#i was very anxious to do this last night. i had a hard time falling asleep

[britneyshakespeare]

oh my god am i so fucking tired

[appleblueberry-pie]

Hello again, I hope you are having a good day. May I please request for Yandere Nanami wherein he miscalculates how long his business trip would be and he comes home to emotionally wrecked and hungry darling ( He locked them in the closest as a punishment prior) which leads to hurt comfort between the two

Nanami opened the front door and kicked off his shoes, sighing in disappointment at his timing and at how late at night he got back at. Traffic was terrible, his shoes weren't as comfortable as they were this morning, and he missed you terribly. He ran his fingers through his hair that no longer mattered now that he was indoors and put his suitcase out of sight.

He was going to call out that he was home, but reminded himself that he still had you cooped up in that shitty basement. He walked through the house and into the kitchen to finally get you a glass of water. He was only supposed to be on that business trip for around two days and be back home by the time the third day ended. The basement was very spacious, but even he had his limits in there. Which is why it was a great punishment, in his mind. He had enough of your mouth and you attempted to escape after almost sending him over the edge all in one day. But he still worried for you. There were no lights or any sense of comfort in there. At this point, he just wants you in his arms again. The thought makes his heart race in excitement. You must feel so lonely, feel so anxious, so cold, and

You freeze when you turn and see Nanami standing a few feet away from you, watching you shove your fifth slice of bread into your mouth. The two of you mirrored the same look of horror as you acknowledged one another. Nanami's face contorts into one of realization while yours continues to drop. Your stomach twists in fear at the sight of your captor finding you outside of your confinement and suddenly you feel nauseous and no longer desire any kind of elements of nutrition.

Pieces of food that weren't swallowed fall out of your mouth in fear and surprise and you scatter off to the nearest room with a lock and you slam it shut, fiddling with the lock and somehow manage to turn it with terribly shaky hands. It's hard to breath and you hyperventilate as you scoot into a corner, keeping yourself huddled.

Kento was still stuck in place, his mouth open in complete shock. You had ransacked the entire kitchen. He lets his eyes scan over everything on the ground. Almost nothing in the cabinets or fridge was left untouched, so many things left open and touched by his poor, poor girl's fingers. Juice, crackers, the bread you tore into, butter, cereal, refrigerated rice, half-eaten boxes of vegetables and fruits, uncooked noodles......it didn't end there.

The more his eyes found laying around, the heavier his heart got. This was all his fault. He didn't mean to......do this to you. Not at all. His eyes flutter shut as he rubs them, a sigh leaving his mouth. This wasn't supposed to happen. He inhaled sharply to gather more courage to step past the obvious signs of severe neglect he had done to you.

He could hear your fast-paced breathing from outside of the guest-bedroom and shakes his head in shame. He was so fucking ashamed of being so irresponsible with taking care of you. He was supposed to be your lover, your caretaker, the one you should be able to trust. But it seems like he can't even do any of those things right. He was wrong. "I'm sorry." His throat felt like it was constricting his vocals as he chokes out the apology. No kind of words or affirmations could change what he did to you and he wanted to be able to help you see that.

His face was so close to the door, as if he could speak through it into your heart. The last thing he'd do is force you into anything. He deserved to work for your trust back. "I'm so sorry, baby, please." There wasn't much he could make himself say. His ears picked up on your silent sobs and he dropped his forehead on the door, his hands on it as well. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I just wanna see you. It's been so long, hm? Since we last saw each other? I just want to hold you."

You didn't know how to feel. You just did something so very, very wrong. This is the type of behavior that gets you in the basement and a chain on your ankle for decoration. You broke out and practically flipped the kitchen upside-down. What isn't he going to do to you??? You didn't even realize yourself speaking through your tears. Constant 'leave me alone's slipped through your lips as you cried. You were so damn scared of what he'd do to you.

Outside the door, Kento shakes his head at your words and presses the side of his face to the door to hear you better. "No, no, no, no, baby. I won't hurt you, I promise. Can you please trust me just this once? I just want to make sure you're okay. You're hungry, I can tell. Just let me help you and you can get all of the food you want, okay??" Kento shakes the doorknob subconsciously, which makes you gasp in fear. Kento flinches away from it when he hears you make the sound and immediately and tells you he won't do it again.

He continues trying to verbally sooth you through the door, telling you repeatedly that it's okay. "....Everyone has limits. And I pushed you to yours." You wipe your face of your tears and push yourself to your feet.

Slowly, you hesitate, but take your quiet steps towards the door. Nanami can't hear anything on the other side. Are you okay? Why are you quiet? Are you trying to escape through the window??? It's bolted. Never mind. He's worried. "Darling?" He silently whispers. All he gets is the sound of his own breaths.

Then the loud sound of the lock clicks and he takes a step back. The door cracks open, extremely slowly. It's almost impossible to tell. You only leave enough space to look through about 1 inch to peek at him through the door. And even with that much to look at, he can tell you are so scared. He shouldn't have done this. The constant anxiety this is giving him continues to make his stomach cramp. A wobbly smile makes its way onto his face. "There she is! Can you-.....please let me take you out of that room?" He stumbles over his words, his arms awkwardly spreading out to seem as if he's friendly.

The silence you let grow only leaves room for more interpretation. You just stare at him with that stone cold eye. Almost as if you're trying to see through him. But nothing is hiding behind his face but the constant stress he's getting from stressing you out. He obviously loves you too much. He gets overprotective sometimes.

You open the door and step out and his shoulders relax as he very carefully looks over you. You used the bucket. Which was good. So, you were at least somewhat clean. You just looked.....hungry. Your face seemed slimmer, your eyes sunken in exhaustion(not that much, but he's great at details when it comes to you).

Before you could stop him, he was cleaning the kitchen and got to running you a bath and making dinner.

[veryberryjelly]

hold on

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary : reader reveals to carmen that she has a hard relationship with food.

a/n ; content warnings for disordered eating, throwing up, talks of disordered eating. i am not romanticising eating disorders !! loooong boy. 1.2k words

𝐍𝐀𝐕���𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

you never thought this would have been an issue.

you had never been in a relationship long enough for it to be important.

but 3 months.

you had to tell him.

but you had no idea where to start with admitting it.

somehow in the three months of dating carmen you had managed to avoid any conversation relating to your issues.

you had been out to dinner a few times, but every time you managed to find something easy or small.

and if you weren't able to do that, you had gotten good at making a plate look like you had eaten some if not most of it.

the issue only really came to a head when you had arranged to stay over at carmen's place after he cooked for the both of you.

you had been stressing over it for the last two days about something so simple as him cooking for you.

along with his insistence to keep it a secret what he was making, you were getting anxious about it.

your anxiety riddled mind was quietened when carmen opened the door to his apartment and your eyes met his.

the soft, relaxed smile on his lips mirrored onto your own.

" hey sweetheart, come in. dinner shouldn't be too long, just finishing up "

the mention of food brought almost all of your anxiety back.

you shut the door behind you as you walked in, setting your bag down on his couch as you headed towards the kitchen.

" gonna tell me what you're making yet ?" you questioned, keeping your voice level as you leant against the counter.

you could spot a few elements of the meal carmen was making, but none that would tell you what he was making.

you were almost relieved to spot a salad on the counter.

you might be able to get through this meal without feeling the urge to throw up.

" spaghetti bolognese "

two words that had your stomach falling.

carbs were very hard for you, but you couldn't not eat what carmen had cooked for you.

you took a slightly shuddering breath which was thankfully hidden from carmen as he tended to his sauce.

" sounds delicious "

thankfully, both of you talked through most of dinner, and it wasn't out of place for your fork to just rearrange your food instead of pick it up and eat it.

the few bites that you did take were mostly salad, apart from two initial bites of the pasta when you first sat down, which was hard to swallow.

after dinner you offered to do the dishes, practically insisting. you didn't want carmen to see how little of his food you had eaten.

he wouldn't let you do it all on your own and offered to at least dry up after you.

he didn't see the amount of food from your plate that ended up in the trash.

you definitely felt guilty about throwing it away, but you couldn't physically stomach the food or telling him after he made so much effort.

after you finished cleaning up the two of you were quick to retire to the couch for a movie.

carmen's arm wrapped around your shoulders and the steady beating of his heart underneath your ear wasn't enough to erase the burning feeling in your stomach or the gags you could feel climbing up your throat.

it got to the point where you couldn't take it anymore.

you muttered a quick excuse before rushing towards the bathroom.

you should've known that carmen would be hot on your heels the moment he heard you emptying your guts into the toilet.

you heard his voice behind you muttering a short string of curses when he opened the door.

the next thing you knew, his hands were swiftly collecting your hair from the base of your neck to keep it from getting messy.

after you had nothing more to give, you flushed the toilet and leant back to move away from it, only to be met with the solid feeling of carmen's chest against your back.

" 'm sorry. didn't mean to ruin your night " you muttered quietly, your eyes not lifting from your lap.

" baby, you didn't ruin anything. just want you to tell me why you're throwin' up after you barely ate anything "

a shiver of dread raced down your spine.

" thought maybe you just didn't like the food but now i'm thinking that something's wrong "

his voice was warm and comforting even if what he was saying was chilling you to your bones.

you had to tell him.

you began twisting the towel that carmy had handed you in your hands.

" what's going on, baby ?" he questioned, his hand lifting to brush some hair behind your ear as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss onto the fabric of your sweater.

you were silent for a few minutes, but carmen never pushed you to speak, only waited until you were ready.

" there's something wrong with me carmen... i- i hate feeling full. i can't eat like a normal person. i don't- " a sob wracked through your chest as you spoke.

carmen's arms wrapped tighter around you as tears began falling down your cheeks.

he held you there until the tears stopped, and even a little bit longer.

when he finally stood from the floor and walked out of the bathroom you thought he was done.

that he didn't want to deal with a girlfriend with these kids of issues, especially as a chef.

but when he returned a few moments later with your pyjamas and your toothbrush all of those feelings disappeared.

he delivered them to you with a kiss to your temple before he was back out again.

you didn't question him, or say anything, just brushed your teeth and washed your face before changing into your pyjamas, a pair of long pants and a t-shirt that carmen had given to you with 'the beef' logo on your chest.

after folding up your other clothes you padded out into his living room, keeping your head down as you put your clothes in your bag.

but you couldn't avoid it any longer.

you found carmen in the kitchen pouring hot water into two mugs from his cabinet.

you were only sat down for a moment before he came over with both mugs in his hand and slid one towards you.

chamomile.

your hands wrapped around the warm receptacle.

there were a few moments of silence before you heard the voice you found so much comfort in.

" why didn't you tell me ? " he questioned, his voice the farthest thing from accusational.

" didn't want to scare you off. most people go running when they find out. wanted to hold on a little bit longer " your voice was nothing more than a whisper and your eyes were burning into the mug of tea in your hands.

carmen wasted no time in moving around the counter to stand beside you, his hand moving to tilt your chin up and bring your gaze towards him.

" i'm not goin' anywhere, baby. but you gotta let me help. "

his thumb began moving against your cheekbone, and that simple action was all you needed before you wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his t-shirt. his arms held you close to his chest.

" could you give me a ride to my therapists tomorrow ? "

" anything, baby "

[thebearer]

fall into me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: part 2 of follow me. your date with carmen.

contains: fluff. anxious carmen. mentions of mikey. but all fluff :)

Carmen was sure he was going to be sick. A new kind of sickness, where his stomach felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth and ass at the same time. He changed his outfit six times, slacks and a tie felt too formal. Jeans felt out of the question, and while the very cool guy on TikTok swore that slacks and t-shirts were in this season… Carmen couldn’t bring himself to wear it. 

So he wore his slacks, good shoes he still had from pretentious meetings in the restaurant, and his good button down, a steely type blue- the saleswoman told him it really complimented his eyes, then wrote her number on his receipt. Of course, Carmen didn’t call it. He’d never allow himself the simple pleasures like that. 

Carmen smoked the whole way to the restaurant, a bottle of cologne in his pocket, which he doused himself in on the corner, popping a mint. He saw you standing there, awkwardly on your phone by the light pole, head ducked to your screen in your black, silk, cowl neck dress. Carmen could feel his heart jump at the sight of you, cursing while he started to jog in the still new shoes. 

“Hey, shit, sorry.” Carmen apologized, his chest tightening and burning as he slowed in front of you. “I-I couldn’t find my phone.” Definitely not because I tried on a million different outfits and had a panic attack.

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t text me back. Thought you ghosted me at your own restaurant.” You quipped, his heart plummeting, face falling with it. You grinned, shoving your phone in your tiny purse. “‘M fucking with you, Carm. I just got here.” 

“Oh,” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, good. That-That’s good. Do you want to go in?” 

“Sure.” You giggled. “After you, Chef.” 

“C’mon.” Carmen laughed lightly, shaking his head, hoping it would hide his burning cheeks. You were ahead of him, reaching for the door, his heart skipping when he saw it. “I got it!” 

You drew your hand back, looking at him carefully. The blush in his cheeks spread down to his neck. “I-I got it, let me get it.” Carmen nodded, pulling the handle. You glided past him, his hand ghosting on the small of your back, leaving you shuddering under his touch. It was casual, you doubted he even knew he did it, just a slight usher while he followed you in. 

“It’s so different being here at night.” You whispered to him, your arm brushing his while you walked to the hostess station. 

Carmen nodded. “I know, it’s, uh, it’s nice to see it like this, ya know?” He muttered. “See it from a customer’s perspective.” 

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” You asked, your head tilting to the side softly. “Why we’re kinda doing this?” 

Carmen’s heart fell, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He could feel his own mind racing. Of course, you didn’t think this was a date. Why would you ever want to be on a date with him?

“I mean, yeah, sorta. Here f’you too. To thank you for everything.” Carmen nodded, eyes cutting to yours. Fuck, he knew he needed to look at you, he wanted to look at you, but it was so fuckin’ hard. When you looked so pretty, so effortlessly calm and cool. It made him fluster. 

“C’mon, Carm. You hired me, paid me. And you guys have been so nice. Most places are… horrible. Act like I’m bothering them when they hired me. You’ve got a good place, great staff. I’m glad you wanted me to be a part of it for a while.” You smiled, stepping up to the hostess station.

Carmen could feel his heart squeeze, an uncomfortably tight realization that this would be the last time he saw you. He’d been running numbers all night, seeing where he could take cuts so he could keep you, but even then, you’d be gone for at least another two months since you already took another job. By then, whatever you had here, would be gone. 

“Ah, there you are, the VIP customers for the night.” Richie schmoozed, sliding behind the hostess stand. 

You grinned, Carmen’s eyes downcast making Richie’s jaw tick. “How are you two this evening?”

“Great.” You beamed. “Excited to try this place. I’ve never been here before. Heard it’s the best in Chicago.” You nudged Carmen playfully with your hip, grinning at him. 

He gave you a tight lipped smile, hands by his side, trying to nonchalantly wipe his hands on his slacks. Richie smiled at you, glaring lightly at Carmen. “Well, you heard right, sweetheart. We want your night to be extra special, so we have this booth back here just for the two of you.” 

“Hey, Syd,” Tina muttered, looking up from her plating to see your head pass with Carmen’s curly locks. “They’re here.” 

“Shit, are they?” Sydney turned, looking through the window. “God, Carmen looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

“Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?” Sugar huffed, her hands on her hips. 

Richie caught Sugar’s eye through the window, a flickering glance that told her exactly what she needed to know. “So, I will have the focaccia out for the two of you shortly. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” 

“‘M good.” Carmen muttered, taking the leather bound menu into his hands, knee bouncing under the table. 

You looked a little uncomfortable, eyes cutting to Carmen’s before a moment of hesitation flashed over your face. “Uh, I’ll take a glass of whatever you think would pair best with the meal?” 

“Perfect. I’ll have that out.” Richie smiled, hoping his silent screams at Carmen would be enough for him to catch on. Fak passed, slipping a piece of paper in Richie’s hand. Richie stepped away, reading Sugar’s scribbled writing: “GET CARMEN BACK HERE NOW!!!!” 

“Excuse me, folks,” Richie greeted apologetically, though the two of you weren’t talking. “Carmen, I hate to do this, but I need you just for a second, ok?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth without so much as looking at you. Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’ll just be a second. That focaccia and riesling are on the way.” Richie grinned at you, stepping beside Carmen. 

“What’s goin’ on? Did we run out of-” 

“-No, you fuckin’ moron.” Richie huffed, letting the door slam shut. “The fuck is your problem, huh? You’re not even- hey, send that to six with the Cakebread white, ok?- You’re not even looking at her, c’mon, Cousin.” 

Carmen blushed, running a hand through his hair. “What? I-I’m talkin’ to her-” 

“-No, you’re not.” Sugar snapped, rounding the corner. “You look like an ass, Carmy. You’re on a date with her and-” 

“-It’s not a date.” Carmen shook his head, brushing it off. 

Sugar blinked. “You’re on a date with her,” She repeated, her tone firmer- a mom tone she’d adapted since working here that would help with the baby. “And you’re acting like a total-total…” Sugar waved her hands, stuttering over the word. 

“Jagoff.” Neil added, passing through the kitchen for a moment before going out the doors. 

“Thank you! Yes! A total jagoff.” Sugar glared at Carmen. 

