a tired sigh, a weary one.

“That’s the thing, Geralt – you never mean it,” he smiled, but his smile was as happy as his sigh had been. “But whether you mean it or not, your words, the very few of them that I’m blessed enough to hear – they hurt.”

Geralt could only stare helplessly as Jaskier went on, tears still streaming down his face.

“You are my most precious friend, Geralt, and that’s why I have- why I didn’t say anything. Because you mean well, you’re a good person, and just being around you makes me – it makes me happy, Geralt, to be able to care for you, to give you the few things I have, because with you everything is just – better. And in the end,” he added, wiping out his tears with the back of his hand, “in the end the way I feel when I’m near you is worth the pain your words put me through. You are worth – everything, Geralt of Rivia.”

How had they arrived here? How, after years spent traveling together, could Geralt have been so blind about how he made Jaskier feel?

To learn that he had caused so much anguish and pain to the person he loved the most was making Geralt ache. His first reaction was to dismiss what Jaskier had just said about him, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? 

“I-,” Geralt tried, tried to be honest and to show more than just aggression for once, “I don’t think of myself that way, so it’s difficult for me to- to think that anyone would. Especially-” he gulped, fighting to get the words out because it felt like if he didn’t, he would lose Jaskier for good, “Especially someone as- as- perfect as you. And it was easier to just dismiss it and push you away than to think about how much – how much I care about you. Because caring about people is – dangerous. Gives them power over you, gives your enemies something to use against you.”

Jaskier was looking at him, hands on his tights; he wasn’t crying anymore, but tears were threatening to fall once again. Geralt hopped, prayed, that it wasn’t because he was hurting him again.

“But you have to know that-,” he started, then stopped because he didn’t know how to say it. “I- I don’t know how to tell you,” he finally admitted. “It’s- like- despite how dangerous it is, I- I let myself care about you, and I- I don’t regret it. I will never regret it, Jaskier, because you are – a blessing. You are a beautiful, perfect thing that my hands don’t know how to touch without breaking it.”

He ached to reach out, to take one the hand that he had been holding earlier.

“So it’s- it’s easier to-”

He had no choice but to say it, hadn’t he? He couldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore, he wouldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore – though was it a lie, to keep the truth silent? He was being a coward and he knew it, but being Jaskier’s friend was better than to confess and to lose his warmth entirely. Though he had been a bad friend to the bard, and – well.

“It was easier to act as if it meant nothing than to admit that I love you,” he mumbled rapidly, afraid that his courage would fail him.

Now that the truth was out in the air, he didn’t dare to glance at Jaskier. What would the look on his face be? Disgust? Pity? Or, somehow worse, just a blank look, synonym of the doom of their already fragile relationship?

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed out, and his voice sounded teary but the sadness from earlier had disappeared. “Is that how you’re thinking? That love is a – liability? That loving me is a liability?”

“That’s how I used to think,” Geralt corrected him, “before I realized that I was wrong. And that’s why – that’s why Butterscotch scares me. Because he’s young, but he will die, and I know that it’ll hurt and-”

“Darling,” Jaskier interrupted, moving on the bed to be sitting next to Geralt, their tights pressed together. Geralt could hear his heartbeat, knew that the other man was nervous, but the closeness felt like acceptance and maybe, maybe, requited love. A hand found his, and Geralt squeezed it without thinking. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, “Why do you focus so much on what is going to happen? It prevents you from enjoying life, darling. Butterscotch will die one day, yes, and I know that it will bring me pain, that it will hurt us both. But is that all that you’re thinking about when you see him playing in the dirt? When he sleeps soundly next to you? When you hear a song, darling, do you think about its last notes or do you listen to its melody?”

“I-”

“I’d be a hypocrite,” Jaskier’s voice dropped lower as if he was sharing a secret, “if I didn’t admit that when we meet up in spring, I can’t help but think about the day we’ll go on our separate ways, because it might be the last time I’ll see you. But then I- I force myself not to think about it, because at least six months of the year will be spent next to you, next to the man I love, and-”

“You love me?” Geralt interrupted him, turning his head to look at Jaskier. His red-rimmed blue eyes had never looked more beautiful.

“Of course I do, Geralt, how could I not?”

Jaskier dropped his head on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt didn’t know where their conversation was going, didn’t understand what had just happened – he had been this close to losing Jaskier, had felt the bard closing off, and now they were next to one another, Jaskier’s hair tickling his cheek.

“So that means I- you- forgive me?”

Jaskier stayed silent, but didn’t draw away.

“Yes,” he finally replied, and Geralt frowned slightly.

“I’m not sure I deserve your forgiveness,” he started, squeezing Jaskier’s hand when he felt that the other man was about to say something, “but I will do my best to deserve it. I will – I will be more careful with you, Julek,” he swore.

They stayed silent for a bit, but this time Geralt didn’t feel as though he couldn’t breathe. The room around them felt more welcoming, the orange light from the candle warmer than it had been earlier.

“What does that mean for us?” Jaskier asked, and he sounded – hesitant, but hopeful. It was a question easy for Geralt to answer, because he had always been better at acts than at words.

“It means that we’ll stay as long as Butterscotch needs us to, and then we’ll go on with our travels. Maybe we’ll stay near the coast, there are always villages that are in need of witchers there. Butterscotch will go play in the water and I’ll complain when he’ll shake himself, but I’ll give him treats when you won’t be looking.”

A pause, then.

“But he still won’t be allowed to sleep on the bed.”

Jaskier snorted, and Geralt felt relieved beyond measure.

“For now, though,” Geralt added, “I think we should sleep. I did just come back from a hunt, after all, and it is quite late in the night.”

“My poor, dear witcher,” Jaskier smiled, and Geralt tried not to let it show how much it pleased him to be called Jaskier’s until he remembered that actually showing how he felt was important, “you must be exhausted. No kiss for you, then, only resting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at Jaskier who was looking at him, mirth lighting up his eyes.

“I’m not that tired,” he objected, and Jaskier chuckled.

“Aren’t you? Then I guess I could be convinced to kiss you goodnight.”

Their kiss wasn’t mind-blowing. It just – was. Jaskier’s cheeks were still damp from his crying and their kiss tasted a bit like salt and the angle was weird, but Jaskier sighed in his mouth, a happy sigh, and Geralt found out that he couldn’t wait to do that for the rest of their lives.

Soon they would leave this place and travel, and Geralt would get more injuries and Jaskier would write more songs; but he tried not to think about it, and found it not so difficult to focus on the moment when Jaskier kissed him again.

It was a short kiss, a chaste one; it was a promise for more to come, for sunny days spent in laughter and gloomy evenings spent next to each other, for arguments and reconciliations, and for a life in each other’s company. Just him, Jaskier, and their dog – and Roach. 