“I-I don’t even think she thinks it’s a date-” 

The kitchen erupted in groans, shouting at him irritatedly. “Look at how she’s dressed. If she thought this was a free meal ticket, she wouldn’t wear that. That is a date night dress.” 

“That’s true.” Sydney added. 

Carmen couldn’t help the way his heart flipped with excitement, looking out the window at you, sitting at the table, nursing your wine slowly- alone. 

“Cousin, c’mere,” Richie motioned him, leading him towards the office. “Look, I get you got this whole ‘I deserve nothing good’ doom and gloom attitude, but that right there. That’s good.” Richie jabbed his finger towards the door. “I see you, ok? You guys got that cute little texting thing goin’ on, alright?” 

Carmen stilled. He felt like a teenager again, being teased and tormented by Mikey and Richie about a crush he had. How the fuck did he know about your texting? “Look, if you let her go tonight without even trying, you’re gonna regret it. You only got one chance, cousin, do not miss your chance to blow.” Richie said seriously. 

“Don’t fuckin’ quote Eminem to me right now-” 

“-Alright, alright, but seriously?” Richie nodded into the office, the tiny frame that held Mikey’s note ‘Let it rip!’. Carmen felt his stomach turn, guilt trilling in it. He knew Richie was right and that fact alone made him queasy. “Listen to Mikey, alright? You can have good shit in your life.” 

Carmen looked at the photo, taking a grounding breath, Mikey’s voice ringing loud in his ears. “Let it rip.” Carmen muttered, pushing past the double doors back to you. 

“Oh, no way!” You laughed. “You don’t have TikTok?” 

“No, no. Don’t have time for it.” Carmen shrugged, sipping his water. 

“Then how do you watch our videos?” You asked, brow raising in question. 

“I click the link you send me and it opens up just on my Google or whatever.” Carmen grinned, shrugging lightly, popping another truffle fry in his mouth. He’d nearly fallen over when you asked for ranch, teasing you lightly. You’d only shrugged, sticking one in your mouth, declaring it would taste better with ranch. You were kidding, of course, it was perfect. 

“Wow.” You smirked, finger tracing around the rim. “You’re missing out. It’s addictive.” 

“Yeah? It’s weird too.” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“Says you! You’re Mr. TikTok Famous and you don’t even know it.” You pushed his arm lightly, trying not to gawk at how firm his biceps were. Sure, you’d definitely seen them while he was working, but… they felt better than they looked. “Should see how you’ve got everyone in a tizzy. Chopping onions and marinating wagyu.” 

Carmen laughed, cheeks reddening at the compliment. “Yeah, those comments were…shocking.” 

“You think?” You cocked your head to the side. “I thought they were pretty normal.” 

“Half of them were asking me to violently punch them.” Carmen laughed, eyes widening at you. 

“Well, can you blame them?” You grinned, leaning in closer. “You got nice hands. Of course, they’re going feral. I knew what I was doing with that shot. Giving the people what they want.” 

Carmen blushed furiously, hoping you couldn’t see under the low light of the restaurant. “Nah, c’mon.” He looked down at his fingers, etched with tattoos. 

“You c’mon.” You grinned, reaching out a little daringly to trace a finger over his veins. You’d blame the wine for your boldness, but Carmen shivered under your touch. “You’ve got hot hands. No wonder they all go so crazy. You’re a pretty chef with good hands.” 

Carmen knew you had to see his blush now, sure his body temperature went up ten degrees, heart beating so bad in his chest he was sure he wasn’t going to make it another course. “Uh,” Carmen laughed, running his free hand over his mouth, hoping to hide some of his grin. He didn’t dare move his hand from his. “Well, thanks, I guess. I, um, I wanna say I think the same.” 

You lifted a brow, biting back a laugh when he stuttered, his eyes widening. Your giggles were infectious to him, a stream of his own nervous laugh spilling out of his throat. “No, I-I meant- fuck, I meant… I, uh, I think you’re pretty.” 

There was a pause, your own teeth pulling in your lip, grinning shyly at him. “Really?” You asked. You felt like you were in junior high again, finding out the boy on the JV team like liked you. It was giddy, the feeling in your chest. Warm, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Beautiful, really.” 

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, hoping to hide your smile behind your own glass of wine. Fak came by, dropping your next course off, a temporary relief for the moment, letting the two of you get yourselves together. 

“You think he’ll do it?” Sugar asked, pretending to roll silverware while Richie handed them to her. A meaningless job that just so happened to be by the window, so they could see the two of you. 

“I dunno. Could go either way.” Richie sucked in a breath. “He seems to be close, ya know? Think he has it in him to do it, just… fuck, I hope he does.” 

“Me too.” Sugar sighed. “Can you hear what they’re saying? It looks… nice? So that’s gotta be good, right?” 

“Yeah, hopefully…” Richie hummed, squinting to try and make out the words you were whispering to each other. The two of you were pressed together, migrated together as the meal went on until you were huddled, like it was the two of you. 

“I really don’t want you to leave.” Carmen admitted, body pressed to yours, hand in yours in the dim light of the booth. Everyone had left, all the patrons shuffled out and escorted to their cars. Some of the kitchen staff went home, but some stayed, pretending to be extra tedious with their cleanup so they could see the two of you. 

“I know. I’m having such a good time with you.” You agreed, tilting your chin up to look at him, lashes batting, eyes a little glossy from the wine. 

“No- I mean, yeah I-I’m having a good time with you, too. But I meant… leave forever.” Carmen admitted, the lump in his throat growing more and more with each word. “I really liked having you here.” 

“I liked being here.” You hummed, tongue running over your bottom lip lightly. “It was a lot of fun. I liked spending time with you.” 

“Yeah? I liked spending time with you too. A lot.” Carmen admitted. “And I… I want to keep spending time with you?” It came out more as a question, all hopeful eyes and a rounded gaze. “If-If you want to-” 

“-Yeah.” You grinned. “I wanna keep spending time with you. I like being with you, Carmen.” 

“Yeah? Really?” Camren was half convinced he was hallucinating. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “If you wanna spend some more time with me too. I’d like to get to know you more, and not to just write a staff spotlight on.” You giggled, his lips curling at the sound. “To, like, really get to know you.” 

“I would… yeah, I’d like that. Like to get to know you too.” Carmen nodded. 

There was a pause, the tension between the two of you was thick. Your eyes darted from his lips back to his eyes, already leaning closer. Carmen could feel his stomach lurch with nerves, Mikey’s voice ringing over and over and over. 

Let it fuckin’ rip, Carmen thought before he moved in, lips on yours. His hands were clammy cradling your jaw but you didn’t seem to mind, your own arms snaking their way around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. 

“Holy shit!” Richie gasped, dropping the fork. “Look! Fuckin’ look!” 

The staff clambered around to huddle by the window, watching the two of you kiss, pulling apart with small smiles, before going back in. Carmen’s hands sliding down your back, your arms, your waist- fuck, he just loved feeling you like this, and he hadn’t even felt all of you. Yet. 

“He fuckin’ did it.” Richie grinned, awing at Carmen. “Hey, Sug, might be a bad time, but I believe I’m owed fifty dollars.” 

You pulled apart, grinning at Carmen, still huddled close together, his hands rubbing the silk fabric of your dress, your sliding through the curls on the nape of his neck. Your mind was dizzy, the rush of adrenaline, emotion, and buzzing from the wine. 

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow?” Carmen asked. 

“Nothing.” You hummed. “Why? You’ve got something in mind?” 

“Not-Not right now, actually.” Carmen admitted with a small laugh. “But I’d love to do something with you.” 

“Me too.” You smiled. 

Carmen looked around, catching his staff standing in the window, rolling his eyes when they darted after he caught them, scampering in different directions. “Um, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Carmen looked at you, fingers drumming on his thigh- that was still touching yours. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at your phone. “I guess I should go, and I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth then offering his hand to help you. “Did you walk here?” 

“No, I took the L.” You walked towards the door beside him. It was quiet, the soft hum from the kitchen, the muffled clatters of pots and pans being put away. 

“Me too. I’ll ride back with you?” Carmen offered. 

“I thought you lived like three blocks away?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side. “And I’m in the opposite direction.” 

“Yeah, I-I do.” Carmen nodded. “I just… You shouldn’t ride alone at night, ya know? Shit could happen and… I don’t want it to. To happen to you.” 

You could feel the heat flushing through your cheeks, through your chest. You laughed lightly. “Is this your way of trying to come home with me?” You lifted a brow playfully. 

“No! No.” Carmen shook his head, flustered, which made you laugh harder. 

“I’m kidding, Carm.” You giggle, reassuring him. “But… if you wanted to come stay the night. Since it’s late… and you’re insisting on coming with me on the L.” 

“I don’t wanna make-make it weird, or come off like that. I-I really am… I like you.” Carmen stuttered. Fuck, there was nothing more tempting than that invite, but Carmen didn’t want to fuck this up. He really didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“I mean, stay over so we can talk more.” You gave him a pointed look. “We were having a good conversation. Weren’t we?” 

“Yeah, no, yeah. Yeah, we were.” Carmen stuttered, hand on the door, twisting the lock though his eyes never left yours. 

“So… You want to come over then? Finish telling me about Copenhagen? Please?” And how could Carmen say no, his head spinning with excitement when he walked out behind you, letting the door fall shut, your arm looping around his while you walked towards the L. 

Richie ran to the front, pushing the door open with Sugar and Tina, watching the two of you walk towards the station. “Good job, Cousin.” Richie muttered. 

[daceydeath]

I Want to Watch (part 6)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader x Hongjoong (feat. Jongho) Word Count: 3.3K Genre: Pure Filth 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Content

Arguments between the members can lead to very very enjoyable outcomes provided you are up for it of course.

(for Elise @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser please don't hate me 😆)

You were happy to lay in the warmth that Wooyoung had left behind, leaving you to continue dozing as he started getting ready, showering and then going into the kitchen to make you both breakfast. You had heard both Jongho and Hongjoong moving around but you figured since it was a late schedule you would be able to spend some time with Wooyoung before he left for his work day. Stretching you could hear the voices in the kitchen getting slightly louder, Wooyoung seemed to be bickering about something but when you heard Hongjoong’s voice cut through it you knew it was serious.

“You can not be fucking serious Wooyoung. What is wrong with you?” Hongjoong scolded heatedly “This is exactly the behavior that tarnishes companies and destroys groups”.

“It’s not like that hyung, it’s not competitive and nobody is getting hurt. I even made a set of rules that everyone agrees on before things happen” you boyfriend balked, obviously offended by the accusation. “Nothing happens without everyone agreeing”.

“It’s true hyung, I agreed and Wooyoung told me what was and wasn’t ok and nothing went wrong. We are adults. We can recognize that this isn’t a "who gets her” at all”. Jongho replied calmly, trying to explain things clearly.

“Did she agree or did you just spring this on her? Because I swear if she is only doing this for you and not really consenting…” Hongjoong trailed off furious “And what happens if it gets out that one of us has a girlfriend who we all fucking share??? We are going to be seen as filthy perverts”.

“Of course she consents hyung! I love her, I would never force her into anything” Wooyoung snapped back nastily, his voice getting louder. “She has the final say if anything happens or not if she says no we will just continue like it never happened and will never speak of it again”.

Swallowing hard and feeling anxious, you quickly slipped out of Wooyoung’s bed and into the bathroom hoping you could pretend you were showering and not eavesdropping on them all arguing. With the hot water running over your body you didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only when Wooyoung knocked on the bathroom door did you realize he must have finished making breakfast.

“Hi baby” he smiled sweetly, his eyes traveling the length of your naked form “I made you breakfast”.

“Thank you Wooyo” you blew him a kiss as you washed the last of the soap bubbles from your body. You got yourself dressed and left the bathroom to find him sitting on the bed waiting for you coffee in hand. “You are too good for me, my love”.

“So we have four nights of filming for this music video. Will you be able to come round after?” he raised his eyebrow slightly as he watched you take a sip.

“Yeah, I can do that” you sighed “but only if Hongjoong isn’t still mad, I don’t want to ruin your career or the others reputations”.

“So you did hear that then” Wooyoung blanched slightly, his face falling “Like Jongho said we are all consenting adults, there are no feelings involved, besides the ones between us, so it shouldn’t matter. Plus the guys don’t think less of you if anything they respect you more”.

“Of course because we all know sleeping around earns women respect Woo” you rolled your eyes hard as he flushed pink. “But just tell me when the shoot is over and I’ll come back around”.

Four nights turned into four and a half nights so when your phone lit up just after midnight you expected to be met with an exhausted sounding boyfriend who just needed you to come round to cuddle after a long schedule not an over excited and smug sounding Wooyoung and an angry sounding Hongjoong in the background.

“Woo? What do you need?” you yawned having been asleep before his summons.

“Can you come round? Actually can we pick you up and take you to the dorm? We’re about 20 minutes away from your place”. Wooyoung’s honeyed voice told you everything you needed to know about what kind of night you were going to have. “Hyung wants to try something new with you”.

“Alright I’ll get ready and meet you out the front of the building” you breath coming out unevenly as scenarios flooded into your mind about what he could be proposing. Hongjoong had seemed so angry at the idea so something must have changed his mind for him to agree to pick you up on the way home. Stripping out of your pajamas you packed a clean pair into your bag and picked out a white set of mesh lingerie to wear underneath your track pants and t-shirt. 

You got downstairs just in time to watch the dark van pull over and the door slide open to reveal Hongjoong looking every part the captain of the demon line and your smirking boyfriend who quickly tugged you into the car and into the seat beside him kissing you desperately, his tongue swirling with yours in a battle for dominance.

“You are alright with this?” Hongjoong smiled slyly watching you with Wooyoung “You can say no at any time and it will be like it never happened”.

“Joongie I want this” You smirked, meeting his eyes and watching them darken in the low light of the car, the more interest he showed the more confidence you felt.

“Good, I won’t go easy on you” his voice seductive and low, his words sending sparks of heat bloom in your core, your arousal already making your underwear damp, Wooyoung soon reclaimed your mouth, his hands squeezing everywhere he could reach.

Entering the apartment you were passed between the boys Hongjoong easily taking control and pressing you against the wall by your throat his lips meeting yours only moments before his tongue invaded your mouth, whimpering you allowed him to do whatever he pleased with you as you vaguely heard Wooyoung grunt throatily as he watched you. Hongjoong’s knee pressed firmly against your crotch making you buck and squirm against his hard thigh for some friction.

“My room” Hongjoong ordered quietly, making you tremble in his grasp. Wooyoung grabbed your wrist just about dragging you down the hallway to the oldest room while Hongjoong followed his hands never leaving your body. 

“Have you ever had a safeword?” Hongjoong’s silky voice washed over you as you entered his room, his hands moving to massage your hips keeping you grounded in the moment.

“No, never” you breathed softly, your voice slightly uneven at idea.

“If you want me to stop, say red and if you are fine with what I’m doing, say green” He smiled pressing his lips to the shell of your ear while you nodded eagerly. Wooyoung was already palming himself through his jeans as he watched the older man turn you around and kiss you again this time winding his hand into your hair and tugging it hard enough to tilt your head back so he could continue his ministrations down your neck. Whimpering quietly you could feel the graze of his blunt fingernails against your scalp every time you moved.

“Be a good girl baby and let hyung play” Wooyoung cooed, his eyes already glazed with lust.

“Yes, be a good girl for me” Hongjoong teased, repeating your boyfriend’s instructions as his hand wandered down to find the bare skin of your waist. “Strip”. Following his instructions you shimmied out of your pants and pulled your hoodie over your head leaving you in just the lingerie you had picked out only half an hour before

“Such a beautiful little thing you are” Hongjoong murmured against the skin of your throat making you shiver “You will look so fucking good tied up”.

“Please Joonie” you whimpered, eyes wide as Wooyoung groaned softly from Hongjoong’s chair, his hooded eyes darkening by the second.

“Not yet” he smirked, hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing your nipples in slow circles making you sigh softly “first your slutty desperate boyfriend is going to eat your pussy until you can't take it anymore”. Pulling away from you he moved to haul Wooyoung to his feet roughly shoving him in your direction busying himself by going to the wardrobe to pull out a large black box and putting on the bed beside you. Several different cords emerged from it along with vibrators, a riding crop, a blindfold and cuffs Hongjoong’s fingers tracing over each one as he considered his plans for you.

“Don’t just stand there” Hongjoong chuckled darkly looking at Wooyoung’s flushed face “take care of your girl”.

You stepped towards your boyfriend capturing his lips in a soft kiss which he easily deepened his tongue pushing between your lips to move with yours. Pulling you against him he stiffly began moving, his hands trailing down your sides and eventually grasping your hips to push you back towards the bed.

“You are so fucking into watching us use your precious lover but cant deal with one of us watching you?” Hongjoong’s cruel laugh cut through the silence of the room. Wooyoung stopped kissing you, his eyes narrowing in annoyance momentarily before picking you up and sitting on the bed forcing you to straddle his legs.

“If you want a show hyung you can have one” he smiled challengingly, easily unclipping your bra and throwing it towards Hongjoong’s feet. Wooyoung ran his hands over your skin one hand gripping the curve of your arse and the other holding your waist dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth sucking and biting it gently before switching sides teasing you until you were breathily whimpering clutching his hair in your fingers. His hands encouraged you to grid on his length the rough fabric of your jeans pushing your lacy underwear to graze against your folds creating just enough friction to get you desperately whining.

“Such a needy little one” Hongjoong cooed.

“Lay back baby, let me taste how sweet you are” Wooyoung groaned, his confidence coming back from how easily you responded to him scrambling onto the sheets and slipping your underwear down your legs. Wooyoung grinned as you slowly spread your legs for him letting you take hold of your ankles and tug you down the bed to where he wanted you before over dramatically lick a long slow stripe through your drenched folds your head fell back against the mattress your breathy sounds making Wooyoung groan into your slick flesh.

“I think we should start small” Hongjoong hummed his eyes meeting yours letting you whine under Wooyoung's talented tongue Hongjoong slowly began wrapping the soft thin cord around one of your wrists making sure that it wasn't too tight or likely to slip if you pulled on it he then passed the length of it through one of the many spaces in his bed head and laid the rest of it beside you. Your brain could only half focus as your boyfriend pushed a third finger into you, the lewd squelch of your slick folds filling the room.

"How can you look so fucked out when we haven't even started yet?" Hongjoong leaned down his breath ghosting across your ear "I can't wait to see you after I've actually fucked you".

"Fuck" you whimpered your walls tightening around Wooyoung's digits as even more of your wetness leaked out of your stretched hole. Wooyoung instantly stopped lapping at your clit and stilled his fingers watching you carefully.

"She's so close, hyung want me to stop?" he asked, your essence smeared all over his lips and chin. Hongjoong nodded, gesturing for your boyfriend to stand and help him move you to the middle of the bed before he started tying the cord around your other wrist and then looping it around your other wrist so they were locked together above your head.

"Now remember green means I can continue and red means I stop, alright?" Hongjoong purred in your ear before claiming your lips, his teeth biting into your lip much harder this time making you squeak in surprise. "I want you to roll over now and show me your pretty little arse". You did as you were told able to pull your elbows under yourself to prop yourself up nerves and excitement both thundering through your body waiting for Hongjoong to act you felt the bed shift as he traced his fingers teasingly up your thigh until he met your hip before dipping between your folds to push just the tips of two of his fingers inside you making you arch your arse even further into the air as his thumb teased you sticky slit.

"Aw look at you my slutty little baby already so eager for hyung to fuck you" Wooyoung breathed heavily his pants already off leaning him in just his boxers his cock straining against the fabric.

"Want him so much Woo" you whimpered, pushing yourself back against his fingers to try to get them to slide further into you.

"Tsk don't misbehave or I'll have to punish you" Hongjoong warned the smirk on his face clear as day in his voice. You could help the tremble that ran across your skin making Hongjoong hum, slowly removing his fingers again his hand rubbed a few light circles on your left cheek before a loud smacking it down hard on your soft skin making it jiggle under his palm. You inhaled sharply your eyes wide as he repeated it, his hand stinging more the second time before he soothed it again. "Color?"

"Green" you gasped softly feeling another wave of arousal drip out of you unsure how much more turned on you could get without crying and neither of them had even fucked you yet.

"So hot" Wooyoung mumbled as Hongjoong slapped your pink stained skin again, a satisfied grumble leaving his throat as you moaned loudly.

"Such a good little thing" Hongjoong praised his hand massaging the now red skin "Wooyoung, invite Jongho in don't want him missing out on seeing what he can hear".

"Really, fuck, yeah sure" Wooyoung seemed to choke on his tongue as his eyes widened rushing out of the room to bang on Jongho's door urgently, you couldn't hear what was said or whether Jongho was even in there your ears too tuned in to the sound of a lid clicking open and cold liquid hitting your puckered arsehole.

"I'm going to fuck this juicy little pussy until you scream then I'm going to fuck your arse until you can't remember anything but my cock" Hongjoong whispered linging his tip up with your entrance and pushing in slowly. Your jaw dropped in a silent moan as he filled you every vein on his dick rubbing perfectly against your velvet walls.

"Holy shit" Jongho groaned stopping just inside the doorway of the bedroom his face flushing instantly as he watched his captain slowly fucking into you you hands tied below you.

"Move" Wooyoung grunted pushing past Jongho to return the desk chair he was watching you from "Grab a chair or get out already".

"Focus on me only on how good I'm fucking you" Hongjoong demanded his voice low as his index finger started circling the tight ring of muscle pushing and probing gently as he worked you open slowly his hips snapping hard against you as he thrust his length as far deep as you could take him.

"Yes, yes only you Joongie" you sighed the pleasure in your core slowly building as he continued to hit your g spot with each movement.

"You're really going to let hyung take her like that?" Jongho moaned, his sweats pulled down his hand already pumping his cock. Wooyoung just grunted the sound almost guttural as he pulled his cock back out of his boxers. You couldn't help the whine that left your lips the sound so needy and pathetic that once again your boyfriend groaned the sound broken in his throat by the speed of his hand.

Pushing a second finger into you Hongjoong carefully scissored his fingers to help with the stretch you were still relaxed since his cock was continuing to brush against your favorite spot that made you see fireworks but when he pushed the third finger in you tensed making him snap his hips faster forcing his tip to kiss your cervix with each movement which in turn made your head spin. Your pleasure from your core spreading and burning in your veins until your walls began tightening around him.

"Be a good girl and cum on my dick" Hongjoong ordered his voice firm, his cock continuing to pump into you deeply "Now". You almost screamed as your walls pulsed around him, your back going rigid and your legs shaking so hard you thought you were going to fall but Hongjoong kept you in place thrusting shallowly into you to prolong your high. "Such a good girl for this first part".

Pulling his fingers and his still hard cock from you Hongjoong let you collapse onto the bed breathing hard as he urged you to roll onto your side leaving you facing your boyfriend and Jongho. Hongjoong gently lifted your leg leaving your glistening and swollen pussy on full display before he filled your still quivering cunt with a vibrator which made you arch your back and cry out incoherently overstimulation making your walls pulse around the toy. Not letting you adjust he slowly pushed himself into your tight ring, the stretch from his thickness and feeling of overwhelming fullness bringing tears to your waterline.

“Color?” Hongjoong breathed hesitating before sinking himself completely inside you.

“Fuck. HongJoong. Green” you slurred feeling lightheaded as your overstimulation began to once again turn into the slow burning of pleasure.

“So fucking tight” Hongjoong cursed sinking himself in completely before pulling almost all the way out and snapping his hips back into you. Your high pitched keen filled the room as your whole body jostled with every thrust of his hips. You could hear Jongho’s heavy breathing followed by the short broken whines that your boyfriend always made as he got closer to his release. 

“Jongho get over here” Hongjoong hoarsely demanded pointing to the spot in front of you “Stick your cock in her mouth to keep her quiet”. Jongho froze, turning his gaze to Wooyoung who had tipped his head back with pleasure and didn’t even seem to register his hyung’s voice then to you. You opened your mouth letting your tongue loll out giving him all the permission he needed to kneel in front of you on the bed and begin rubbing his heavy member on your tongue slowly fucking into your throat while you gasped.

“I’m gonna… Shit” Wooyoung yelped urgently, his voice trembling as he tried to control himself. 

“Better get over here to paint your pretty girlfriend” Hongjoong rasped his hips snapped harder chasing his own need as you began almost vibrating around him your muscles taught as your own orgasm neared between Hongjoong and the vibrator in your cunt you could stop the tight coil from snapping suddenly a long muffled moan erupting from your throat around Jongho’s cock making a broken mewl fall from his lips as thick ropes of cum shot into your throat gagging you swallowed everything you could as your vision went white you eyes rolling back. Hongjoong deep depraved hiss all you could focus on as his hips stuttered and you felt his hot seed fill you and your boyfriends splatter your breasts.

“Fuck” Jongho panted swallowing hard “That was unexpected”.

“That was intense” Wooyoung sighed, his breath coming out in deep gasps “Fuck I love you baby”.

“You did so wonderful for me” Hongjoong whispered to you slowly removing the vibrator and himself from your fucked out body. You blinked at him slowly, too shattered to speak, the corners of your lips turning up. “Let me get you something to clean you up with and take care of you huh?”.

a/n: Thank you for reading lovelies I adore you all and I am so grateful for your likes, reblogs, comments and support you are amazing and I love you endlessly xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @taz-97 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @everythingboutkpop @tunafishyfishylike

@londonbridges01 @bkimrose @pancake-freckle @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

@skersey33 @jintastic-yuyu @hwxbibi @onmykneesforateez @skittyneos

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

reid gets the reader to open up about their mental health :)

Opened Wounds

Summary: Reader opens up to Spencer about her mental health after a triggering case.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of PTSD and cults

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: I know in my guidelines I said I will not romanticize mental illness and I stand by that. Which is why this is not really as much of a romance-centered fic. Spencer and Reader are in a relationship, but this is more about being comfortable in opening up in that relationship.

Thank you for submitting 🩵

The hum of the jet was the only sound as the team settled into their seats. Exhaustion was the mutual feeling throughout the cabin, and you were no exception.

The only difference between your flight to the scene and going home is that you chose a seat in the corner instead of near J.J. like normal. No one paid mind to it, it seemed. Perhaps they all knew and saw you needed space. Maybe Hotch had some sort of debrief with the team, discussing your file before bringing you on.

You thought all of that at the moment, but it isn’t until you’re halfway home and flying over Louisville, Kentucky that you accidentally lock eyes with Spencer. He collects the pile of snacks as he wins yet another game of poker against Morgan and Prentiss. You saw him cheat, and he saw you pull your lips into a (hopefully) convincing half-smile. The jet’s humming is all you can hear as he shuffles the deck, and Morgan snatches it from him to shuffle instead.

He could still cheat the next round, but you couldn’t escape the feeling that flickered across you the moment you were in his line of sight; his knowing stare. He’s been trying to get you to talk since you landed in Nebraska. It wasn’t appropriate for you to share a room, so you could avoid him at night as well. But you share a bed with him when you’re both home, and this isn’t the first time you’ve acted this way because of a case. A very specific case.

You return to the window, watching the plains and silos as they disappear in the haze of gray clouds that come and go. They would remind you of home. If your thoughts weren’t equivalent to TV static, they’d probably be the last things you’d want to look at. All you do is stare.

Then, there’s a pressure on your shoulder. You jerk at the touch, clutching your dad’s necklace on instinct. Even after turning your head to see it’s Spencer, your fist lays flat on your chest as you try steadying your breaths. “Jesus Christ!” You say, hushed.

“Sorry, sorry!” He keeps his voice quiet as well, his big eyes somehow growing. “I just… wanted to see you. So.” He gives a little wave as he smiles. “Hi.”

The team has been aware of your relationship for two months now. Still, speaking so closely, and whispering no less, feels like there’s still a secret. You hate secrets. Especially since you can see Morgan peeking over the seats to spot potential gossip. It doesn’t help that he was the first one who started asking about you two, and you spent so much time together. It was an anxious sight before, but now you can’t help questioning if it’s because of your past, the newspaper headlines with your and your little brothers’ faces among the few survivors from that burned barn.

Spencer points to the seat in front of you. “Mind if I sit?”

It’s hard to say no, even though you want to. Pushing away and avoiding hard topics is something you’ve learned to be good at. It’s why you don’t talk to your brothers anymore. It was for the best… for a long time. Yet that face of his. You still glance over at the rest of the team as you wonder how much of a crowd you’re drawing in. “Spencer, I—”

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t bother you.”

So they must know.

Spencer waits for your nod (you give it) before he scooches in for a seat. He settles in with a sigh and lets the tip of his sneaker brush against your tights. When you look up at him, pieces of hair fall in front of his face. He brushes them back as he smiles softly, yet knowing more than they do. “What’s on your mind?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing right now?”

Instead of an answer, you shrug, taking in breaths of clean air and keeping the looming anxiety away. You know Spencer, though (unfortunate at the moment), so you know that won’t cut it.

And he does too, which is why he reaches across to rest a palm on your knee. “I’m not your mother, okay? You can trust me.”

You push your mother further back in your head. “I’m just… having a bad day.”

“After another case involving a cult.”

“Yeah.”

“You know if you talk to Hotch, he’d let you sit—”

“I don’t want to sit these out,” you tell him. It’s the surest thing you’ve said all week. “It doesn’t change the number of people who need our help.”

“It doesn’t help your PTSD either, Y/N. It’s not healthy.”

Your face scrunches at the acronym, and Spencer sounds even more like your therapist. Because he’s right and you hate it. Throwing yourself into your work has led to burnout and breakdowns you hope the team never witnesses. You hope Spencer never has to see you like that. The tears blur your vision, and the man across from you becoming as indistinguishable as watered down ink. “I just hate that it still gets to me,” you say. “I thought I was stronger than this.”

Spencer’s hand squeezes your knee gently. “You are strong. But strength doesn’t mean being unable to feel. It’s okay to still feel those things like they were yesterday, especially after what you survived.”

You look away, staring out the window again as if the clouds could somehow absorb all of this for you. “It just… it all comes rushing back, and it’s impossible to escape it. No matter how hard I try, I’m right back in Nebraska. I can smell the smoke, feel the heat. I hear their voices and prayers. It’s like I’m trapped all over again.”

The confession hangs between you two. They slip out like a faucet because of one hand on your knee topped with genuine concern. Pathetic, you thought to yourself. It doesn’t help that the vulnerability leaves a lightness on your chest, like you’ve cut yourself open on an autopsy table for not just him, but for everyone to look.

No one looks around. They either don’t overhear you or pretend they don’t. There’s no in between. Spencer, however, shifts in his seat, leaning closer. “You’re not trapped, Y/N. Not anymore. You’re here, with me, with us. Hey, look at me.”

You look back up.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

You swallow hard, the tears now spilling over as you look at him. “What if I never get past this? What if I can’t do my job anymore?”

His brows slanted as he looks at you, and he leans across to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “You’re not the first person in the BAU with such a past. Hotch knew that and he still hired you. We’ll get through it together, you and me first. And if you need to take a break, or sit out a case, the team will be there for you. It doesn’t make you weak.”

You nod, though the fear still lingers. The idea of security (of any kind) is hard to settle into when you haven’t had it in so long. You pick at your nails, but with one hand, Spencer encourages you to stop. And you let out a shaky sigh. “I’ll… talk to Hotch.”

“Good.”

“Just to touch base.”

“Right. Of course.”

You lean into his touch, lacing your fingers with his as you try to form a genuine smile. “Thank you,” you said.

Spencer stands slightly, in an ungraceful crouch to kiss your cheek.

The hum of the jet continues, the world outside still distant and gray. But in this moment, sitting with Spencer in the quiet corner of the plane, you still feel exposed, but less alone. And for now, that’s enough.

Thank you all for your patience and thanks for enduring my absence. I'm not going anywhere, I've just been active in other fandoms/cannot for the life of me find inspiration. My fic uploads will probably be quite infrequent, but I'll still upload when I can. Just fyi 😉

Also if you've sent in a request, I probably still have it and have written a bit for it. It's just not done because, again, my inspiration well is ✨very dry✨ I appreciate everyone for being patient with me and still enjoying my fics all the same 🩵

[harryslittlefreakk]

can’t get you off my mind

(late night talking part 2)

Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship

Warnings: smut, 18+!!!

A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had

hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx

part one

my masterlist can be found here!

Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.

He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.

You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.

harry: making myself pretty for you :)

He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.

y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.

—

With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.

harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x

y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x

Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..

The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.

You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.

When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.

By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.

“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.

She sits beside me like a silhouette

His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.

Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet

He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.

And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it

It's like I paid for it

He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.

I'm gonna pay for this

Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.

“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”

You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.

—

Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.

Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.

—

Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.

He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.

Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.

He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.

“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.

He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.

Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”

You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”

“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.

—

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.

part three

[miss-fanfictions]

Sundays at the Library | Part Two

Part One

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Despite Spencer's best efforts to keep you his Sunday solace, you become all he can think about.

Warnings] Gruesome descriptions of typical CM gore, references to sex, Spencer's POV, insecure/anxious reader, poetry excerpts, like 3k of Spencer pining over reader (sorry not sorry), tech stuff I know nothing about

Word Count] 14.1k

Author's Note] These are links to the poetry from this part: "Your laughter", "The Insect", "And because love battles". Though I use important excerpts, I would highly recommend reading these because I reference them throughout. Sorry to make you do homework but I promise it's cute bc Spencer is falling in love through poetryyyy.

Spencer spent four days in Seattle, but he would be lying if he said that was the only reason he didn’t get to finish all ten of his library books by Sunday. 

He read one book last Sunday evening while sipping tea on his couch and then he read two of them a day from Monday to Wednesday in between his work hours. Early Thursday morning Penelope rallied the troops to the conference room to explain that they were going to Seattle because four women had been found butchered. No case was easy exactly, but this one was especially hard. The women were found in horrific states, cannibalism was suspected, and Spencer was in charge of doing the geographic profile. The problem was the unsub was very criminally sophisticated and it seemed like he had no comfort zone, so Spencer was struggling. To top it all off, one of the victims' mothers had broken down wailing in the police station, right in front of Spencer’s map, begging for someone to find her daughter's killer. . . and the rest of her remains. 