[brandstifter-sys]

Sonnets

Word Count: 2144 (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety with some Creativitwins

Rating: T+

Warnings: Sexual themes, brotherly angst, talk of death

Roman finds a journal and assumes it’s Remus’ but when Remus says it’s not his Roman leaves him with it, so he has some time to read. Little does he know what will come from perusing that book.

-----

Remus was chaos, he didn't bend to anyone else's rules unless he wanted to. Almost nothing was off the table for him—gore, violence, monsters, pain—but he had limits. Don't steal Janus' hat when he isn't holding or wearing it, because an angry Janus meant silence, or worse being silenced and alone. Never ever get too gross with Patton, because he will scream and cry and flash those hideous puppy dog eyes! Stay at least 6 feet away from Logan or suffer through a lecture on how little influence the duke held. Never let Roman hurt himself so bad he can't heal. And never ever read Virgil's diaries. 

Remus was happily throwing shurikens at a large canvas with paint balloons, having fun despite only hitting the ones filled with red. It was just a little annoying to only have one color on a solid white background, and even more annoying when it was Roman's colors staring at him. Roman hadn't been much of a good brother in the past few years, and it stung to think about how they drifted apart. How almost everyone ran from him to Roman. It hurt to be so lonely. 

"Greetings, Your Disgrace!" Roman said as he entered the castle atrium suddenly. Remus threw another star that lodged itself in the canvas with a splash and a thump, and grinned manically at the unsettled prince. 

"Well if it isn't MacBetty himself!" Remus said and cracked his neck sharply, "What hell did I probably unleash on you today?" 

"Don't flatter yourself," Roman scoffed and held up a black journal with sparkling green trim, "You left this in the common area." 

"Did I?" he asked and righted his head with a sickening pop. He was as bad as Roman about collecting cool journals and never filling them, so it could be his, even if he didn't recognize it. Roman handed it to him and crossed his arms. 

"It would appear so. If Logan yells at me for leaving my notes lying about, he will certainly yell at me for yours." 

Remus hummed softly and ran his fingers over the cover, ignoring the jab. The trim pricked his fingers as they glided over it. It was a nice journal, but definitely not something he conjured up. He supposed it might have been a gift, but that would mean someone made something for him—someone other than Janus, and maybe just one other side, but he remembered every gift Virgil ever gave him.

"He likes to yell. Are you sure this is mine?" he questioned, still learning the rise and fall of the trim.

"I assumed, considering the design. I don't like to open other people's journals," Roman answered. Remus knew he was scared of leafing through it, probably expecting some security monster popping out the second he opened it. He didn't blame him for that one, but it stung nonetheless.

"Me neither, but now I'm curious!" Remus laughed and opened to a random page. It was all hand-written poetry. Interesting!

"It's a poetry book! Wanna hear one? It could be a hint!" Remus wiggled his eyebrows. Roman let out a short sigh but went tense. 

"I have other things to do. I came to drop off the book and now I must depart. Farewell." Roman bowed and sank out with flourish. He left far too quickly for comfort.

"Love you too, nice seeing you again, don't be a stranger," Remus pouted and went back to his room, too bummed to paint anymore. 

  He rose up and flopped on his bed with the journal open. Some angsty poetry might make him feel better. He got comfy and let his eyes traverse the page

My mouth is dry Sugary sweet and kind Choking me with my own tongue Out of everything, that saccharine isn't a lie

Remus pursed his lips. That one was really short, and with the talk of lies, he had to wonder. Was this actually Roman's? Did he want to share this with him covertly? Remus bit back a squeal at the thought and kept reading with some hope. 

Lost in translation Obstinate and selfish Get over yourself Avoidance builds pressure Never any quiet when you snap

Remus giggled, knowing exactly who that one was about! Someone pissed the author off! And he knew that that person pissed Roman off a lot! He turned the page, expecting to learn more about this author, believing they could be his brother wanting to reconnect. He was a little surprised to find a skull doodled in the corner but brushed it off.

I want to pull him from the shadows and into my heart Will he see me? Will he disappear if I reach for his hand? Am I blind and staggering in desperation? Someone like him would be better without me Someone like him deserves someone better No star deserves to succumb to a black hole

That one hurt. Remus wiped away the tears forming in his eyes. He knew that feeling all too well. The one side who made him want to obey, the side that made his heart flutter like the bats in his tummy—that side was his best friend and then he left. He missed his partner in crime and he wished that Virgil would come back, just for a visit, and spend time with him again. But that wasn't happening and he had a whole book to read about an author he could really connect with, Roman or not.

He went through several poems that were angsty and angry, full of self-loathing. With each piece he read, the more he doubted it was Roman. The language wasn't formal enough and it didn't match his style at all! It was good stuff, most of it, and Remus kind of hoped the real author would be willing to collaborate with him. He liked this guy.

Like the sun overhead, you're on fire The big man has a little golden boy Pompous and cruel with haughty desire Which one of us are you gonna destroy?

Darkness and shadow that cannot be lit Overshadowing you to make it stop Use that hubris to land another hit I'll keep fighting until the curtains drop

You think you're Hercules when you're so weak Rise like a phoenix Icarus, just try  Maybe you'll learn what it means to be meek Until that day you won't see me cry

I will rain on your parade every damn time Stopping stupidity is my worst crime

Okay so that one threw him for a loop. It would take a few minutes to piece it together. Remus decided that he could assume it was about Roman this time. Princey loved the classics and he had a pet phoenix. This author had some beef with him! Remus hoped for more anger at Roman with the next poem, because he certainly had enough pent up with the snobby, best-friend stealing, always got the spotlight prince. He didn’t get that catharsis, he got more than he bargained for.

I find comfort in breathing in his scent Even if his hands are mine for tonight If he asks, I don't know where his clothes went What I'm doing is wrong but it feels right

If I close my eyes I can taste his kiss A dream in a nightmare clouding my mind Hearing my name on his lips would be bliss To pin him down, our fingers intertwined

I long to stare into piercing jade pools So he thinks of me while I stake my claim I want him to never want to let go I always thought that love was just for fools But on his green sash, love, or something, came I almost regret that he'll never know

This was definitely not a book the author wanted to share. Remus was pretty sure that his face was going to melt off. Now he really wanted to figure out who wrote these! Someone actually liked him like that at some point! It definitely wasn't Princey in that poem—Remus still had the sash mentioned! He was just the tiniest bit turned on, but most of his hype went into his famous wiggles.

"You're so dead!" 

Remus jolted up and beamed. Virgil never stopped by anymore, so when he popped up threateningly, Remus was too happy to care or put the pieces together.

"And how do you wanna kill me? I have some suggestions!" he sang and shimmied. Virgil scowled and crossed his arms. 

"Have Janus wipe your memory and give it back." 

"What, the book?" Remus questioned and held it up. Virgil snatched it and held it to his chest protectively. Remus' eyes widened in horror.

"You wrote all that?! And I read it!? Oh no no no no no! I had no idea—I'll get Hisster Myde and scrub it away with steel wool! Dammit I am so sorry, Sca–Virgil!" Remus yelped and got up to pace. His only rule about Virgil, broken! The only rule he wanted to follow—tarnished!

"Were you about to call me 'Scabby Doo' again?" Virgil scoffed, hiding the fear and hurt he felt. 

"No, 'Scare Bear,' something kinda cute but that’s not important right now!" Remus answered, "I read your stuff without asking! I might be a crazed Camus Stranger boy, but I have some standards!" 

"Remus. Breathe. You're gonna wipe this trash from your memory and it'll be okay," Virgil tried to soothe him, only for the duke to go rigid. 

"Trash!?" Remus snarled and spun on his heels and marched up to Virgil until the lumbering emo hit the wall, confused and scared. 

"It's not trash! I know trash! I eat it for breakfast! That book holds some of the best stuff my critical creative ass has read in ages!" Remus snapped and glared up at him with a fire in his eyes. 

"What?" 

"Those poems are great! I was gonna find the author and beg on my knees like a needy subby bitch to collab with him because holy shit! I felt something with each one!" 

"Even the one with the skull doodle on the page?" Virgil squeaked, his face a beautiful shade of red. Remus smiled sadly. 

"Yeah, that one hit a little too close to home. I got all teary eyed. Thinking about it now after reading that saucy sonnet, it really hurts!" 

"I uh—" Virgil stammered, "I'm, uh, 'm sorry for the sash and the whole—"

"If you apologize for anything else I am going to lip wrestle that apology away!" Remus cut him off, "Because dammit, Virgil, I love you, even if you don't feel the same way anymore. No more self-hate and no more doubting yourself." 

"Puppy," Virgil said and finally took back some control, guiding Remus back and having him sit down, "I can't promise I'll be able to stop that completely, but if you can stand a little bit of it, I wouldn't mind making that collab a date." 

"Really!?" Remus grinned making Virgil's eyeshadow turn purple, "Can we paint too? And watch scary movies? And make out? And then try and woo each other with some dark prose until one of us caves and asks the other to be his boyfriend? And then f—" 

"Yeah," Virgil cut him off and pressed a finger to Remus' lips, "Except for the part about caving. Will you–I mean, only if you want to, would you–and it’s cool if you say ‘no’ since things might be a little weird but—”

“Band-aid, Emoraptor!” Remus cut him off, like he used to do back in the day when Virgil started down one of his nervous tangents.

“Maybe be my boyfriend now?" Virgil said quickly and winced.

"Yes!" Remus cheered and dragged Virgil into a hug, tumbling on the sheets, "Loom over me like a cypress tree and stay with me until I taste death for a night." 

"Stay here and cuddle until we pass out like touch starved gremlins? Only if you visit me in the abyss until this world calls," Virge mused and wrapped his arms around the duke, curling around him protectively. 

"And then the next," Remus hummed softly and kissed his hand, “But you’re always in my dreams!” Virgil buried his face in Remus’ neck and smiled against his skin. Who would have thought that they would wind up here?

Roman sat on his bed and stared at the collage of pictures he had on the wall. In the very center was an old drawing of him and Remus in front of a castle. He sighed wistfully and stared at it, admiring Remus' work. He hoped that sneaking into Virgil's room was worth it—he wanted Remus to be happy even if he couldn't provide that joy. Maybe one day he’d be able to, but until then, he hoped he got his best friend and brother together to make some amends if not more.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 1

So I recently joined the Vikings fandom (better late than never, right?) and could not get this one-shot out of my head. This is my first time writing for Vikings and writing Ivar. Let me know what you think. 

Also a huge shout-out to @saritanotserena​ for helping me with the moodboard. You are the best, babe! 

Words: 4300

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual content, mild angst?

Series Masterlist

 "I'm going to get something to drink!" Kari yelled into the ear of her friend, Alana, hoping she could hear it over the deafening music blasting from the nearby speakers. 

 Alana nodded, ignoring the brunette in lieu of the man who had his hands on her hips and cock grinding against her ass. 

 Without waiting further, Kari squeezed her way through the crowd on the club's dance floor and towards where their table was. For the umpteenth time, she tried to tug down the short, skin-tight black dress over her thighs, unsuccessful in covering the vast amount of skin showing. Even if Alana told her it looked fine and to stop worrying, it still made her personally self-conscious. Right now, she would much rather be at her shared townhouse eating popcorn and binge watching a show or reading one of her new books, comfortable in yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with preferably no bra. Definitely no bra if she had a choice. But no, she had used up all the valid excuses she could conjure and now had to pay the devil his dues. Or in this case, go out clubbing with her friends. 

 Quickly, she made her way to the table and plopped down in a chair, reaching for the bottled water she was smart enough to bring this time. She ignored the couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat on the other side of the table as she took a sip of the water. Yes, she had told Alana she needed a drink but mostly she just wanted a break. She never wore heels unless for special occasions and with all the dancing she had been forced to endure amongst the mass of sweaty bodies, her feet and ankles were killing her. 

 She peeked at her phone, seeing the late hour and wondering if she could use it as an excuse to leave. She knew her friends planned to stay longer, or leave soon with company for the night. Perhaps no one would notice if she snuck away, feigning exhaustion or some illness. 

 As if sensing her thoughts, a voice called out to her from the other side of the table. "Don't even think about it."

 Kari looked up, meeting the narrowed, brown eyes of her friend across the table from her. "Rach…."

 "No, don't you, 'Rach' me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kari. "I see you, and you are trying to figure out how to leave. It's not happening. You know the deal."

 "Please? It's getting late and there is no one here…"

 "Bullshit. Quite trying to make excuses. You agreed to the deal and you can't leave until you fulfill your side of the bargain and you bet your ass I'm watching." She leaned back against her boyfriend, brushing a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear. 

 Kari grumbled under her breath. "Doubt it. You've been trying to eat each other's faces the whole time."

 "What was that?"

 "Nothing."

 "What is the deal she agreed to?" Seth asked smugly, arms wrapped around Rachel's waist and laying soft kisses over her exposed shoulders and neck. 

 "Before Kari leaves tonight, she has to make-out with someone...and not just a quick peck either. Full. On. Snogging." Rachel answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a crooked smile. 

 Kari dropped her face in her hands, groaning. She knew there was a snowball's chance in hell that Rachel would have forgotten about what Kari reluctantly agreed to but still…. she had hoped. 

 Rachel continued speaking to Seth but Kari could feel those brown eyes on her. "She hasn't kissed anyone since her ex; so Alana, Jasmine and I decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands."

 "Her ex... shit, wasn't that like two years ago?"

 "Yep." Rachel popped the 'p' loudly. "Now, Kari, you get back on that dance floor and find someone or I will pick them out for you."

 Almost giving herself whiplash with how quickly she raised her head back up, Kari stared horrified at her friend. 

 "You know I would."