Spencer had nothing he could say to the poor mother. JJ ended up trying to comfort her, old instincts from her liaison days kicking in. He went back to his hotel room that night and cried. It’d been a while since he cried on a case, a few months or so, but it happened every so often with bad ones, mostly children. So he let himself cry on the loveseat in the corner for a few minutes before taking a shower, putting on some soft PJs, and crawling under the covers of his double bed. For a while he stared into the ceiling picturing the map, the circles he drew, and the pins he placed on it. Half the pins marked an abduction site and the other half signified where a body was found. If he concentrated too hard, he could see the bodies in the morgue: their blue lips, sheet like skin, the carved out flesh.

Most people would assume there was no downside to an eidetic memory, but Spencer knew there was. He could remember every horrendous, gruesome detail of a crime scene, a victim's injuries, an unsub’s taunts. It all haunted him, swimming around in his vision and fogging his brain when he wanted peace. Reading helped because it kept his brain busy and his head clear. When he couldn’t take the horror anymore, Spencer leaned over the side of the bed to his go-bag on the floor. 

Inside was a couple outfits, sleepwear, his usual toiletries, and a few of his library books. He wasn’t sure how much time he would have, so he brought all three of his unread ones. When Spencer unzipped the bag, he remembered he brought four borrowed books. The Poetry of Pablo Neruda sat atop the rest of his clothes and books. It must have floated to the top as Spencer rooted through the bag for his comfiest pajamas. He hesitated to bring it up onto the bed, thumbing the curling corners, but eventually took it into his lap. 

Spencer wanted to read the book as soon as he got home from the library. He actually almost blew a stop sign he was in such a rush, which Spencer never did because he was a very careful driver. Some—Derek—would call him too careful, but there wasn’t such a thing as too careful. However because he was so reckless and excited, Spencer couldn’t bring himself to read the book. It was too distracting, too enticing—he couldn’t allow himself the pleasure of it because it would consume him. Already you were nagging his thoughts, distracting him from his day, his job, and he had to curb it somehow. He certainly couldn’t feed into it by reading the book you gave him. So, he decided he would wait until Saturday to read it so you would continue to just be his solace on Sundays. 

But Spencer wanted a distraction, he needed one really, and he wanted it to be you. He opened the book and immediately smiled as he was met with your handwritten notes in pink pen ink. He couldn’t explain why the loops and lines were so you, but they were, and it only made it easier for him to hear them in your gentle whisper. 

Spencer read 20,000 words per minute, but he read close to three per minute as he combed through the poems and your little comments and analyses. He savored them as much as he could, because he could only read them for the first time once and never again would they be so fresh and sweet. Every other line his heart would flutter and his breath would pause as he searched between the stanzas and in the margins for your own reactions. 

Pablo Neruda wrote some powerful political poetry in support of the Communist Party in Chile, but it was only a sliver of the book's poems. The rest of the pages consisted of beautiful and heartbreaking romance poems. As he read them, he thought of you. Because you’d given him the book, of course, and it was your thoughts scrawled out on the page right alongside Neruda’s. In his drowsy head, the words merged, printed black and scribbled pink swirling, and suddenly the woman Neruda was talking about was you. You were the woman he longed to forget, but would forever plague him. You were the woman made for his arms, his kisses, his soul. Your body was the journey his hands itched to make.

But Spencer couldn’t think that of you. When his eyes would glaze and your image would appear on paper, he blinked quickly and rubbed his eyes raw. It was wrong to think of you like that because you were an acquaintance—a friend at best. He had no right, even if you’d given him the book. He thought then about why you’d given him the book. Sure, it was because he reached his check out limit and could always read more, but why had you given him this book? It was clearly a favorite by how worn and full of notes it was, but the notes were your deepest thoughts on love. Obviously he would consider you as he read them. 

He tried not to though, he really did, until he came across “Your Laughter.” Upon its title alone your giggle echoed in his ears and he leaned closer to the lamp light to read it unobstructed. 

“My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life.”

Perhaps he had imagined those other women Neruda wrote about as you, but this was you. Your laughter gave him life, comfort, and he was starting to think he couldn’t be without it. Every stanza solidified it in his mind that he loved your laugh, that he would take it over bread or air, because in the dim library it stole him away from the world and relieved his burdens, if just for a moment. He finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning with the page open on his chest.

—

On Friday morning Spencer woke with you on his mind, and that couldn’t happen. He had to banish you from his head, lock your memory away in a deep, dark vault just to get his work done, because every time he saw a flower, or a book, or even heard a laugh, he was thinking of a line from The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and you were that poetry. He had to stuff the book at the bottom of his go bag and swear off it until the case was finished—and he did. He redirected his entire focus back to his map, pins, and circles.

But every night when he went back to the hotel, depressed and exhausted, he sought the book out and found comfort in your words. He fell asleep to them and dreamt your thoughts, then woke up in the morning to you clouding his mind and he had to lock you away again to stay focused.

He was successfully able to rid you from his thoughts at work until Sunday when he woke up antsy at the idea you were in a different state. He tried again to concentrate solely on the case, but when his watch rolled over to 11 he got stuck staring at it, thinking about what you were doing on the other side of the country. It was already 2pm in Virginia due to the different time zones. He wondered what you were thinking. Did you stand at the desk, perched over it for the best view of the front doors? Were you also sad when the hour hand crept slowly passed 11 on the grand clock above the door and he did not walk in? Maybe you didn’t care and the day continued as normal. Or maybe you were only upset he was not promptly returning your book. He thought if only he solved the case faster he wouldn’t have to wonder.

He shook his head, shaking you away, then focused back on the map. Not more than 20 minutes later he solved it thanks to a call from Garcia about a fifth missing woman fitting the victimology. When he added a pin to her abduction site, he found the pattern, the comfort zone, and the unsub. He gathered up the map to present his findings to Hotch, to show him where he knew the secondary location had to be, and just like that the police station was bustling with a new vigor. 

They wrapped up the case late Sunday evening. They put away a monster and were able to give that grieving mother and three others closure on what happened to their daughters. That night, a woman went home to her family and Spencer returned to his hotel room, gathered his belongings, and rushed to the jet. He’d never been more ready to get back to Virginia because as exhausted and relieved as he was, he was also sad. He shouldn’t have been, but he was, because 11am came and went in a police station and not in the library ten minutes from his apartment. You’d called him so reliable and he missed it. He should have warned you about his unpredictable hours, he realized, but now he was just anxious to explain himself. He didn’t want to be the unreliable man leaving a trail of disappointment and broken promises, it was so much like his father the thought made him shiver. 

He was so quick to the jet he beat Hotch and JJ, who were always prompt to get back to their kids. She eyed him as he bounced on his heels, checking his watch. It was nearly 9:30pm which meant they would arrive in the early morning anyway. He would return to his apartment and sleep, hopefully for a while, because the library wouldn’t be open for hours. But Spencer bounced with anxiety because he was late and he hated being late. All he did was think and he was overthinking. He hoped you weren’t. 

“Spence?” He realized JJ’s eyes were on him. She had her usual concerned expression, knitted brows and tilted head. “You okay?”

He nodded because he was okay, technically. There was nothing really wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, and by now Hotch was watching their exchange. “Are you sure? You look a little. . . stressed.”

She wouldn’t give it up then. “No, I just sort of had plans today I missed. I had to return some library books and I don’t like to be late,” he explained, hoping it would soothe her worries. It wasn’t a lie. . . maybe a bit of a half truth, but his weekends were meant to be his and he wasn’t obligated to talk at length about his personal life.

JJ scoffed, checking her phone as she relaxed, calmed by his explanation. Hotch’s eyes swept back across the street, waiting for the others to arrive. “Well, you know better than to make plans. I missed date night with Will again.”

“That sucks,” Spencer hummed absentmindedly, eyes also watching down the road for the rest of the team. 

It was approximately seven minutes later when their SUV pulled up and the six of them boarded the jet. The team took their usual seats, mostly in silence as Hotch did paperwork, Morgan listened to music, and the rest of the team tried to get some sleep. Spencer took the familiar couch at the back of the jet, but he didn’t curl up to sleep just yet. Instead he opened his go bag to the book he had packed away right at the top to ensure he brought it. A smile spread across his face unbeknownst to him as he took it into his hands. He brought his legs up onto the seat and leaned with his arm on the armrest and his head tucked into his elbow as he got comfortable. Unfortunately, he was used to folding himself up on the small couch, long limbs and all, but it was a good enough position to read in. 

Spencer picked up where he left off reading slowly again, tasting the words as he mouthed them to himself alone. Every so often his silent recitation was interrupted by a quiet chuckle or a snort, because not only was your commentary deep but it was witty. Your takes on Neruda’s physical interest in love was so intriguingly sardonic he couldn’t hold back a laugh. 

Spencer found one particular poem, “The Insect,” sensual until he spotted your jokes scrawled along the bottom near the page number. 

“From your hips down to your feet I want to make a long journey. I am smaller than an insect. Over these hills I pass, hills the colour of oats, crossed with faint tracks that only I know, scorched centimetres, pale perspectives."

In your hasty, sloppy handwriting you responded:

“He better be adept at  licking between those hills if he is smaller than an insect”

Spencer cracked a wide grin, stifling his laugh in his collar. Your humor, tucked between the pages of an unassuming book, was uninhibited by your meekness. He couldn’t help but think you would never say such a crude thing aloud, or maybe you would, and he only needed to know you longer to hear it from your lips. Neruda’s next stanza was even more lewd.

“Now here is a mountain. I shall never leave this. What a giant growth of moss! And a crater, a rose of moist fire!”

He followed a loopy arrow from the section of lines to your reply.

“Crater??? I suppose my razor bumps must be the  stinging rocks that tearing out the moss uncovered”

Spencer snorted, wondering if you remembered writing those quips when you generously handed him the book. They weren’t abundant, most of your responses were scholarly thoughts or opinions on love, but he could see your mood ebb and flow throughout the poems, crossed out thoughts and new additions from when you reread and re-examine with fresh eyes and new ideas. When he got to the end of the poem, he could see how your tone had shifted.

“Sliding down to your feet I reach the eight slits of your pointed, slow, peninsular toes, and from them I fall down to the white emptiness of the sheet, seeking blindly and hungrily the form of your fiery crucible!”

Another arrow from the last word guided him to the next page where he assumed you added more thoughts after going back over the poem again.

“Neruda is only a man, so his metaphors of the body have to be expected. But his unrestrained desire and dedication is the important subtext. To make the journey  long and slow and appreciate it all with unparalleled reverence? A girl might just have time to fall in love.”

Your interpretation of the poetry spoke volumes about your outlook on love. How you searched between the lines for the words unsaid, that between the carnal romance, you found desire and dedication. That was what you valued, as well as “time to fall in love.” The sentiment gave him pause because Spencer had a habit of. . . fixation. Spencer cared fast and deeply, and maybe that was too much for you. He would have to cool off, give you space, even if he was starting to want everyday to be Sunday. 

“What’s so funny over here?”

Spencer looked up, tucking the book into his chest, startled by Derek suddenly standing right in front of him. “Nothing. Just. . . reading.”

Derek leaned down his head to see the title, eyebrows rising with a scoff. “The Poetry of Pablo Neruda?” He shook his head as he continued behind the curtain to the bathroom. “Only you would be laughing at poetry, pretty boy.”

Derek would laugh too if he took a look at your writings, but Spencer didn’t feel like sharing you. He went back to his reading and it took him about an hour to finish the book. The feeling of turning over the last page was hollow. Of course, he could remember every single word, could recite it backwards if he wanted to, he studied it so intently, but the feeling of reading it, of getting inside your head was over. He drifted to sleep with the book tucked into his arm, trying to hold onto that feeling just a little longer.

Rossi shook him awake when they landed. The sun wasn’t up yet and a glance at his watch told him it was only 5:30 in the morning. The team wasn’t expected back until Wednesday, so Spencer only dipped into the office to grab paperwork before he got into his car and drove back home to his apartment. Blasting the radio was the only thing that kept him awake while driving. He didn’t realize it when he first got on the jet, but his body and mind were exhausted. His limbs ached and his head was foggy. Once he got in the door he dropped his bag on the floor and slumped into his bed, drifting back off into deep sleep.

—

From the way the light filtered in through the blinds, the sun was arching high in the sky when Spencer finally woke up again. His eyes were practically crusted shut and his mouth was dry, all the moisture leaking out onto his face and bedspread. He rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up and stretched. The rest did him good. He had more energy, at least, and he didn’t feel like weights were attached to him. He sat there for a minute, just adjusting to the world, then his eyes drifted to his alarm clock. It was 12:43pm. 

At once he jumped up from his bed, raiding his closet for a fresh pair of clothes. He didn’t mean to sleep in, he meant to be at the library early to explain himself. All he bothered to put on was a clean button up and slacks before he slipped on his converse and grabbed his keys. He stopped himself at the door when he remembered he was going to the library to return his books, so he swung back around to pick up the basket on his coffee table and grab The Poetry of Pablo Neruda from his go bag. 

He jogged down the stairs to his car, breezing past his neighbor Mrs. Cavanaugh who greeted him kindly. Of course, he drove just as carefully as he normally did, using his turn signal, completely stopping at each stop sign, and maintaining the speed limit, all the while his fingers rapped the steering wheel. His parking job in the library lot wasn’t great, though if he was being honest it never really was, but he didn’t hang around long to admire its crookedness as he grabbed his basket and speed walked into the library. 

It was comforting to be met with the familiar chill and paper air. A hand thoughtless combed through his hair as he took his time to walk down the rug to the front desk. He realized he didn’t put a comb through his hair before he left which meant it was definitely wild. He would have spent time being embarrassed about it if he looked over the counter and saw you, but he didn’t. In your chair was an elderly woman who squinted through her own glasses as she read a thick book she clutched in her wrinkly hands. She looked up and saw Spencer standing there, an unamused look on her face. 

“Checking something in?” She asked in a smoker's voice. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” Spencer floundered, surprised you weren’t there. He took your book from the top of the basket and then brought the rest up to the counter. The woman watched him as he pulled the books from the basket, an over plucked eyebrow raised. He had to dig around in his wallet for his library card too, but eventually set it on the counter to avoid the talons at her fingertips. She let out a sigh as she began scanning them. 

Spencer tapped his fingers against the countertop, eyes roaming around the library. Was Monday your off day? He never asked. He actually didn’t know much about your personal life besides that you were in graduate school. Maybe you had classes today? He could come in again tomorrow. . . but was that weird? He wouldn’t have any books to check in, so he didn’t have any actual reason for coming in besides seeing you. Would you find that odd? That he sought you out? He didn’t want to wait until next Sunday to talk to you again.

Spencer looked back at the librarian as she cleared her throat. She finished checking in the books and slid back over his library card, but he was still just standing there. “Is there something else you need?” She asked and he whispered your name. “What?”

“I–I mean, is she working today?” Spencer clarified quickly. “The girl who is at this desk on Sundays?” 

She blinked at him, leaning back in her chair and picking back up her book, a sharp finger turning the page. “She’s working.”

He nodded, gathering up his library card and basket and briskly walking away from the desk. With no additional clues as to where you were, he went to the second floor and began walking around. You had to be around there somewhere, eventually he would find you. He scanned the shelves as he walked, looking in the sciences for books that interested him, but he was too preoccupied looking over his shoulder for you walking by. Eventually he was fed up waiting for you to walk by and roamed the library just looking for you.

It took going to the fiction section to find you. He rounded the corner of a bookcase and saw you up on a ladder, arm full of books, the other busy nestling them into their places on the shelves. Your hair was done up and you wore a long, patterned skirt, but also a fitted long sleeve shirt. It hugged you like you hugged the books, and Spencer’s eyes trailed the outline of your figure illuminated by a gold halo from the window behind you. In over a week of not seeing you, Spencer didn’t forget a single detail of how you looked, but the feeling he got when he looked at you was new and invigorating. 

He saw you in a new light, literally and figuratively. He knew some of your inner thoughts; each poem he read felt like a conversation. Maybe it was one way, but you read the book so many times perhaps it wasn’t. He hoped maybe you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave it to him, as if, in your own shy way, you were saying all those words to him.

A quiet gasp broke his train of thought and suddenly you were looking at him, turned on the ladder to see him at the end of the bookcase. “Spencer?” You looked surprised, caught off guard, and when you tried to scramble down the ladder clinging onto the books and nothing else, you tripped on your skirt and teetered on the foothold.

Spencer was next to you instantly, the basket sliding up his arm as he steadied you with a hand on your waist. You took hold of his other hand, delicate fingers wrapping tight around his palm, and slowly came down off the ladder. He let you go once you were on the floor again, unsure of what to do with his hands warmed by the feel of you.

“Thank you, I was really trying not to twist my ankle falling off that again,” You smiled nervously, embarrassed, and looked down at the books you held against yourself. 

“Again?” Spencer asked, brows quirking up, lips twisting into a smile. Not only were you shy, but you were klutzy. He wasn’t sure which made you more endearing. 

“Oh yeah. I was laid up for a week after falling off a three foot ladder. Now I don’t reach so far out,” you explained, finally chancing a look up at him and finding his eyes already on you.

“I got shot in the knee once. I was on crutches for five months, two weeks, and five days and I hated pretty much every second of it,” he blurted out, and to his delight you breathed out a quiet laugh. 