 "Shit…." Kari mumbled, fiddling with one of the diamond studs in her ear. If there was one ultimate truth in the world, it was that Kari did NOT want any of her friends picking out someone for her to make-out with. The thought alone made her shudder. To say they had different tastes was an understatement. Her friends seemed to prefer the big, Viking-looking, blonds that seemed to enjoy going outside and chopping down trees…. for fun. Her preference was for, well not that. She downed the rest of her water and stood up, tugging down her short dress once again. "I'm going to the bathroom."

 The blonde rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you better get back on the floor once you're done. We can be here all night if we need too."

 Kari scurried away without a response. She did not actually have to use the bathroom but used the excuse to check her makeup and hair...and hide…. possibly for the rest of the night. Hoping to kill even more time, she took the long way to the bathroom, pointedly looking at the floor to avoid encouraging anyone to approach her. 

 She stumbled past the short set of stairs leading up to the VIP section, silently cursing her heels. All she wanted to do was kick them off. It was becoming a miracle she had not face-planted yet. Making a mental note to never let Alana choose her attire again, she pressed on, moving down one of the half walls along the raised VIP section. 

 As if fate sensed her thinking about her loathed heels, it decided to do something about it. 

 Someone suddenly shoved into her, pushing past her on their way towards somewhere. All the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of was a long, blonde braid and a backless dress. The force was enough to lose her balance on the stupid heels and slam into the wall next to her, her momentum and gravity then yanked her towards the ground. Just as she thought she would at least fall to her knees or kiss the dirty floor, a strong hand grabbed her bare, upper arm, keeping her upright. 

 She staggered drunkenly for a moment, her hands automatically reaching out to grip the shirt of the person who magically appeared in front of her, and really saving her from utter humiliation. No exaggerations. At all. Utter. Humiliation. 

 Once her mind refocused on no longer falling to her demise, the first thing she noticed was that whoever was holding her was definitely a man. Not just because the person was taller than her, but the sheer size of the pecks underneath her fisted hands in his shirt and the broad shoulders were a dead giveaway. Even one handed, this person was holding her upright with ease. The second thing she noticed was his scent. Yes, she knew that thought was beyond creepy but her body decided to take notice. Not her fault. Obviously. She just got to enjoy the repercussions. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it should be illegal to wear out in public. It conjured images of a fire in a hearth, bourbon, hot sex under furs and debauchery. 

 In the next moment, she lifted her gaze, wanting - no, needing to know who this man was. To thank him for saving her. Of course. That was it. Yep. Not to sear his image into her brain to fantasize about later. Not at all.  

 As her eyes met his, any words of thanks died on her tongue. For whatever working brain cells she had left silenced under his gaze. Staring down at her was the most vivid, gorgeous and terrifying blue pair of eyes that both soothed and scorched under their allure. 

 He never spoke a word, just stared at her. His hand held onto her upper arm as if worried she was suddenly going to drop. 

 Later, she would blame it on the combination of his touch, that intense look in his gaze and his cologne that made her act irrationally. So, before her mind could convince her how stupid she was, how reckless this was, how outside of her normal behavior she was acting…

 ...she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him. 

 His lips were surprisingly soft against hers but unmoving. Slowly she retracted, hurt by his inaction but honestly not surprised. It was probably for the best. This idea was a failure from the start. She did not even know the guy, he just saved her from falling. She should have said 'thank you' and walked away…. not…. not kissed him! Opening her eyes to meet his now painfully hardened gaze, it only confirmed her stupidity. Before she could apologize and retreat to hide away from the world for at least the next century, he spoke. 

 "Are you drunk?"

 His abrupt, harsh question startled her. Her answer tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could filter the proper response. 

 "What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She tried to pull away from him, face flushed from embarrassment. What had she been thinking? This was why she never just made-out with random guys. Whatever self-esteem she had evaporated beneath his piercing gaze. Her ex had called her frigid but this….

 His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm, not enough to hurt but to certainly impede her desire to run away. His eyes bored into hers as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. It was now, caught in this trap of his gaze, that she noticed the predatory glint in his eyes. She wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like while staring down a wolf, too frightened to move away. Well in her case, she was probably more of a hamster than rabbit. At least rabbits were fast and could try to hide. A hamster had no ability to outrun or outsmart a wolf. And everything about him screamed predator. 

 "Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and took a step to the side. 

 "Wha...what?" 

 He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you."

 A sharp shiver ran down her spine at the severe scrutiny sent her way but for some reason found herself agreeing. "Ohhh….um, ok." Her friends had wanted her to make-out with someone right? 

 She followed him, carefully ogling him from behind. The nice button-down he wore only accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders, plus with the sleeves rolled up and those toned forearms on show, he could have easily been just walking out of a photoshoot for some fashion magazine. Even the dark wash jeans and white Adidas sneakers could not deter from his overall striking appearance. His dark hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, something she had never seen before but it gave him a serious look instead of it being comical. 

 Surprise coursed through her when he started up the few steps leading to the VIP section. Somewhere she had never been nor expected to go. Only people with money or connections were allowed to be in there. She wondered which one of the two he was. It was also now as she followed him that she happened to notice the slight limp in his gait which drew her attention to the braces around his legs. Her mind wandered with questions as to why he needed braces. Had he been in an accident recently? Or surgery? Should he even be up walking? 

 Once they ascended the few steps, passing the bouncer at the top of the stairs who only gave her a passing glance before returning his eyes to the rest of the club, she continued to trail him to a short 'L' shaped couch with a low table in front of it. There were short half walls around all of the arrangements giving the illusion of privacy for those seated on a couch. Glancing around quickly, she could hear laughter and see some heads over the partitions but no one seemed to have paid any attention to her and the stranger she followed. 

 The man dropped down unceremoniously onto the black leather couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Immediately, his intimidating gaze turned on her and she could not help but thickly swallow at the pure wicked look that sent shivers down her spine. Without a word, he held his hand out, beckoning her closer. 

 For the rest of her life, she would always question why she moved closer, why she took his hand, why she let him slowly guide her to straddling his lap. 

 All she knew was in the moment….it felt right. 

 "Good girl." He breathed out; rough, calloused hands held her hips steady over him. His fingers skimmed the hemline of her dress, now indecently high, almost no longer even covering her ass. 

 Her rational side screamed at her, reminding her she never did this, that she did not know this man. That if her family ever found out, gods forbid, they would probably disown her and not care if it left her starving in the streets due to her wanton behavior. Though their opinions no longer truly mattered in her life. 

 But her emotional side softly whispered that for once, to just give in, to let someone else be in control, to revel in the pleasure his touch brought forth. To throw caution and fidelity to the wind and enjoy life for once before she locked away her heart again. 

 Tipping her head forward, she pressed her lips to his once again. Where he had been unresponsive to her prior kiss, this time his lips slammed against hers, dominating and controlling. It sucked the very air from her lungs. Right now though, he could happily own all the oxygen she ever needed if he continued to kiss her like this. His hands slid to grab her ass, coaxing her even closer and drawing a needy moan from her. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in to explore as if he owned it. He kissed as if he was making love to her mouth and giving her a hint of what he would be like in bed. 

 Eventually she yanked her mouth from his, chest heaving and desperate for air. His head dropped to her chest and she gasped when she felt his tongue traced the line of cleavage her dress exposed. 

 "Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered, practically branding the words into her skin as his lips tasted her. Before she could move or question him, his tongue was back on her exposed skin. This time it slid up from the hint of the valley between her breasts up her chest and neck to end with him sucking just below her earlobe. A whine, or was it a purr, was all her brain could handle, so overwhelmed with sensations she had never experienced before. Sure she had been kissed before but it had never felt like this. It all felt so…. tame compared to what this man elicited out of her. As if her prior understanding of fire was only looking at a lit match; while now she could only stare, completely absorbed by the raging bonfire that threatened to touch the sky with its unending flames. 

 Her hands shifted from grasping his shoulders to keep her upright under his onslaught to gripping his face and forcing his lips back to hers. A heat continued to build in her belly, an inferno that she wanted to dive into without fear or care of being burned. Her hips ground against him, feeling his hardened length between her legs only spurred her on. 

 "Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth. 

 Before she realized it, the waves of pleasure and heat she had been riding exploded. She ripped her mouth away from his, head thrown back in a silent scream. She could feel his mouth move back to her exposed skin, kissing and sucking as he continued to grind under her. Her mind felt shattered into a million pieces but instead of frightening her, she felt pure bliss. Eventually she came back down from her high, her mind whirling with what just happened. 

 "What…." She licked her lips, wondering why her mouth was suddenly so dry. "What, um, was that?"

 "What are you talking about?" He asked smugly as he placed open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations. 

 "Um, that feeling… I just...wow…."

 He stopped to tilt his head slightly and meet her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

 Her eyes widened as realization swarmed her. Hastily, she tried to scramble off his lap but one of his hands grabbed the back of her neck, while the other still gripped her hip, forcing her to remain on his lap. His eyes scoured her, pupils blown wide but it was the dark, heated look in them that caused a whimper to slip from her lips. 

 "You never have…" he murmured, in something between surprise and a dangerous, boyish glee. Mumbling something in a foreign language, his wicked gaze never released her from looking away. One of his fingers returned to tracing her cleavage, teasing her occasionally as it dipped between her breasts only to continue its path. She could feel the heat slowly building in her core again, but if it was due to his touch or the devious smirk he wore, she was unsure. Never more had she felt like prey being toyed with by a hungry predator. 

 "Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He asked in such a filthy voice, it should never be allowed outside of a bedroom. 

 She whined, "please…" 

 Agonizingly slow, he leaned closer to her once again, his mouth just hovering over hers with a mischievous smirk that proved he knew what he was doing to her. 

 "Kari!"

 She jerked at the unexpected calling of her name. Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see Rachel and Alana both standing next to the bouncer at the top of the steps into the VIP section. Rachel was staring her down while Alana's blue eyes bounced back and forth between Kari and the man under her. 

 "It's time to go." Rachel yelled at her over the loud music, still easily heard this far away. 

 Kari turned back to...to him. "I need to leave."

 He nuzzled the crook of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way, before whispering into her ear. His hands never relinquished their hold on her. "Answer my question first."

 "I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

 His hand trailed around her neck so he could grip under her jaw, forcing her face back up to meet his. His vivid blue eyes covetous in their intensity. "Answer. Me." His breath ghosted over her lips. 

 "Yes." The single word came out in a just barely heard whisper. 

 A hesitation, a pause, as if both were frozen in the moment due to her confession. Then his mouth slanted over hers in a greedy kiss, as if claiming her through sheer willpower and his ardent touch. Unable to help herself, she moaned into the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as if clinging for her life.  

 "Stay." He whispered against her lips. 

 "I can't…"

 "I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." As if to emphasize his point, he rolled his hips under her, his hardened length pressing against her wet core. 

 "Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

 Deliberately slow, his grip on her loosened. First the hand on her neck, his thumb caressed her pulse point before dropping next to him on the couch. The hand on her hip glided up her body leaving a trail of fire in its wake, up to her arm and down it to her hand still clutching his shirt. Gently, almost reverently, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes stared into hers as he helped guide her off his lap to stand before him. The lust was still evident in his gaze but now she noticed something underneath, something hidden by the ferocity. Yet she could not name it. Though it made her want to pull his head to her chest and just hold him, let whatever the unnamed emotion there bleed from him and comfort him. 

 "KARI!"

 She jolted at the frantic call of her name, pulled away from gazing into his eyes. 

 "Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

 "I hope so." She smiled gently then stepped away, before she did something stupid like give the man her number. That would be too forward for her. Turning her back to the man, she walked towards her friends. 

 Once she reached them, Alana slipped her arm through hers and they started to follow Rachel down to the main floor. At the last second the brunette looked over her shoulder to glimpse him one more time. His elbows were on his knees, body leaned forward and eyes glued to her as if trying to commit everything about her to memory. 

 For the briefest of seconds when their eyes connected, his gorgeous blue meeting her blue-green, she considered returning to him. To see what happened next so she never would have to wonder. To try and label what lay behind the dangerous glint in his eyes that she glimpsed. 

 Then her steps brought her to the main floor and away from his piercing gaze. She was too much of a coward to give in and taste the forbidden fruit he so freely offered. Even if a part of her wanted too. Her family rules seared into her brain since birth would never allow her too. 

 Quickly, the three women headed towards the exit. Just before they reached it, Rachel directed them to a semi-secluded alcove. 

 "What the hell was that?" The angry blonde demanded, turning on Kari with a vengeance.

 "What?" 

 "No, don't you fucking 'what' me! We told you to make-out with someone, not plan on getting fucking murdered!"

 Kari almost stumbled back at the venom in Rachel's voice. Her eyes bounced back and forth between her friends, trying to understand what she obviously was missing. "What are you talking about? Murdered? He was nice…. I thought."

 "Nice? Oh, he was nice?" Rachel stared at her for a long moment in shock. With a huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she harshly asked her next question. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

 "Um, no... we...he didn't say his name." 

 "Gods, you are so stupid sometimes." 

 Alana cut in, before Rachel could continue to berate. Her doll-like face ranging in expressions from concern to pity and fear. "Kari," she spoke as if explaining a simple matter to a child, her blue eyes pleading and intent on her face, "that was Ivar."

 "Huh?" Kari stated, dumbly, mind not fully processing what that meant. 

 "You know…. Ivar Lothbrok…." Alana gave a pained smile, tugging on one of her large hoop earrings under her blonde, pixie cut,"....one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok."

 The sudden knowledge felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, freezing any semblance of warmth she may still have carried from their interaction. "What? I didn't…. are you sure?" 

 "Well the braces on his crippled legs should have been a damn giveaway." Rachel practically snarled. 