“Well you’ve got my twisted ankle beat,” You shrugged at him. He chuckled in reply, and slowly the conversation faded away. He had so much to say to you, to explain, but it disappeared from his mouth when he stood in front of you. Suddenly he felt self-conscious. He wondered if you thought about him even half as much as he thought about you. Finally, your voice came out in the softest whisper. “I didn’t know if you were going to come back. . .”

 “I was in Seattle,” like a dam burst, at last his words came rushing out. “I travel for work a lot and I’ve been in Seattle since Thursday. I only got back this morning.”

He searched your face for your reaction but your eyes were unreadable. “You just got back from a four day work trip across the country and the first thing you do is go to the library?” He couldn’t tell whether you were weirded out or not. Normally your emotions were all over your face and he read it just like a book, but suddenly you snapped it shut.

“No. Well—yes, kind of. . .” When you only continued to look at him, he felt the need to keep talking. “I had to return the books, y’know? And. . .” He searched your eyes for an indication to stop or keep going, but they were only pools of hope with borders of acetate. “You called me reliable—before, I mean—and I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t. I didn’t have any way to contact you either to let you know I wasn’t going to come in so I just. . . came here as soon as I could.”

The meekest of smiles lifted the corners of your lips and Spencer nearly let out a sigh of relief. “I guess it’s silly, but I was a little sad when you didn’t come in. I thought I really messed it up, and that sucked because it gets kind of boring in here without a genius FBI agent to be surprised by,” you shrugged, finger tapping along a hardcover book in your arms. Spencer opened his mouth to reassure you that you didn’t do anything wrong, but you continued. “I think it’d be better for both of us if we had a way to contact each other—so you can warn me of course! When work has you too busy to come in.”

Spencer stood in front of you for a few seconds, processing what you were saying. Then you inclined your brows at him and he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket. “Oh, right. You can just put your number in and I will, uh, text you.”

You struggled to adjust the books in your arms to get a free hand, so Spencer set the basket down and offered his help to take them. “Oh, thank you,” you mumbled, passing the books into his long arms and taking his phone. As you thumbed in the numbers, Spencer turned to the shelves and began putting the books in their rightful places. You furrowed your brows at him, mouth falling open. “Oh, Spencer, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to help.” He gave you a smile over his shoulder and went back to fingering over the spines to find the correct placement.

“Thank you then. Just. . .” Your head craned outside the end of the bookcases, glancing either way before walking back to the trolley that carried the books that needed reshelving. “Don’t let Mrs. Wilson see you. I think she’d actually fire me.”

“Mrs. Wilson?” Spencer questioned, brows creasing. “The woman at the desk today?”

You just gathered another armful of books from the trolley when your head snapped back to Spencer, then glanced between him and then the nearly empty basket on the floor, worried. “Oh my God, she checked your books back in. She didn’t say anything mean to you, did she? Nasty little comments are her specialty.”

Spencer took more books from the cart, his eyes glued to you as you scaled the ladder again. “No. She wasn’t exactly friendly either, but she didn’t say anything mean.” You wiped fake sweat off your brow. “Is she your boss?”

“Kinda, yeah. Technically I’m a library aid, but I do pretty much everything she does as the librarian,” you said, voice dry and tired with annoyance. “Actually I do everything she’s supposed to do besides berate people for late books, that’s her favorite pastime. Most of the day she manages the desk while I do everything else. I only work the desk Sunday because that’s her off day. I’m pretty sure she spends it at church because she’s always telling me I should be going.”

He glanced at you as you talked, continuing to organize the books. It was the most he ever heard you talk, and he was starting to hear the same voice he heard on the margins of The Poetry of Pablo Neruda. “I’m glad I came in on Sunday then,” he said. He likely never would have met you if he didn’t come in on Sunday, what with you rushing around doing all the other day to day library duties. That meant there was a 1/7, or 14% chance of him meeting you at the library the way he did. He didn’t even want to think about how slim the chance of him meeting you was after also factoring in the other libraries in the area he could have visited.

“I’m glad you did too.” You smiled over at him, shelving your last book and carefully heading back down the ladder. “She never would have let you check out all those books at once.”

He quickly placed the remaining book in his hand on the shelf, joining you at the trolley as you divided up the last of the books left. “So, if she’s so mean and awful at her job, why don’t you report her?”

You paused, eyes going distant and your shoulders slighting curling in on yourself. “I could report her to the director I guess, but. . .” You only considered it for a moment before collecting the books and spinning away down the bookcase with a shake of your head. “I don’t see the point. She’s just a grouchy old woman. It’s not like I can’t handle it. I think the reason she hates me so much is because she thinks I’m going to replace her.”

Spencer eyed your body language and shift in tone. It was the confrontation that scared you, he realized. He saw it before with Todd and now with Mrs. Wilson and the director. You didn’t stand up to her or advocate for yourself because of some self conscious doubt or fear of rejection. Sure, Mrs. Wilson might be mean and a bit scary, but that shouldn’t mean you have to deal with her blatant disrespect. He wanted to give you some encouragement, but seeing your reaction to his question—the way you curled in on yourself to protect yourself from the discomfort just considering reporting her gave you—made him not want to push you, so he finished putting the books in the bookcase. 

“If you say so. I'm just sorry you don’t get along with your coworker. I feel like my team at the BAU is my family and I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” he confessed. His only real family was his mom, but he felt it wasn’t appropriate to talk about her just yet. Although he did feel like the team was also his family, so it felt right to talk about them.

You hummed, a dreamy look on your face. “That’s nice. It makes sense too, since you all have to trust each other with your lives, don’t you?” You brought your bottom lip between your teeth suddenly, hesitating to look at Spencer. “I um, I looked up what the BAU was the other day because I wanted to know what you did exactly. It just said you created “profiles” of serial killers, but it didn’t mention field work.” You slotted onto a shelf the last book in your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as they became idle, eyes wandering back and forth between him and the floor.  “I was just thinking if. . . are you in danger often? You didn’t seem very scared of that guy the other day—obviously he’s not nearly as scary as a serial killer, but you also said you got shot in the knee?”

Spencer held back a smile because you seemed upset, but the fact that you took the time to look up what he did and worried about him made his stomach swirl in a way which was more pleasing than nauseating. “Field work is a part of my job, yes. We profile serial killers and other criminals, but we also help the local police catch them. I’ve had other injuries besides getting shot in the knee, too. So, yes, often it can be a very dangerous job.” It also felt wrong to bring up Tobias Hinkel, the trauma Spencer experienced, and the path it led him down. Maybe at a later time he could bring it up, but now he was more comfortable recounting exactly the amount of times he’d been shot at and every injury he’d gotten on the job from being punched to poisoned. Spencer did none of that though, because your face became sickly and your brows knitted so tight with concern he thought they might merge together. “I’m always okay though! I trust my team and we all keep each other safe. I wear a bulletproof vest to protect my vital organs and I carry a gun, so I’m kind of hard to kill.”

You crossed your arms, nodding as you calmed down from the worry. Spencer wondered if you were also an anxious person, it would make sense since you were so concerned about him and his job. It was a dangerous job, sometimes in the moment Spencer dismissed the probabilities that he could actually die, but it was always possible despite his experience, knowledge, and skills. Unlikely, but possible. “It’s a really good thing your coworkers have your back then,” you joked, but it was weak and Spencer could tell you were still unsettled.

He wanted to calm you down, because there wasn’t anything to be worried about. He was good at his job, safe, and he always ran all the probabilities and took the best course of action. Most importantly, he always had a thorough and accurate profile, which Gideon always said was the deadliest weapon he could have. You didn’t need to worry about him despite the danger. “‘What more can they tell you? I am neither good nor bad but a man, and they will then associate the danger of my life, which you know and which with your passion you shared,’” he recited. Your head tilted as you took in his words, an excitement of realization slowly filling up your face. “‘And good, this danger is danger of love, of complete love for all life, for all lives.’”

“‘And because love battles’, Pablo Neruda,” you named it. Spencer was right when he assumed you read it several times because you had it memorized enough to spot it. “That poem is about fighting for and defending his love despite his past and what others have to say about it—not the danger of having standoffs with murderers.”

“Yes, but I can repurpose it. I do this job despite the danger because I love people. I love helping them, saving them. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. If I don’t catch the murderers, who will?” He explained, trying to show you that this job was just a part of him, however dangerous it was, he could handle it. “I know it can be scary, but trust me when I tell you that I’m good at what I do. There aren't any people out there better at this job than my team. You don’t have to worry.”

You plucked at the ends of your sleeves, thinking on what he told you. The seconds ticked by and he resorted to examining your body language, how your shoulders were even and between them your chest rose and fell at a steady pace. Your face was placid too, until it warped with a playful smile and you stepped closer to him. The breath left his lungs in an exhale. “So. . . you did finish The Poetry of Pablo Neruda?” He took air in again with a chuckle. Teasing him must have meant you felt reassured. “You must have been distracted being so good at your job that your interpretation was off, because that’s not at all what that quote means.”

Spencer took a step towards you, his long legs almost closing the gap of space between your bodies before you scrambled back a step. “Oh, I know what you think of that poem. I know exactly what you think of all Neruda’s poems, since you spelled it out for me.”

Your hands came back to the front of you, fidgeting with your fingers as you avoided the intensity of his eyes, face warming with embarrassment. “You read all my notes?” How could he not? Surely, you must have known he would. 

“Of course I did. I thought it was all very insightful,” he said, and because he couldn’t help himself, he continued. “Especially all your little jokes. What did you have to say about ‘The Insect’? ‘He better be adept at licking—’”

“Spencer!” You squealed, certainly disturbing anyone who was in the surrounding rows of bookcases. Your hands rushed to cover your face. “I didn’t—You weren’t—oh my God!”

Spencer laughed at your suffering, taking sadistic pleasure in it only for a few moments before he gently pulled your hands from your face by your arms. “It’s okay. I thought they were all very funny. You’re very funny.”

It was harder for you to shake off the embarrassment. You carefully removed your wrists from his hands to wring them. “I didn’t think you were even actually going to read it.”

Spencer’s brows twitched into a furrow, puzzled as to why you thought he wouldn’t read the book you gave him. “Why not? I like poetry.”

You shrugged. “I–I don’t know, I just definitely didn’t expect for you to memorize it and everything I said.”

“I have an eidetic memory,” he countered, knowing he would remember everything you ever wrote and said to him. “And some of that stuff is pretty hard to forget anyway.”

You whined, mortified. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize what that means.”

There was a pause between you and Spencer, because you were embarrassed and he wasn’t sure why. Having someone read your private thoughts is vulnerable and flustering, but you gave him the book. You must have known he would agonize over your every word, but your reaction said you didn’t. Spencer couldn’t help but feel he was reading too far into things, his obsessive, addictive personality sending him spiraling down a hole of a relationship he dug all on his own. You didn’t think about him as much as he did you; you didn’t read into the things he did and search for more meaning. 

“Do you need more books?”

“Huh?”

He was staring into your face thinking hard, but you snapped him back out of it. “You finished reading all your books right?” You repeated.

“No, I only read seven of them,” he thought aloud.

“What? What happened to Mr. 20,000 words per minute?” The shyness fled you slowly as you turned again to teasing him. It was cute, but it also flustered Spencer, because he definitely couldn’t tell you he didn’t finish his other books because he spent all his time scrutinizing every word both you and Pablo Neruda wrote. 

“I–I told you I was in Seattle for four days. I didn’t have time to finish them because I was busy.” It was a lame excuse because he definitely did have enough time, he just spent it reading the book you gave him because it comforted him better than any other book could.

You hummed, tapping your fingers along your forearm. “Okay, well, you should look for some more books. I have to get back to work or the library’s going to collapse without me. So, um, text me?”

He got whiplash from your sudden goodbye. “Y–Yeah, of course. I’ll see you next week right?”

“Of course,” you repeated, throwing him a wave as you grabbed the handle of the trolley and started pushing it out of the aisle. 

“Wait, don’t forget this.” Spencer stopped you as he picked his basket back up from the floor, plucking The Poetry of Pablo Neruda out of it to hand to you. 

You took it with a grateful smile, setting it on the trolley. “Thank you, Spencer, I’ll have to give you more poetry book recommendations since clearly you liked this one so much.”

He watched you disappear around the corner and was immediately hit with everything he wanted to say to you, what he should have said, all the conversations he wanted to have had. It wasn’t enough. You’d taken a decent chunk of time out of your busy day to chat with him but it still didn’t satisfy him. Spencer wondered if there would ever be enough of you, or if he was now forever craving you, needing your words, your laugh, you entirely.

He resigned himself to looking around the library for new books to read. Every time he entered a new aisle, he looked for you, having hope you’d be there but you never were. Still, he took his time finding books, but once he had seven in his basket he made his way down to the front desk.

Of course, Mrs. Wilson was sitting there and she was just as pleased as she was before to see Spencer standing in front of her. She stood up as he began unloading the books onto the countertop. 

“Seven books?” She croaked.

“Yes? I only have three out and the check out limit is ten,” he justified, pausing as he rummaged his wallet for his library card.

“I know the checkout limit. You can’t check out more than five books at once,” she hissed, clawing two books off the top of the stack and dropping them onto the cart behind her. Without missing a beat, she turned back and snatched up his library card from the counter and began scanning.

“Okay. . .” he mumbled, unsure how to respond. Obviously that wasn’t library policy, but he wasn’t interested in fighting with your coworker. All he needed was for her to dislike him. Well, dislike him more than the disdain she seemed to have for everyone. 

When she finished scanning and checking the books out, she slapped his library card on top of the stack and sat back in her seat, picking up her book again without a word. Spencer took that as his sign to get lost and quickly gathered up his books in his basket and made for the exit. He looked back once more as he opened the double doors and turned back around as they shut behind him.

Spencer wiped down the books and his basket in his car, setting them both up snug in his passenger seat. He sat there for a moment, looking back at the library, then pulled out his phone. Like you said, your name had been added to his contacts, your full name. He bounced his leg as he considered sending you a message, but finally gave in and typed a simple one out.

- Hey, it's Spencer Reid.

Again, his leg bounced viciously as his fingers hovered over the buttons, sporadically typing out letters before deleting them. He even set it down before he picked it back up and hurriedly sent another message.

- Mrs. Wilson only let me check out five books.

He tossed his phone over into his passenger seat with a sigh. Spencer Reid did not text. It was strange, embarrassing, and not at all something he was used to. He felt the urge to call Garcia and even ask if he was doing it right. Was there even a right way to text? There had to be and he had no clue what it was. Constantly Garcia was bringing up internet language Spencer did not understand. What if you knew it and he didn’t? He almost went back into the library to research it on the computer. 

But he had to go home. He hadn’t eaten yet and his stomach was starting to rumble and growl. There was a chinese place on the way home, he could stop by there and get takeout. It wasn’t the healthiest plan, but there wasn’t much at the apartment besides pasta. That meant he also had to go grocery shopping tomorrow. He sighed through his nose as he put the car in drive, only to immediately throw it back in park when he heard his phone chime. He lunged over the console to the passenger seat so quickly the seat belt locked up and he choked himself momentarily before he could unfasten it and snap up his phone from the seat. There was a text from you.

- When do you go back to work?

His brows creased, but he responded swiftly nonetheless.

- Wednesday. Why?

- That means you have to come in tomorrow at 11, that's her lunch break. I can check you out.:)

He was even more confused by the punctuation at the end of your sentence. He reread it thrice for any clues to the meaning before he tilted his head and saw a smiley face staring back at him. A laugh burst from him, shaking his chest. He could put off grocery shopping until later in the day tomorrow.

—

Spencer came into the library Tuesday at 11am promptly. You escorted him around the library as he found two more books, then you let him pick an additional two more to check out on your own library account. After picking out the books, sneaking to check him out at the front desk became the best covert op mission Spencer had ever done, and he actually had done quite a few. As you talked, Spencer recounted cases he worked on and taught you the lingo they used in the field. When you slunk behind the front desk, you actually whisper-screamed “Clear!” at him with a face so serious Spencer had to slap a hand over his mouth so he didn’t blow the whole operation by laughing in your face. Your head bobbed constantly for any sight of Mrs. Wilson, even though you told him she ate lunch at the diner down the street. Then you slid him the two extra books like the scandal was DEA investigation worthy. All the while, you and Spencer giggled like children. 

You were a lot less worried now when he told you about the cases he worked on, he tended to leave out the really scary parts, but the idea of him chasing after armed murders didn’t terrify you as much anymore. You seemed to trust him and his skills more, likely because of his excellent performance during “Operation Paperback,” which was the code name you lovingly bestowed upon your mission to check Spencer out more books while Mrs. Wilson took what was most definitely not a smoke break. (You told him you were going to launch your own investigation into the cigarette butts you kept finding in the parking lot when he left now that you were a pro at “FBI stuff.”)

Spencer left the library with a giant grin on his face and it stuck with him even as he picked out his next week's worth of meals at the grocery store. He also planned when he would see you again and thought about all the things he wanted to talk to you about. Of course, he wanted to tell you about all the great things he did: his successes as an FBI agent, how he earned his PhDs, the time he hit the ball and ran the winning homerun for Derek’s baseball team. But he also wanted to tell you the darker parts of his life: his mother’s illness, how the job had traumatized him, his struggle with addiction. And he wanted to know so much more about you in kind.