 Alana spoke back up, laying her hand on Kari's shoulder. "I know you haven't been here long but the Lothbroks have a…. reputation…. especially Ivar, for being, well, um, brutal. We just want you to be safe." She sighed and peeked over at Rachel. "Let's get out of here. Everyone else is waiting outside."

 "Ok." Was all Kari could say as her mind whirled with this new information. She followed behind them like a lost puppy, too absorbed in her thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. She could faintly hear Rachel harshly muttering something under her breath as they continued. 

 She knew who the Lothbroks were but kept that information to herself. Honestly, she probably knew more about that family than her friends did. She had listened to her uncle curse them enough times she had grown to associate their surname with a one-way ticket to the gates of Hell. If mortal enemies were a thing, her family and the Lothbroks would be that. 

 Her thoughts though stayed focused on a pair of brilliant, piercing blue eyes, soft, dark hair and a voice that called something out in her. There certainly was an aura of danger that hung over him like a shadow of doom plus with the predatory, wicked glint in his eyes, Kari could understand what they meant by dangerous. It was the other look her mind continued to replay over and over. Now away from him, she could pinpoint what it was. Vulnerability. When he asked her to stay- in anyone else she might have mistaken it for begging- that confidence he wore as a mask slid away just for a moment and allowed her to peek underneath. No wonder she wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him close. A part of her yearned to turn around and rush back to him to do that very thing. But her feet kept moving, following her friends. 

 She was not stupid, naïve maybe but not stupid. They wanted her to stay away from him. She could read between the lines well enough. Though if she encountered him again, she was unsure if she would be able to stay away…. or would want too. 

[skylawrites]

A/N: Hi! I wrote this a month or two ago, based on the song "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths. And it turned into this! It's Hurt/comfort. With some angst. Also I would like to mention that if any of my stories have a spelling or grammar error that I missed feel free to correct me! So I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt. Suicidal Thoughts. Yelling/fighting.

Davey was tired. He was tired of having to deal with this stress. The stress of everything going downhill. His family's health wasn't the best at the moment, and in a result he was being ignored. His basic needs being pushed aside because someone was worse off. He didn't want to resent his family but he didn't know how not to. How he was expected to be this perfect boy, when he too was human and made mistakes. His dad had gotten badly sick and now Davey had to work twice as hard as before to pay for the medical bills and so his family had a place to live.

    He had basically been put in charge of caring for Les because his mom was constantly at work. Which in its self was hard. How do you raise a child at age 17? He didn't even have his own life together.

     Davey was done.

     The cold wind whipped through his hair. The lights sitting the sidewalk seemed small from the edge of the building. The people looked like ants, each having a role in society's anthill. And what was Davey here for? He wanted to have a life. Be able to talk to his friends again. If he had any left, after distancing himself from them for so long.They probably hated him, didn't want anything to do with him.

    His feet were pressed against the edge. Looking below at the concrete, which he would soon hit. When he took this next step he would be gone. In a flash. No more running, no more hiding. Just gone. He wished he could say goodbye to Les one last time. But he couldn't back down now. Hopefully Les will understand. And someday grow to be a responsible, successful adult.

    Taking a deep breath and absorbing the last of the feel of New York. His home. Then he stepped off with one foot.

🗞🗞🗞

Jack and Crutchie stood in the streets. Walking to their rooftop in which they lived to settle down for the night. Jack sighed in frustration . Davey had been avoiding Jack for 2 weeks now. Why? He had tried to exchange conversation but every time Davey didn't seem to hear. He wasn't coming with the others to Jacobi's like usual. Nor had he seemed to talk to anyone else. Jack hadn't seen Davey smile in a long time. And to say the least he just missed Davey. Was it something Jack did or said? Maybe if he-

"What's that?" Crutchie asked snapping Jack out of his thoughts and back to reality. Crutchie was pointing towards the top of the building. It was hard to make out but jack saw a person. Standing dangerously close to the edge. Jack immediately understood what was going on and gasped.

"Crutchie keep heading home I'll be right there." He said urgency prominent in his voice. As he was running away he called behind him "if trouble arises go to the theatre!"

And with that Jack was off. Climbing the fire escape stair by stair, the rattling sound of metal resonating through the silent night air. When he made it to the top he shook with shock. 

    Davey started to fall. But something Jerked him back.  Something caught his body, hurling it back, Landing on top of someone with a thud. He hissed in pain.

     "What the hell dave,"

Davey would recognize the voice of Jack Kelly anywhere. But opposed to the confident, sarcastic, flirtatious tone he usually had his voice sounded weak, scared, hurt.

      Davey didn't respond. A hot tear glided down his face.

Jack placed a hand on Davey's shoulder. Looking him in the eyes.

"Why?" He whispered out.

    Davey didn't respond.

"WHY!?" Jack yelled.

     Davey couldn't look Jack in the eyes. His forced the words out of his mouth

     "Jackie I am so sorry..."

then he broke. Falling to his knees on the pavement. Sobs racking his frame.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

     Jack took his arms and wrapped them the other boy.

Chiding him. He stroked a hand through Davey's hair.

Tears spilled out of Jack's eyes as well.

    Davey cried until he had nothing left in him. He sat sniffling and gasping for air. He pushed away from Jack. Standing up.

     Jack stood as well. Both boys eyes were red from the crying.

     Davey turned to walk away.

"I should get going it's getting late,"

"You say that as if nothing ever happened."

Davey chuckled. Wiping his wet eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I guess I've got a few minutes to spare."

     Rain began to spill out of the dark clouds above. Smashing against the pavement.

     Jack looked at Davey then at the streets. He grabbed Davey by the arm. And led him down the stairs and off the roof of the building.

    As the ran became harder Jack's pace quickened. He hoped Cruthie had made it back to the rooftop alright. Just as he went to turn into an alleyway Jack ran into someone. He looked up, his eyes meeting none other than Oscar Delancy.

     "Oh my? If it isn't our favorite little newsboy." He snarled.

   Jack took a step back. Regaining his stance. Oscar raised a first. Morris's eyes caught Davey's and had a mutual moment of understanding. Morris grabbed his brothers fist before he could do any harm.

    "Let's get going. It's getting late." He said gesturing towards their apartment.

    Oscar looked pissed but didn't really have to energy to argue with Morris.

      He looked Jack in the eyes one more time and said, "don't think you're getting some special treatment Jack." Before flipping him off and leaving.

    Davey mouthed "thank you," to Morris and he nodded back.

     The rain began to come down harder. Thunder boomed. Davey and Jack exchanged a look.

      "My house is about a mile down." Davey said. "We can split paths now? Or you could come home with me?"

      Jack examined the sky. The wind was picking up speed.

      "I know a better place."

He pulled Davey about a block down until they were outside the theatre. Jack swung open the back door and Davey followed him inside.

      They stood gasping for air, clothed drenched.

       "Is that you Jack?" A voice called. As Medda appeared in front of the boys.

     "Yeah," Jack greeted her,

      She examined the boys and exclaimed "oh my, it is really coming down out there. Here take these."

      She threw 2 towels to jack and he took one a wrapped it around his shoulders and the other around Davey's. Medda looked over at Davey's tear-stained face.

     "Would you like some water dear?" She asked.

     Davey nodded. Medda turned to walk away, Jack stopped her.

      "May I get one too?"

     "Yes Jack," she called behind her.

      When she had left Davey went over to the nearest wall. He leaned and sunk to the ground in a sitting position. Plopping his face into his hands.

    Jack sat down next to him. And wrapped an arm around him in comfort.

     Davey sank into the embrace and sighed.

     "Jack, I am so sorry,"

     "Hey," Jack wiped the tears off Davey's face. "We went over this, I ain't mad."

     "I- I know but-"

     "There's no buts. I'm just happy your alive Dave."

     Davey let out a small laugh. And whispered "me too."

     Davey fiddled with his hair. Which stuck to the sides of his face. Dripping with rainwater.

     Jack noticed and took one of the towels by his side and ruffled it through Davey's hair. Davey burst out laughing. And playfully slapped Jack with the towel beside him. Jack lowered his hands placing the towel on the ground. Davey's hair was now just damp and had started to become frizzy.

     Miss Medda returned with the water a few moments later handing them over.

    They both thanked her.

     "If you boys need anything else, don't hesitate to ask alright?"

     "Alright." Jack confirmed.

     When she left again Davey leaned his head on Jack shoulder. Jacks face flushed a bright red. He rubbed soothing circles on Daveys back. Both boys sat for what seemed like hours. Before drifting off to sleep.

      Medda had come back into the room a little while later to find the boys soundly sleeping on each other's shoulders. She smiled to herself. Those boys really were made for each other.

1,396 words

A/N: If you ever feeling Suicidal please reach out. It's important for you to take care of your mental heath. And I know that times may be hard. And it may seem like it will never get better, but it will. So stay around. And find the thing that makes you want to stay.

      I hope you enjoyed that! And I should have another oneshot soon after I edit it! I hope all of you lovely humans have a wonderful day!! （＾∇＾）

- Sky ☁️

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twenty-Four - Broken

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter mentions and describes panic attacks and contains harsh insults. If you are triggered by it in some way, tread lightly or wait for the next chapter.

And I've had recurring nightmares

That I was loved for who I am

And missed the opportunity

To be a better man

Hoodoo - Muse

He remembered putting a cup together, once. She was lost, and she was hurting, and she was holding on to those shards like they were the broken pieces of her life, and she was bleeding. He held her from behind, offering all his strength, saying her life would be exactly like it was before, he would bring back her past self. She believed him. She let him lead her to bed, and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, only to break down crying the moment he closed the door. Perhaps words wouldn’t help anymore. He would show her.

He spent the night gluing those shards, glass piercing his fingertips, because he believed. He believed in her beauty, and that it should be maintained. He believed in his power to change the outcome, and he would, no matter what it would take.

He looked at the shattered whiskey glass, laying all around his study floor, and he wondered if he was staring at the broken pieces of his life now. He wondered if, like that other glass, he could still put them back together. But most importantly, he wondered if he believed. He believed in her beauty, and that it should be maintained, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. He didn’t know if he believed in his power to change an outcome, because all roads would lead to the same destination: loneliness.

Almost out of habit, he took a deep breath and got up from the floor, assuming his usual strong and stubborn attitude. He had no idea if he could make it, but he would try. He would bleed as much as necessary, but he needed to see that glass whole again. So he picked up all of the shards, one by one, and started putting them all back together.

He woke up hours later, with the sound of voices coming from his kitchen. But they weren’t the happy voices he was used to. They were hoarse, almost whispered, but mostly tired. He looked at the glued pieces on his desk that hardly resembled a glass. Maybe some things can’t be glued together. Maybe some things are irrevocably broken.

For a while, he allowed himself to believe he could also be put together, letting her lovingly handle his broken pieces, admiring how she dutifully and joyfully fit them all together. But the pieces he would let her see wouldn’t stay put, because there were other pieces he would never allow to come to light, and those were needed for a perfect fit. Eventually, those were the shards that mattered the most, the ones that would hurt her. His ugly side. And now that it showed, he could only accept himself as broken.

“What do you think you are doing?” He could still hear his father, in the back of his mind. “Crying won’t bring her back. Now quit being weak and go do something worthy of your time.”

Victor did what he did best, he swept the rest of his shards into a dark corner, and surrounded his heart with an ice cage, which was sturdier than glass. He got up with all the determination he could muster, hoping to chase away the tiredness in his bones, forcing himself to face the world.

He found his family having breakfast, Andrea at the counter, pouring herself some coffee, as Owen sat at the table, eating scrambled eggs.

“Do I really have to?” He heard his son complain.

“I’m sorry, Bug, but yes, we have to.”

Victor opened the kitchen door.

“But it’s the teacher’s last day tomorrow, and we prepared a farewell show for her. And she said she would show us pictures of the baby inside of her.” He whined, poking some food on his plate. “We made her a drawing and…” The boy trailed off, staring at his father with wide eyes.

Crack.

The scared look Owen gave him, so similar to the one he had when he came to their home, felt like a punch in his gut, shaking his icy wall violently. Owen feared him. Victor had lost his son’s trust.

“You’re up.” She spoke tentatively. “We tried not to wake you up.”

Her eyes were puffy, with large dark circles under them. It was clear that she had been crying all night.

Crack.

“I need to get ready for work.” He retorted, walking to the door.

“Wait, I need to talk to you… Victor!”

Victor ignored her, trying to get out of that kitchen as soon as possible. Although he deserved it, it hurt to see his family so distant from him, obviously upset by the way he had been acting for the last couple of days. He decided to avoid the situation completely, opting for a shower and change of clothes instead. Chances were that by the time he was done, Andrea would already be gone to take Owen to school.

The walls around his heart shook again, a major crack running deep in the icy surface, as he noticed an item on their bed. The open suitcase, filled with folded clothes, felt like a dagger stuck in his chest. Crack.

“Me and Owen…” He heard her behind him. For some reason she couldn’t continue, so the silence hung cold between them, as he kept staring at the suitcase. He wouldn’t be able to look at her anyway.

“I forgot to tell you, Olive asked me to go to Queensland, there is a potential partner there she wants me to talk to.”

Victor stood in place, as the ice he used as a defense mechanism was now spreading all over his body. His eyes never left the suitcase, as it could somehow spring into action and shred him to pieces.

“I’m taking Owen with me. The nanny is coming along as well. She will take care of him while I’m working. I'm considering spending a few days there, maybe try to visit the castle.”

You’re leaving me. Crack.

“You don’t have to worry about LCG, Diane will be on top of things and you can refer to her at any time. And me. If you want to.”

Fuck LCG. You are leaving me.