Swiftly, it was no longer just Sundays he was visiting the library. He was dropping in after work and on the odd days he had off due to prolonged cases in other states. It took him less than a week to memorize your schedule. You had off on Fridays and Saturdays, and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you had classes. Of course, your classes were late after work on Monday and Wednesday, however they were early in the morning on Friday. The library hours were something he also saved in his mental rolodex. It had open hours all seven days of the week: 10am to 4pm on weekends and 11am to 7pm on weekdays. Spencer was leaving work on time for the first time in years to make it to the library before close. 

Over the next couple weeks as he went to the library, he realized you spent a lot of time troubleshooting the computers. So when he came in he would either find a book to read or set himself up at an open computer near the one you were working on. He told you he was “researching” things for cases, but he didn’t really have to because anything he wanted to know he could have asked Garcia with her masterful skills and FBI grade software. He came to chat with you, listen to you complain about having to fix the computers so often because the local teens kept breaking them. Still, you were too timid to reprimand them or threaten to kick them out. In his job everyday there was always confrontation, everyone had to do it, so it was both confusing and sweet to him that you lacked the nerve to address people. He only wished you would stand up for yourself, because when you avoided confronting the problems it only ever gave you more labor. 

You became much more comfortable with him though. You shared more thoughts openly, met his eyes more, and even shared things about yourself that seemed very personal. You told him about your parents, your friends, your quaint apartment, and some embarrassing stories of your childhood. As close as you both were becoming over the weeks, you refused to let him read any of the poems you wrote because “it's different when you read it than when strangers read it.” He couldn’t dream of it being bad. He wouldn’t even give criticism or comment on it, but still you wouldn’t let him. You did, however, let him read your interpretations and analyses of poetry and literature you were reading for your classes. He would finish scanning the texts in minutes, which you would whine and complain about taking hours doing as a slow reader, and then read your writings and give you his critiques. At first you were nervous and fidgety about it, would go quiet when he didn’t necessarily agree. Then, slowly, you became more argumentative, fighting him on whose perspective was correct. Spencer loved arguing with you, the way your face lit up when you thought you had him, and the pout of your lip when you conceded the genius maybe knew what he was talking about. 

He handled five cases over the weeks he got to know you, during which he never used his phone more. He would be away for days at time and not be able to visit the library, so he resorted to texting you during the day and calling you from his hotel room in the evenings after you got home from classes, or just before you tucked yourself in for bed. Sometimes he talked about the cases, only giving you bits of information and keeping out the truly horrific things. Other times, he talked about his life. It was hard at first, telling you about the darkest parts of him, how he was far more complex than he originally led you to believe, then it became easy. You took it in stride, showing him an empathy he never knew he craved so deeply. You comforted him over the phone, or in the library, and assured him you didn’t see him any differently than before. Told him you were still his friend.

His friend. Of all the things you said to him while he was vulnerable, that one was the only one that wounded him. You were a great friend, truly, but Spencer was closer to the realization everyday he didn’t want to just be your friend. On the nights he wasn’t away on a case, when he entered his empty apartment and prepared himself dinner alone, he missed your voice. He wanted you there always, more than someone should want a friend. He never thought about Derek, or Penelope, or JJ the way he thought about you. His team was his family and he loved them, but the way he felt about you was another thing entirely. You consumed him at times. When he should be thinking about a case or chatting with one of the team, something reminds him of you and suddenly he’s stuck in a loop of thinking about what you were doing, thinking, feeling. He was distracted, and the worse part of it all was that his team was starting to notice.

Spencer tried to be discreet, but sometimes as he sent a text under his desk or hidden alone in a room Derek would catch him and he’d have to come up with a fast excuse. It always sounded defensive and not quite convincing because Spencer was not a very good liar. The rest of the team was catching him lost in thought, which wouldn’t be as damning if it didn’t happen so often. He cared for you so much he couldn’t help but think of you all day. He likely would never stop talking about either if he wasn’t hiding your existence from his team. At first it was because he tried to keep you very separate from his work life, like his job at the FBI didn’t have to exist when he was with you and therefore you did not exist when he was at work. But now you’d infiltrated his life completely and there was no possible way to keep you separate. He hid you now because well. . . he was embarrassed. Clearly he was obsessed with you, he couldn’t deny it anymore, but you didn’t feel the same way. 

You were caring, kind, generous, empathetic, yes, but in love with him? Well you gave no indication you were. Often you would call him your friend, mention you were scared of relationships, and when he tried showing you he was interested in being more than your friend—getting closer to you, complimenting you, flirting with you—you got quiet and shied away, so he backed off. He wanted to be with you so desperately he put to use all the tips Derek had given him—the PG-13 ones at least—but none of it worked. Perhaps he wasn’t doing it right, or you just didn’t like him. He was trying hard to just settle with being just your friend.

“Oh my God, I hate this thing!” You hissed, slapping your hands over your face and groaning quietly into them. 

“I’m guessing you tried turning it off and on again?” Spencer grinned. He pulled out the seat to the computer next to you, hanging the strap of his messenger bag on the chair behind him. Your eyes glared at him between your fingers.

“Don’t make me hate you too, Spencer. That never works.” Well then the problem went beyond his ability to fix. “I just don’t understand how they can get so many viruses on a computer? Everyday I’m blocking new websites.”

Computer six, which conveniently was the computer with the least visibility from the front desk, was almost always in need of fixing. Mainly because of a group of teens who would come in on the weekends or after school to play around on it. Constantly you were blocking the unsecure, often dangerous or pornographic websites they frequented. How they found them all, you could not fathom. You were fairly good at fixing the computer with all the time you’d spent doing it and all the tutorials you had to research, but were truly stuck. It was almost a week of the computer being down and you had no luck repairing it. 

“You tried everything?” He asked, his smile dropping into a frown at your distress.

“Yes. I don’t know what to do anymore. Mrs. Wilson is on my ass about fixing it and she’ll never call the director to send someone to fix it because that costs money. And I’d have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a new computer and I don’t even play.” You drug your hands down your face, shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“I could get it fixed.” 

You let out an unstifled laugh, which he would be happy to hear if you weren’t laughing at him. “Spencer, you suggested turning it off and on.”

“No, I mean I could ask someone to fix it. A member of my team, Penelope, is a technical analyst. She’s very good with computers and she could fix it.” He didn’t want to ask Garcia, actually the last thing he wanted to do was get his team involved, but he hated even more to see you so upset and stressed. He was just your friend and that was all Garcia would see. 

Your mouth fell open and you waved your hand dismissively. “Oh no, I couldn’t bother her with this. She's probably so busy. I–I can handle it.”

Spencer smiled. You were so sweet, always determined on dealing with things so you didn’t have to put the weight onto others. It only made him want to help more. “She’d be doing me a favor. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”

“Are you sure?” Beyond the apprehension, he saw how hopeful you were. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll let you know when she can come fix it,” he said, watching the smile spread across your face. You were so elated, you reached over the space between the chairs to give him a hug, letting out a deep sigh of relief. 

“Thank you so much, Spencer,” you mumbled into his shoulder. He awkwardly patted your back, unsure exactly what to do with his gangly arms. He wasn’t too much of a hugger, neither were you, so it was the first time you’d ever hugged him. His cheeks warmed at the thought.

Unfortunately, he had to follow through on his promises. So the next day when he went into work he hung around the door to Garcia’s lair, repeating over and over in his head how he was going to ask. He opened the door with a knock and she swirled around in her chair to look at him, a megawatt smile beaming.

“Hey handsome, what can I do ya for?” She greeted, spinning a fuzzy orange pen between her fingers. 

Spencer wrung his hands in the doorway, halfway between coming in and running away. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Of course! What did you need me to look up?” She spun back in her chair, hands at the ready.

“It’s not that, it's a personal favor. A–A tech problem. Do you think you could help me with it this Sunday?” 

Slowly, Garcia tapped her heels on the floor to turn her spinny chair back towards Spencer, eyebrow quirked. “Okay, technophobe. What’s this tech problem because I didn’t think you owned a computer?”

“It’s a computer at the library I go to. It’s been out of order for a week now and they can’t seem to get it fixed,” he explained, continuing to fidget. 

She pursed her lips and tilted her head, gesturing at him with her fuzzy pen. “Is there not more than one computer at the library? Or are libraries really that popular still? I think you should just get a computer, Reid. I promise it’s not that scary and I’ll pick you a good one! The kind even old people know how to use—no offense. We can go—”

“Garcia,” he interrupted her rambling with a wince. Clearly he wasn’t going to get away with asking for her help so vaguely. “The library can’t afford to pay someone to fix it so I told the librarian I’d ask if you could. If you’re too busy, it’s alright.”

She seemed skeptical, mouth bobbing open and closed like she had more to say, but finally closed it with a simple nod. “I can fix it, of course I can fix it. JJ canceled our brunch plans Sunday so I can be there at 11:30.”

Spencer gave her a tight lipped smile and a nod. “Okay, I’ll send you the address. Thank you, Garcia.” He wanted to add that she probably shouldn’t mention it to the rest of the team, but knowing Garcia’s lack of subtlety and habit of being just a tad nosey, he figured that would only make it more suspicious and odd.

So he gave her a farewell and speed walked back to his desk, taking his seat with a heavy sigh of relief. Garcia may not be a profiler, but she knew him well and she had a bloodhound like nose for gossip. If he wasn’t careful, she would sniff out just how much he liked the librarian he mentioned so briefly. Then it would spread like wildfire around the office and Spencer would be safe from no one’s prying and teasing. 

It was the first Sunday he was nervous to go to the library. His palms were sweaty as he waited at the computer with you, you none the wiser. He tried to focus on you to calm down because you were always his source of comfort. His eyes trailed over your long skirt and t-shirt combo, making note of the way you kept touching your arms as if you were cold. No doubt you’d slip on the cardigan you kept behind the desk soon, but he assumed you wanted to look nice to meet Penelope, because you did look very nice. Your hair was out of its updo and if he looked hard enough at your face, which he did, he could tell you were wearing lipgloss and some other little bits of makeup. 

“You okay?” You asked him softly, eyes looking over his own face.

“I’m fine,” he blurted maybe a little too quickly because you looked unconvinced. Slowly you were learning his tells and he wasn’t sure how long it would be before you found out how fixated he was on you and you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. “I just. . . I hope Penelope can fix it for you.”

You smiled sweetly, looking away at the entrance. “I bet she can, but even if she can’t, it's okay. It was nice of you and her to try.”

He wanted to reassure you that he would always try for you, but Penelope came through the double doors, absolutely glowing like the sun. In mood, but also in outfit. Or maybe it was more like a sunflower? All Spencer knew was that it was very yellow and vibrant. She came rushing over when she saw him and you stand up to greet her.

“Hi, you must be Penelope. Spencer told me so much about you,” You greeted and immediately Spencer realized he messed up.

Garcia’s eyes ran over you, then went back and forth between you and Spencer. He could see the gears turning in her head. “Oh, hello!” She chirped, friendly as always but awkward because she heard nothing about you.

Quickly, Spencer introduced you to Penelope and both you and her shook hands before she put him out of his misery and asked what the problem with the computer was. She took a seat at computer six and you stood next to her, pointing out things on the screen.

“I have some kids that keep coming in and going on all these sketchy websites. I keep blocking them, but they keep finding new ones and it’s loading the computer up with viruses. Then it runs slow and freezes so often it’s unusable,” You shook your head as you explained, exasperated by it all. “Sorry, I know it’s a lot, but do you think you could fix it?”

“Oh, please. Those are some easy fixes! I’ll just remove the viruses and add some more blocking software not even tech savvy kids can get around.” Garcia was already typing at the computer, doing things on the screen Spencer didn’t bother to try and comprehend. He was looking at you as the grin yanked up your lips.

“Really? Thank you so much. I’ve been fighting with this damn thing for weeks. I’m not great with computers.”

“I think you’ve done pretty good so far. You’re much better than Reid, that’s for sure. Sorry fellow genius, but it's true,” she glanced back at him, almost remorseful but still carrying a smile.

You laughed, always eager to tease him. “When he’s on a computer I think he lied to me about having an IQ of 187. He needs my help finding research databases, pulling up old articles, everything but logging in, really.”

“Huh,” Garcia glanced back at him again, only to find his eyes averted and his hands stuffed into his pockets to stop their incessant fidgeting. He was caught and he knew it. He maybe. . . exaggerated how bad he was with computers to you at first, just to get you to come over and talk to him when he first started coming to the library after work, but unfortunately he didn’t know how to end the ruse. Garcia called him a certified technophobe, but even she knew he had those basic skills, especially since she’d seen him do it on his own before. 

“How long do you think it will take?” You asked, glancing over the rest of the computers to the desk. “I just have to get back to managing the front desk.”

“Only about a half hour. I’m going to do the other computers as well to save you some time blocking websites. You can go though, I got this.” She gave you a smile, gesturing for you to leave.

“Thank you again, Penelope. I’ll be back before you’re done,” you promised, fluttering away from the table swiftly to help someone standing at the front desk.

“So…” Garcia was looking up at Spencer impishly.

“So?” He asked, though he had a good idea of what was coming.

“Do you like her?” Her eyes were hopeful, lips spread into a grin. 

“Garcia. . .” he warned, pleading for her not to go any further. He didn’t want to have to lie, but he couldn’t tell her that he was hopelessly falling in love with you.

But that only sold it for her, her hands reaching off the keys to fan her face. “OMG. You do like her!”

He glanced around to see if you heard her exclamation, but you were busy talking to the man standing at the front desk. “Penelope, she’s my friend,” he tried to be firm in his assertion, but even to his own ears it sounded more like a whine.

“A very cute friend! Who seems like the sweetest person on earth. Oh, and she works in a library. So adorable—y'know—because you’re always reading? Are you sure she’s just a friend?” She launched into a ramble, too clouded by the idea that he may be interested in someone to recognize the hurt on his face.

“I’m sure. She’s… she doesn’t like me like that,” he sounded sad, he didn’t mean to, but he was. He had a very hard time hiding his feelings, and now Penelope heard it and was looking at him like he was a kicked puppy.

“Oh, well, I—really? She seemed so. . .” She was at a loss for words, watching as you walked past guiding the man from the desk over to the staircase, likely showing him where to find a specific genre. Penelope shook her head as you disappeared from view, redirecting her focus back to the screen and letting her hands fly back to the keyboard. “I should mind my business. Right. Bad Garcia.”

Spencer frowned, eyes lingering on where you vanished up the stairs. He pulled back out the chair beside her and slumped in it, avoiding her eyes. “Thank you, Garcia.”

He didn’t have to thank her for long though. 

She fixed the computer and you were so incredibly grateful you hugged her. Or rather, you hugged her back after Garcia enveloped you into her arms, so overwhelmed with your praise, but you seemed glad to let it happen. Even after she left, and a few days later the teens returned, they were upset to find the new restrictions on the computer they couldn’t bypass, much to your delight. Spencer was thankful for that, but he was much less grateful when only a week and a half later Garcia slipped up and mentioned you to the team.

He was wrapping up his paperwork fast, reading through documents at lightning speed and filling them out so quickly his handwriting was nearly illegible. But he promised he’d come to the library to see you after work because he was away on a case the past couple days including last Sunday. He was so invested in completing his paperwork he didn’t even notice Derek and Penelope passing him with cups of coffee. 

“Whoa kid, got a date you're running late for?” Derek joked, perching at Spencer’s desk to grin down at him with a teasing smile.

“Oooo, I bet it's that cute—” As the words came tumbling from Garcia’s pink lips, Spencer’s face ripped away from his paperwork to look at her, and with a look of horror she quickly cut herself off to sip from her mug.

Derek’s brows creased, looking between Spencer and Garcia with an amused bewilderment. “That cute what?” When Garcia avoided his eyes, drowning in her coffee, and Spencer’s cheeks turned pink, realization covered Derek’s face. “Oh, okay pretty boy, I see you! That must be why you’ve been on your phone so much. What cute girl have you been talking to?”

Spencer cleared his throat, turning back to his papers as he consolidated them from the cluttered mess into a neat pile. “No one.”

Derek laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “No, no, no. Don’t get all shy now, playa, spill.”

When Spencer refused to respond, continuing to shuffle about his papers, Derek narrowed his gaze onto Garcia, who could drink from her cup no longer and began coughing. It gathered the attention of a few other pairs of eyes in the office just in time for her to finish her choking and begin spilling.

“Okay! She’s this absolutely adorable librarian! She’s the sweetest thing and her style is so cute and I wanted to ask her where she got her glasses from, but I was too distracted because Reid totally likes her and thinks that she doesn’t like him, but I was trying to get all profiler on her because I thought ‘there’s no way she couldn’t like boy genius because he’s just as cute and they are so made for each other’ and—like you guys know, I’m no profiler—but I’m pretty sure she likes him!” Finally she took in a breath, practically hyperventilating and fanning her face.

Spencer gawked at her, wide eyed. “Penelope!”

She looked at him sympathetically, but it was Derek’s face that he focused on. His brows were high on his forehead, mouth gaping as he took all of her words in. “Okay, first of all: wow. Second of all: why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

Spencer chewed on his lip. He didn’t really want to explain himself to Derek and Penelope, two people known for their confidence and dating escapades, but he was cornered. Not only that, but he was becoming so desperate he found himself wanting their advice. “I–I don’t know. Whenever I try to show her I’m. . . interested, she gets quiet and awkward.”

“How have you been showing her you’re ‘interested?’” 