“I…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Things are not well between us. I’m not well and you’re not well. I figured we could use the time apart. Maybe talk when I get back.”

So you can serve me the divorce papers. Crack.

“It will be only for a few days.”

A wave of nausea hit him before he could say anything else, so hard that he thought he would vomit right there and then. But he knew this was something else. He needed to run, he needed to run fast. The walls were becoming unsteady, shaking with the feelings he wouldn’t let out. He had made that mistake last night, letting his anguish show, and despite his best efforts, it all came out in an ugly explosion, crashing her in its path. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

“Fine.” He croaked, trying to look as stable as he could, and he moved to the kitchen.

He held onto the marble counter with shaking hands, feeling drops of sweat drip from his forehead. He was so hot, he was unbearably hot, and the heat only made him sicker, a disgusting lining of pasty saliva on his tongue. He did his best to ignore his symptoms and remain focused, and only with great effort was he able to fill a glass of water and bring it to his lips.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you breathing like that?” His father’s voice echoed in his mind once again. “Control yourself, you look like a retard!”

He felt the cold marble under his fingertips, taking the time to compare it to the warmth of his body. He took another sip of water, focusing on how cool it felt on his tongue, feeling it soothe his queasiness.

Steady…

He paid attention to the sounds surrounding him, noticing his son’s voice as he talked with his mother from the bedroom wing, their voices vibrating through the apartment’s stillness. It was then that he noticed that he was alone in the kitchen. Alone. It was probably for the best, he didn’t want anyone to see him behaving so ridiculously, sweating and shaking like he was a drug addict.

I am alone.

She hadn’t followed him. Under normal circumstances, after such a conversation, she would’ve stormed off after him, pleading with him to talk, demanding a reaction. She just let him go. But what could he expect, anyway? She was an abuse victim, and he had thrown a glass at her. He remembered the frightened look in her eyes, probably the one she used with that abusive piece of shit of an ex, as she ran away from him, scared that he would beat her. Victor would never do such a thing, he wouldn't think of it. But then again, he never thought he would throw a whiskey glass at her, and he did. Not that he wanted to hurt her, he just wanted to make her go away. But still, he did.

No matter how hard he tried, he would always hurt the ones he loved. His mother’s fate was to die alone in Paris, in some random hospital room, with faceless nurses witnessing her final moment. Mina, who so dearly took him and supported him through those trying times, also died alone on the kitchen floor, with a stroke. He was, as usual, too busy with his life, with his empire, too busy to call, too busy to reach out to the woman that practically raised him, and that same woman, who was always by his side when he needed her, didn't have him when she needed him the most. The guilt was agonizing, but it felt like a very small price to pay for being so cruel.

“You are poison. Bound to kill everything you touch.”

Maybe he was like his father, his father did the exact same thing with him. He ignored his son, and made him feel so small in his life, because everything else was so much bigger, and no matter what Victor did, he could never get his father’s love. Andrea saw through that immediately. Her accusation was as accurate as it was painful, Victor was doing the same thing with his family. He was alienating them, and Victor wasn’t even sure anymore why. It was pain, but it was also pride… Not that it mattered.

Victor tried to take a deep breath in, wanting to calm the turmoil in his mind, only to find he couldn’t, like some invisible hand was crushing his lungs from the inside. He held on tight to that counter, trying his best to steady himself, as his vision started to blur and another wave of nausea came. The glass Victor was holding shattered on the kitchen floor. If that was him, if he fell on the ground and broke into pieces, no one would come to put him back together. Rightfully so, he didn’t deserve such kindness.

“Victor!”

He could barely see or breathe, let alone hear her, as a crippling fear took over. All he knew was that he was getting his deserved punishment, to die alone on the kitchen floor, just like he let Mina die, while his family bantered in the other room. He felt a deep stab in his chest, so painful that he lost control of his legs, and started to fall. He would break into pieces and die there. That was his end.

Except he didn’t. His fall was broken by something soft and warm, and arms enveloped him, as he was slowly guided to the ground.

“It’s alright, I’m here.”

He felt her hand touch his. He grabbed it like it was a lifeline, like it somehow could save him, as panic was fully taking control.

“You’re having a panic attack.” Her voice sounded softly in his ear. “It will go away, but you have to breathe deep for me, can you do that?”

“I… I can’t breathe. I think I’m having a heart attack.” He wheezed. “Andy…”

“Yes you can, you just have to stay focused.” She gave his hand a light squeeze. “Here, can you feel this?”

He felt his lungs burning with each shallow breath, making it impossible for him to speak. He nodded.

“Just focus on that feeling. When I squeeze, you try to inhale as deeply as you can. When you exhale, you squeeze back, can you do it?”

Victor’s vision was more distorted by the minute, a wave of dizziness making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Gonna... pass out…” He warned.

“It feels that way, but you are not going to pass out, you just need to breathe. Here, I’m squeezing. Deep breath in…”

Victor ignored the pain in his chest and inhaled as deeply as he could, letting out a ragged breath after.

“See? You can do it. Let’s try again.”

He focused hard on the warmth of her hand and on his breathing, following her instructions as best as he could. The pain in his chest seemed to subside a little.

“Is Dad ok?”

Owen.

Victor’s breath caught in his chest again, as panic flooded his mind.

Owen.

Owen, please don’t look at me.

“Everything’s ok, Bug, Dad will be ok. Go to your room and wait for me there.”

“Is he dying?” He could hear the boy cry.

He grabbed Andrea’s hand tight, begging for help. He was dying, and his son would see it. His chest felt tighter, the air wouldn’t come in, he was having a heart attack, it never had been this bad, he could feel it.

A thousand scenes flashed into his mind, all agonizing, all begging for his attention. His father’s voice spoke with disdain as he laid on the floor, fighting to catch a breath.

“You are pathetic! Is that how you intend to carry our name?”

He was just a child. How could he be so callous?

“You’re not alone, I’m right here. Just squeeze my hand and breathe in.” His wife squeezed his hand tight. He squeezed back, forcing in a painful breath.

“Focus on my voice.” She spoke again. “It will be over soon, I promise.”

“Hello? Mister?” Owen cried. “My Dad is dying, we need help.”

“No, Owen, don’t!” She urged. “Hang up the phone, nobody’s dying!”

“He can’t breathe, and my mom is holding him…”

“Owen! It’s ok! Dad will be ok!”

This was his darkest hour. He was that glass in the study, shattered beyond repair. And still, Andrea held all his shards, ignoring the sharp edges piercing her skin.

“Don’t worry, Owen will be ok.” She spoke to him in a soft voice. “Just focus on your breathing.”

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

… can you forgive me?

Author's Note: This project has been going for a year now (it started in February 2020) and it won't be over any time soon, so I would like to ask you, as much as possible, for your support, because we still have a very long way to go. So, if you enjoy the work, don't forget to comment and reblog. It gives it traction and enables other people to learn about it, and for me to get more excited about what I do.