He shrugged, leg bouncing under the table. “Flirting with her I guess?”

Derek scoffed. “You guess?” When Spencer could do nothing but look away with a heavy sigh, Derek continued. “Look man, she could just be shy. I know it’s scary, but you have to just ask her out on a date. That's the only way you’re really going to know if she likes you.”

Spencer picked at a loose thread on his cardigan, voice quiet. “But what if she says no? I just. . .” He licked his lips, playing over the words in his head and wondering if he wanted to be so vulnerable to Derek and Penelope. “I like her so much. . .” he whispered.

Garcia cooed, tottering around the desk in her heels to wrap her free arm around Spencer. “Who could ever say no to you, handsome? I’m positive, she’ll say yes, I know that girl likes you!”

“Hey,” Derek said, getting Spencer to look up at him as Garcia released him. “You got nothing to worry about, pretty boy. Now you go to that library and ask her out to a nice fancy restaurant—which no pretty girl can refuse—and I’ll worry about this paperwork.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked meekly, but Derek and Penelope only reassured him and ushered him out of his seat. He was out of the office less than ten minutes later, getting into his car. He flipped down the sun visor to look at himself in the tiny mirror, frowning at his reflection. His hair was always a mess and he needed to shave. 

He flipped the visor back up with a sigh, putting his car in drive and taking himself to the library before he sat in the parking lot all night stressing. He didn’t have to ask you out, but he did have to go because he promised you he’d be there. . . and he missed you dearly.

The library was empty when entered. There were sometimes a few stranglers this late, but on a random Tuesday night the library was clear of everyone but you, bent over wiping down the tables for the night. His eyes roamed over you, breath catching in his chest like it always did when he first laid his gaze on you again.

“Good evening,” he greeted, trying not to startle you with his presence. 

You turned quickly, a smile taking over your bored face when you spotted him standing by the front desk. “Spencer! How was your flight this morning?”

“Fine. I finished the book on biological regulations and development, but I mostly just slept because we had a whole day of paperwork to catch up on.”

“And work today?” You asked, throwing a wet wipe in the trash and plucking out another as you moved to clean the next table.

“Like I said, paperwork. Very boring.” He untucked his hands from his pockets, setting his messenger bag down at the front desk and grabbing a wet wipe from the container to help you wipe down tables. He often helped you with your closing work when he arrived so late, especially on nights you had classes after work. “How about you?”

You shrugged, gesturing around the room with your hands. “It’s the library. Same thing everyday here.”

“That’s not true. What about the clown?” 

A laugh burst from you as you remembered the story you told him the other day on the phone, you curled up in bed and him sitting on a couch in a hotel room five states away. You stayed up late until he got back from the police station just to tell him about the man who came in dressed in a full clown get-up to print out coloring book pages for a birthday party he was running late to. It made your whole week and you just had to tell him, howling particularly hard about how Mrs. Wilson, after thoroughly wiping down the printer, printed out a notice to put on the front door instating a library dress code of no costumes. 

“The clown was probably the most interesting thing to ever happen in this library. That says something about how boring it is.”

“Is the FBI showing up everyday not interesting?” He mocked confused.

You gave him a playful glare over your shoulder. “Okay. I guess you can be the second most interesting thing to ever happen in this library. Right below the clown.”

Spencer chuckled. “I should be offended by that, shouldn’t I?”

“Feel how you want to feel, Spencer. But Bo-Bo is the only one who’s given me coloring book sheets.” You shrugged, playing nonchalance. 

“Oh, because I print those out so often at my job? If I did, there wouldn’t be enough crayons at the dollar store for you to color them all.” Maybe he was in a fake competition with a clown for your favor. Either way, when you ducked your head with a breathy giggle, he knew he won it. 

When you both finished wiping down the tables, he took out the trash while you set about turning off the lights, shutting down the computers, and other small tasks. He met you at the front desk as you collected your bag and jacket, pulling his messenger bag back over his own head. He held the door open for you as you both left the library and stood by your side as you locked the doors. 

“Thank you for helping me close,” you smiled at him as you tucked the keys into your bag.

“Of course.” He wanted to say it should have been Mrs. Wilson helping you, because the old bat usually took off an hour or so before close, but you brushed him off every time he suggested reporting her and he didn’t want to sour your mood. He also liked walking you to your car, especially when it was this late and dark, because the thought of anything happening to you was so devastating he couldn’t stand to think about it.

So he walked with you down the staircase and across the lot to where you parked your car early this morning and he pulled in next to you a little while ago. It was already dark, but the street lamp you parked your car under illuminated you and him as you stood under it, arms wrapped around yourself. You searched for something to say, he could see it in the way your lips twitched and your eyes roamed his face. For a moment, the sound of crickets and the eerie hum of night faded, and Derek’s words were thunder in his ears. He would never know unless he asked you, and he couldn’t live looking at your sweet face knowing he never even tried.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes nearly as big as planets amplified by your glasses, which glinted off them as you nodded rapidly, lips parting to take in a sharp breath. “Yes!”

Spencer was taken aback. His ears buzzed and a tingling sensation filled his extremities. He was elated, but thrown off by your complete enthusiasm. “Wha–really?”

You shook your head at him, laughing breathily as if he stole the wind from you. “Yes, of course I do, Spencer. I–I’ve wanted. . .” Your eyes looked between his nervously.

“You wanted what?” He insisted, leaning in because he had to know what you’ve been thinking, what you’ve been wanting from him that he missed. 

You looked down shyly, picking at your nails despite how your fingers shook. “I wanted to ask you out when I first met you. When you were just some guy in the library, and I thought you were obviously flirting by trying to impress me but. . . then you were telling the truth and I–I was so embarrassed I was wrong and I thought you didn’t like me like that. . . and soon enough you weren’t just some guy, you were Spencer, and I–um, I couldn’t let myself ruin it.”

His hands gently took yours, stopping their anxious picking. His pupils were blown wide as he looked at you, heart so full and beating so fast he heard it thrumming in his ears. “You couldn’t ruin anything. You’re so. . . perfect,” he mumbled, close enough to taste your air. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since you gave me that book. I saw you in every poem and reading your thoughts made me feel like I was in your head, feeling what you were feeling. I needed it after every case, I–I needed you. All I wanted was to ask you out but. . .”

He was at a loss for words, but you shook your hand, squeezing his hand in yours. “It’s okay, Spencer. . .” His eyes glanced down to your lips, but just as he considered leaning down to capture them with his, you ducked your head nervously again, softly letting go of his hands. Spencer reeled with disappointment he didn’t kiss you, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Um, I did give you that book on purpose. I think the most romantic thing on this Earth is poetry and. . . I hoped it was enough of a sign.”

He recovered quickly, excited just to know you returned his feelings. He sighed into the new open air between the two of you. “I knew it. You bewitched me.”

You giggled, a sweet sound that picked up as you met his eyes again, swatting at him with a hand. “No I didn’t!”

Your laugh dissipated and the two of you were standing in the parking lot, looking at each other under a streetlamp. “Saturday at seven?”

“What?”

“Our date? Is Saturday at seven okay?” He reiterated.

“Oh. Oh, yes. That’s a good time,” you stuttered, snatched from whatever daze you stared at him in. He smiled.

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure out the details?” He offered. You needed time to process it, he thought, because he knew he did. He would get home and sit on his couch, replaying every word from your lips and flutter of your lash in his head. Maybe that was the best part of an eidetic memory.

“Okay.” You nodded. He opened your car door for you and you climbed inside. “Good night, Spencer,” you hummed at him before closing the door.

He watched you leaving the parking lot before he got into his own car because he had to sit there for a minute, calming his pounding heart before he got out on the road. For the first time in a while, he was most excited for Saturday over Sunday.

[hypnoneghoul]

Hyp my good sir, I beg you for more on touch sensitive Dew 🙏

Touch for ghouls is a need. It might be said that it is for humans, too, but it’s different.

A ghoul that isn’t touched would…deteriorate over time, mentally and physically. They’d lose their mind and give in to the wild part of their soul.

The process had already started for Dewdrop, days before Rain was summoned.

Aether and Mountain had all but begged the young water ghoul to help with their mate once they'd noticed how Dewdrop fell in love with him at first sight. They realized quickly that Rain was that last chance; the last glimmer of hope.

And indeed, he helped Dewdrop slowly come back to life by reintroducing him to touch. Step by step the fire ghoul is healing and after a couple months he and Rain are preparing to take yet another step; sleep in one bed.

Before they do that, Rain sets up a wall made of bedding in the middle of the nest, to keep Dewdrop comfortable. The fire ghoul is grateful, wanting nothing more than to be able to sleep next to Rain, but scared of what unexpected touch would cause.

They decide on attempting to intertwine their tails—considering that the skin on Dewdrop’s is different than on the rest of his body, and that Rain’s own is very smooth; like the fire ghoul’s used to be.

“Goodnight, Dewdrop,” Rain mumbles when they’re all set. “See you in the morning.”

“Night, Rainy,” the other replies, and silence falls. Dewdrop’s anxiety makes it hard for him to fall asleep for a while, but when he lets it dissipate and focuses on the comfort of having Rain’s tail tangled with his own, sleep does take him.

Rain wakes up first in the early morning, to something heavy(ish) and warm spread out on top of him.

It takes a moment for him to wake up properly, open his eyes and realize that it’s Dewdrop.

At first he grins sleepily with pride, but then he panics.

What if the fire ghoul will freak out when he wakes up and fall back on his healing journey? No, no, Rain can’t have that. As much as it pains him to do it, he gently pushes Dewdrop’s sleeping body off of him and back onto the other side of the—somehow still existent—pillow wall.

Rain can’t stop chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for the other to wake up. When he does, Dewdrop doesn’t notice the water ghoul’s anxious behavior. It’s a good half an hour later when he decided to tell him what happened—and ask how he feels about it.

“Okay, so…” Rain starts, “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other smiles at him kindly, “is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just–I feel like you need to know you…you slept on me.”

“On you?” Dewdrop repeats with confusion. “Like…like I was touching you?”

“Yeah, you must’ve rolled over and you seemed–uhm, quite comfortable.”

The fire ghoul stares at Rain with his mouth agape for a little while before speaking again, “Uh–first of all, sorry–sorry for squishing you.”

“It’s alright,” Rain chuckles, “you’re not that heavy.”

“Sorry, uh–I…” Dewdrop’s voice cracks, “I have to process.”

“That’s fair, take your time,” the water ghoul assures and moves away to do something unrelated, not to stress the other out even more than he already is. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, too, to give Dewdrop space.

“So…looks like it’s all in my head,” he says when Rain comes back out.

“Seems so,” he agrees with a twitch of the corner of his lips.

“Do you think if–if I was able to sleep on you,” Dewdrop asks shyly, “do you think we could try hugging…now?”

“I don’t want you to–”

“Please. Please, Rainy, just for a moment,” he begs and Rain would be the most cruel person to have ever existed if he denied Dewdrop his hug.

He opens his arms and waits for the smaller ghoul to move. He’s nearly shaking—as excited as he is terrified.

Dewdrop closes his eyes before stepping forward. He gasps and clenches his jaw as Rain’s arm grazes his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” he whispers. He’s not giving up now.

Dewdrop lets out a hurt little sob and melts against the other ghoul, knees buckling. Rain wraps his arms around him and holds him up as the fire ghoul cries in relief.

He leans in and hits Rain’s chest and it’s…it’s fine.

He’s fine. 

“You–you’re so–you smell so nice,” he giggles through the tears. He can finally smell Rain like he's been wanting to for months.

“And you’re so warm,” Rain replies, nearly as emotional himself.

Just like that, Dewdrop is alright.

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 11: On Camera

Kurt Kunkle x Streamer/OF!Fem!Reader

Summary: Kurt wins a contest to meet his new favorite streamer. Little did he know there’s more to this contest than he’d ever anticipated.

Warnings: 18+ smut, loss of virginity (m), overstimulation, unprotected p in v sex, girth god Kurt, multiple orgasms, p*ssyjob, oral sex, sweetthansour!reader, humiliation kink, livestream sex

Kurt reread the congratulatory email with a wide smile on his face. He couldn’t believe he’d won a night of gaming with you! And all he had to do was answer some very personal and invasive questions such as what his kinks were, test results, and whether or not he’s a virgin. Maybe that’s what the new streamers are doing nowadays. Whatever it takes to draw in the viewers, he guesses.

Nonetheless, this is going to be a great opportunity for him. Not only does he get to play alongside one of his favorite female streamers but he gets to advertise his own channel. Even better…if he were to beat you in any game, your fans would surely flock to him.

Kurt could hardly sleep last night a wink last night, thoughts consumed with what he’ll do with his newfound fame. When he received the text message for your location, he practically catapulted into bed, rushing over to his closet for the best swag to wear.

“Dude, you are not fucking wearing any of that lame shit in your closet to see LatteBunny,” Bobby scoffs, dumping a backpack of clothes from his personal closet onto Kurt’s bed. “You’re so lucky I won’t let you go looking like an idiot because if I were a dickhead, I’d have ruined your chances with her. It should’ve been me winning the night with her.”

“I’m not even sure how I won.” Kurt says, rummaging through his options

“I know why. It’s because I wasn’t allowed to enter so they had no choice but to pick the lesser of the losers,” Bobby says with a scowl. “Soon as I turn 21 in like 4 years and she hosts another one of these contests, I’ll be in there like swimwear.”

“What do you think of this?” Kurt asks with a spin reveal. He sports a black graphic T-Shirt with white sweatpants. “It’s like chill enough to where it doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard but also it’s swaggy.”

“Of all the things here…” Bobby trails off with a frustrated sigh. “If you like it, I love it, dude. Whatever.”

“Will you and your followers be watching the livestream together?” Kurt asks with hopefulness. The more viewers, the better.

“Hell no, I’m not trying to get demonetized or traumatized.” He shudders.

————

Kurt gives an anxious knock on the door to your airbnb, shifting back and forth on either foot. Once the door swings open, Kurt’s jaw nearly falls to the ground when he sees you. God, you’re even prettier in person and it’s enough to make his knees buckle. He swallows hard, holding out a bouquet of flowers as his eyes drink in your form. You’re wearing a seamless black lace bodysuit that accentuates your curves; revealing but not enough to where he can see you fully nude.

“Are those for me?” You ask, clearly smitten.

He nods, absentmindedly.

“You’re so sweet…and so hot,” You reach a hand towards him as you step closer. He flinches a little, your succubus aura making him feel weak. You notice this and gently take his hand to soothe him. “Sorry, I hope I’m not making you nervous. I’m really nice once you get to know me personally.”

“A-are we on camera?” Kurt asks.

“Not yet,” You reply before biting your lip, looking him up and down. “I wanted some alone time with you first…if that’s okay with you.”

Kurt was a little disappointed but also really glad. He’d hate to have looked like a beta male in front of the viewers, especially so early in the visit.

“It’s cool.” He says.

“Great! Come in,” You grab his arm, dragging him inside. “I’m really excited to get to know you, Kent.”

“It’s Kurt,” He corrects, trying to keep up with you. You’re so fast despite being in heels. “Like my socials @/kurtsworld96.”

“Oops, I’m so sorry. My manager must’ve read it wrong on your questionnaire,” You seat him at a mini bar before locating a vase for your flowers. You head behind the counter of the bar and begin to mix a drink. “Hope you like sex on the beach.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. T-totally. I’ve had sex in all kinds of places. Especially on the beach. It’s one of my top favorite spots actually.”

You giggle. “You’re so funny, Kurt.”

He wasn’t sure what was so funny but as long as he got to make you laugh, he must’ve been doing something right. Usually girls found him to be quite bizarre but you’re just as nice as you are pretty. Not to mention how intoxicating you smell.

Kurt leans in as you busy yourself with the drinks, he takes a sniff of your blueberry scent and lets out a shaky sigh. You turn to look at him and he expects you to curse him out for it but instead you lean closer over the counter, allowing him access to your scent and your tantalizing cleavage.

“It’s a new scent I’m trying, ya like?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s really good. If you were a vape flavor, I’d definitely hit.” He says.

“That’s comforting to know,” You say, finishing up the drinks and putting them on a small tray. “Could you take these over to the conversation pit over there? I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’m on it,” Kurt obliges, taking the tray to its destination. The pit is reminiscent of the 70s; a large colorful area with geometric shapes surrounded all around by one large sofa. He notices the camera set up and the game console and he gets excited. It’s indeed a stylish place to play.

He removes his shoes before going down the small steps and setting the tray on the coffee table. “This place is badass. Very artsy.”

“I know right,” You reply, sounding far away. “It’s got some Norman Rockwell and Andy Warhol influences in there. It’s exactly why I chose this place so I can just admire the aesthetics while we enjoy ourselves.”

“Sick,” Kurt agrees, admiring the place. He registers your presence when he feels the seat beside him sink a little. You already have your drink in hand, his drink in the other outstretched towards him. “Thanks.”

You clink your drinks together and while you take your sip, he takes a big gulp before immediately coughing.

“Too strong?” You ask.

“Nah, it’s perfect,” He refutes. “In fact, I wish it were stronger.”

You scoot closer to him, thigh in contact with his and it takes everything in him not to hyperventilate.

“You look so tense. You really don’t have to be so shy. I’m just a normal girl.” You say softly, running your acrylic nails up and down his thick thigh like a cat. “How about we play some music—That should help, yeah? What do you like to hear?”

“I-I actually dj a little. Make my own songs.”

“Ooo, do you?”

“Mhm. I can do house music, electronic and dance, remixes…ya know the whole nine.”

“Don’t keep me waiting. I’d like to hear,” You hand him your phone and he fidgets with the device in search of Soundcloud, typing his profile and clicking his latest work.

The song blasts from the speakers, pumping it with the vibrations running through the both of you.

“What do you think?” He calls out over the song.

“It’s music alright.”

“It slaps.” He says with a smile, dancing a little. Next thing he knew, your lips were on his. He could only stay frozen as you move your mouth against his before parting.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” You ask with a teasing smile.

“How’d you know?”

“It’s written all over you, hon,” You laugh. “My question is…why me?”

“I don’t…understand.” He whispers, voice suddenly unable to project. You’re taking his breath away!

“Why’d you sign up for the contest?”

“B-because you’re my favorite streamer and I want to play with you.”

“Aww, am I really?” You cup his cheek. “Most guys are afraid to admit they like watching girl streamers.”

“Women, men…we’re all the same.”

“You do know that this was a contest for LatteBunnyAfterDark—my onlyfans page not the gaming channel, right? You won the night to fuck me on cam.”

He chokes on his drink. “Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“What for? You’re cute as fuck,” You brush his hair from his eyes. “I’m not sure I feel comfortable taking your virginity. That should be reserved for someone you truly care about. And a moment that intimate shouldn’t be broadcasted to thousands of people.”

“I-I’m okay with that. I want to lose it. Take it. You can have it. You’re already so special to me, remember? You’re my favorite streamer.”

“Hmm,” You fake ponder, acrylic-donned pointer finger against your chin. “I don’t know. Maybe we should ask my followers what they think.”

You saunter over to your tripod and hit record on your filming device. “Evening, my horny little jackrabbits, as you can very well see I am here with the winner of my contest, Kent from Kentsworld.”

“It’s Kurt from Kurtsworld…96.” He corrects once again, confused how you’ve already forgotten.

“Right! Well it turns out, Kurtie here is a small dick little virgin boy. Aren’t you, Kurt?”

“W-well, I…I’m a virgin but my cock is like super-huge. Like I’ve had girls turn me down because I’m so big. That’s why I’m a virgin.” He explains.

“What the fuck is that god awful sound?”

A viewer message chimes on screen read by a chat-to-speech bot.

“I know right. Ouch,” You laugh, sticking your fingers in your ears. “Kurt says he’s a DJ. Totally not lying; wink, wink.”

Kurt feels his cheeks flushing. He’s angry and humiliated and yet he still wants to fuck you.

“He wants me to pop his little cherry, jackrabbits,” You pout in feigned sadness. “But I don’t take virginities from followers because I want you all to lose yours to someone you all care for.”

Kurt looks over your shoulder, reading some of the passing messages. Most of them envy him and that gives him some pride.

“I’d want to lose it to you, my goddess.”

“It should’ve been me not him.”

“He is not HIM.”

“But I don’t know…I’d hate to leave someone when they’re in need. And he did win my contest. So…should I do it? Do I fuck him?”

The chat is going crazy with donations and followers sending in their suggestions that range from ungodly to practically demonic.

“Let him play a game against you. He loses, he goes home a virgin. He wins, he fucks.”

“That’s a splendid idea,” You praise, clapping your hands together. “My followers are actually so smart when the blood in their bodies decide to redirect its attention from their tiny cocks to their even tinier brains. Just for that, me and Kurt are going to make this a really good show.”

And then the two of you were gaming on camera and things did not go as Kurt planned. All night he couldn’t sleep thinking of the way he’d show himself superior to her in gaming. All night he thought of the many fun ideas he had planned for his new followers but now here he was being humiliated by you over and over again. He’d lost 6 games by now and that should have been the end. But when Kurt offered an all or nothing game you couldn’t resist.

Every now and then you’d seduce him enough to where he could barely keep his eyes on the game, wanting to watch the way you jumped up and down during every little victory; the way your full breasts would bounce or your ass would jingle in that damned bodysuit.

He should’ve lost the last game for sure. You were clearly upping your distractions except when he saw the winning words displayed on his screen, he couldn’t believe his eyes. In fact, he was so shocked he rubbed his eyes repetitively to make sure.

“Looks like you won,” You immediately fall to your knees in front of him. “Guess you can finally collect your prize.

Kurt is stiff in position, controller still in hand. The sound of his music still blasting as he tries to focus on that to keep from fainting.

You stroke him over his boxers a little but he continues to hold back his sounds. You remove the last barrier and his girthy cock springs out of its confines, bobbing side to side.

“Oh my god, look guys…he’s actually a cervix punisher. I’m going to be ruined,” You laugh and he groans at your nickname for his dick.

“T-told you. You probably want to run away, too.” Kurt rasps.

“Uh-uh, baby, I never back out of a challenge.” You lick the base of him and he whines, jumping high enough to make his heavy dick plop down against your face for a moment. You laugh some more, stroking him until his sticky pre-cum seeps from the tip. He really is so funny.

You lick the mushroom head, closing your lips around it to suckle before pulling off. He trembles beneath you and you snake a hand underneath his shirt, stroking his hairy tummy and chest for comfort. “Relax, Kurt, lemme make you feel so good. You deserve it for being my biggest fan.”

“It’s…a lot.” He says, out of breath.

“I know, baby,” You coo. “Let’s play another fun game? Each time you cum before we actually fuck, you’ll cum double that inside of me.”

Before Kurt could speak, your mouth was fully around him again. You’re professional; bobbing, twisting, slurping and gagging—he’s a complete mess. He’s sobbing out loud, large hands in your hair and tear-filled eyes are rolling into the back of his head.

Messages go off as they both curse and encourage Kurt for his time with you. But for the first time Kurt couldn’t care less about the followers or going viral, he’s getting the best head and soon he’s going to be inside of his favorite streamer.

He shocks himself when he cums down your throat, gasping for air and wriggling under you. You don’t pull off until he’s begging and pushing you away from him.

“Mmm, who knew virgins tasted this sweet.” You moan, licking your lips. “That’s twice you’ll be finishing inside me by the way.”

“I don’t think I can.” He whines.

You pull off your bodysuit, slowly letting him watch your every move. His hard member stirs up again, standing proud. “Sure, you can. Look how much he wants to please me.”

You crawl over him pulling off his shirt, hands on his hairy chest that’s matted down by sweat. You’re both in a position where the cameras have a good closeup of the action. They’ll get to see the moment Kurt enters you and officially become a man. “I want you to put it in, Kurt.”

With shaky hands, Kurt reaches between your bodies and grabs his painfully throbbing cock. He searches for your hole, dripping wet with your essence. He’ll need to have a taste of that before the end of the night. Gliding his cock up and down the length of you, he unintentionally teases your little nub.

You mewl, grinding your pussy back and forth on his length. He’s taking too long and you really needed to get off. His mouth drops watching you, move against him and, before he knew it, he was coming again. His cock twitches, making a sloppy mess against your puffy lips.

“Oh fuck, that’s good. Shit, shit.” He groans, gripping your waist to rock you against him. You feel your heartbeat in your core, on the brink of coming but you instead focus on nursing him through his own orgasm; playing in his hair as you do.

After some time he comes down, he shoots you a goofy smile. “Did I lose my virginity?”

“No, you fucking moron. You weren’t even inside her.”

Kurt looks up at you with fearful yet puppy dog hazel eyes, swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s Apple to bob in his throat. You wrap a hand around his neck, sinking onto his thick cock. The stretch is intoxicating.

You throw your head back and he lets out a strained cry in unison with your guttural moan. You look back down at him again with a wicked smile as you bounce in time to the beat of his music, the vibrations adding to the pleasure.

“That’ll be 4, by the way.”

[ruewrote]

𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟.

PAIRING: baxter radic x fem!reader WARNINGS: 'unrequited' love GENRE: angst to fluff SONG INSPIRATION: treasure by bruno mars WORD COUNT: 1.1k

navigation | ask | surviving summer masterlist

it was like she had superpowers. very annoying ‘superpowers’ at that.

summer had only known you for two weeks and had found out your long term crush on your best friend.

at first it was only little things like the way you’d lean a little too close to him as his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders as he talked to his friends. tightening his hold if you moved even an inch away from his touch, doing so without breaking conversation.

the smile on your face just proved how much of an effect it had on you, knowing that even in his subconscious he was thinking about you, even if it was only slightly.

the way you’d find him what you thought were the prettiest seashells and even though you’d also surf and make sure you had enough food and water for the two of you since you had a feeling he’d steal yours. definitely not because you know how much he loved your cooking.

there was an endless list of things that summer could have listed off to you and she did but even with her trying to give you the kick up the ass that you needed to confess how you felt, it just made you even more anxious. if she found out that you liked him that easily then how obvious was it to him?

so you distanced yourself from him, slowly but you did.

starting with taking longer to reply to his messages or sometimes not even answering them at all.

making your morning surfs more spread out throughout the week, carefully keeping yourself out of arm's reach quite literally.

with stopping everything that was your norm you felt like you almost lost a part of yourself in the process. 

being away from bax took a toll on your mental health even if it had been a couple of weeks, the realisation that the scent of his cologne on your pillow was fading made you sob loudly into your other pillow.

his touch was something that you missed the most. you didn't realise how much he used to before he wasn't able to at all. missing how his body practically wrapped around yours as he hugged you. god you missed his hugs the most.

staying out with the girls definitely eased your pain, even though they didn’t agree with the way you were dealing with this they were still there for you.

it had been just a little over a month of going no contact and even though it had been hard to do with being in the same friend group and all. you still did it.

whenever you'd look over to look at him, he'd already be looking at you. the act made your breath hitch, making you turn away and rejoin the conversation again.

everytime you looked into his big puppy dog eyes you would nearly cave, it was like they were begging for you to come back.

but you didn't!

. . .you may have just stayed in for the night whilst your friends partied or you genuinely would have.

eating your feelings in the middle of the night always helped, well that was before baxter decided to fall through your window nearly making you choke.

“bax? what are you–?” you uttered.

“no you’ve gone this long without talking to me you can wait a little longer, darlin’,” he coaxed as he walked over to your bed, towering over you in the process.

he's not normally one to do this so you just nodded as he sat in front of you, your knees knocking against each other as he did so.

baxter being this close to you after so long made you nervous, there was nowhere for you to run. it was time to face the music. “why have you been avoiding me? i've been trying to give you your space, but…”

“i couldn't go any longer without you, without knowing if it was something that i did wrong.” his eyes were glossy as he looked down at you.

and there it was. the last thing you wanted was for him to think he did something. hed only ever helped you and comforted you. all the guilt and regret came rushing back, the very thing that you had been trying to protect him from with his sisters is what you also made him feel.

leaning over wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into the biggest hug. “i'm so sorry, b. it's not you i promise.” his arms engulfed your waist bringing you even closer to him.

you stayed like that for a while, the two of you not even noticing since you had always been this close.

“god i've missed the way you smell.” he joked as he nuzzled his face into your neck and deeply sniffed, tickling you and making you laugh in the process.

pulling away to go back to sit down again when he pulled you into his lap.

“baxter!” 

“i love it when you say my name.” his voice lower now, all signs of joking were long gone. his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, leaving his hand to sit on your cheek. his thumb draws circles on your heated skin.

“so. why have you been avoiding me?”

your eyes drift away from him, body tensing with anxiety. “hey! it's just me, you can trust me.”

timidly glancing back at him. “i can't pretend anymore.”

he gives you a reassuring smile for you to continue.

“i'm in love with. . .you.”

“oh. my. god. the reason why you haven't talked to me in a month is because you love me?” he questioned, his grip loosened on you making your heart drop.

“yes.”

before you could say anything else he tackles you onto your back and begins to tickle you. 

you laugh so hard that you’re out of breath as he continues to relentlessly tickle you. 

he eventually stops, chuckling at your breathless state, “you- you little shit! ive been in love with you forever! ever since i met you at that surf shop to be exact.”

he was now hovering over you, arms either side of you trapping you in.

“you have?”

“yes!”

“why didn't you say something?” 

he deadpans as if the answer was obvious.

“okay, okay fair.”

silence takes over the two of you. “so what now–?”

he leans down, closing the space between you, his lips brushing yours. the initial shock dissolves as you melt into the kiss, your hands running up his torso to rest on his chest. he pulled away only to not get too far as you tugged him closer to leave long pecks on his lips, making him smile into them.

“damn you can't get enough of me already?” he playfully wiggles his eyebrows at you making you laugh.

you felt stupid for doing what you did, but extremely happy with the outcome.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨

It’s been a hot minute so idk if any of you are still here with me🫣 we do have an Azriel pov here.

warning: nothing major, past trauma.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Zofie’s pov:

She sat at the top of the steps for hours. Long given up on running towards the door with every scratch or creek that she heard. With her head resting against the railing, Zofie couldn’t help but let her mind consume her. Nit-picking at all of her choices. She had done the opposite of being a good daughter. And she too had promised to love Azriel forever, so what was shifting?

Her thoughts slithered towards Nyx, who had been claiming most of her mind now. She could see why Azriel wouldn’t want her with him. And maybe it wasn’t even him trying to protect her; maybe it was him trying to keep the high-fea bloodline clean. What did she have to do with the high lords? Nothing. She saw the high lord and lady from time to time, but she was way closer to Uncle Cassian.

Then her thoughts drifted to the fact that she didn’t know all that much about Nyx either. Zofie didn’t even know his other friends. How many were they? What if all he was doing was just being friendly? He could very well have a lover. A mate. Preppy parents in desperate need to marry off their children to form bonds between courts, Nyx’s voice ran in her ears. Of course, Rhys was no doubt looking for a match for his son. And what was she thinking? Letting herself dream that maybe one day…

The sound of the door clicking open made Zofie shoot up. Just with her lack of focus, the girl ended up hitting her head against the side of the railing. Whining in pain, Zofie quickly reached to press her palms against the aching spot, only to lose her footing as her ankle buckled and the center of gravity shifted. She managed to let out a yelp, but the hard fall never came. Instead, the endlessly soothing smell of night filled her senses.

"Zofie," her father’s worried voice made her look up quickly. “Look at me, hey, did you hit your head hard?" Azriel’s worried golden eyes tore through the last bits of her self-control. Without a second thought, Zofie scrambled to get closer. Hands messily tangling with Azriel’s leathers as she wrapped herself around him. “I’m so sorry," she whimpered, “So sorry." Azriel’s arms wrapped around Zofie’s frame with ease in an instant. “Breathe for me, Zofie; you will make yourself faint, baby girl." The calmness of his voice strangely unsettled her. He was supposed to be mad. Was supposed to be frustrated with her. Angry. “Why aren’t you upset? You should yell," Zofie muttered, pulling back, her black eyes filling up with tears. Azriel frowned for the first time since he walked through the door. “Have I ever raised my voice at you?" the spymaster questioned before sighing, “Well, besides earlier today, it wasn’t even at you. I wasn’t angry with you." He softly wiped the tears from beneath Zofie’s eyes. “I will never do it again. I will never see him, I promise”, she said, feeling her own body start to swirl with emotions flooding from all over the house. Fruition, confusion, pain, sadness, and dread. Gasping for air, Zofie looked back at Azriel, whose shadows quickly drowned out any distractions. Closing the two of them in the safety of cool darkness. “Breathe, little star," Azriel muttered against Zofie’s hair, “Remember how we do it?" His firm gaze met her frantically blinking eyes. One of the shadows settled at the back of her neck; the other two wrapped around her hands, cooling the main point of her anxious spell.

“You’re safe." Azriel slowly ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her the best he could. “I can't," her pained breaths ripped at Azriel, but he knew that now any excess emotions had to be suppressed, “We’re in your safe bubble." With a fluster of his wings, Azriel wrapped them around the two of them. “Press your palms against me; let it out," and she would have, but suddenly it made her stomach twist. Because this man. Man who didn’t have to take her in. Would know that she had all of these thoughts. From hate. To frustration. All directed at him. All because she was being naive. “I can't," she said, pulling back and hitting her father’s leathery wings. “Of course you can; you’ll burn out otherwise," Azriel urged her, “Come on, baby." She knew that he was desperate for a reason. Zofie had sent herself into overdrive once, and it wasn’t pretty. She could barely stand for weeks. No speech. She could barely get food down. That had been the first time she had seen Azriel with a full stubble. He had refused to leave her, even for a minute. He had been there. Always been there looking out for her. Another painful cry slipped past her lips, and everything went black.

Azriel pov:

Azriel’s eyes lingered on Zofie’s limp body lying in bed. He had been fixing the throw covering Zofie for the past hour. One moment it seemed too high up, and so she no doubt had to be too warm, but then the other he feared that she wasn’t warm enough. Azriel knew there was no way to measure the impact of the outburst until morning. Till Zifie opened her eyes. And she would open her eyes because...

“You should get some sleep”, your soft voice made Azriel turn from the bed. Some of the tension eased. It always did when you were around. His beautiful mate. Mother of his children. “I’m not tired," he muttered, fingers lazily running up and down Zofie’s arm. "Azriel, you can’t fool me." The moment your hands touched Azriel’s shoulders, he instantly felt warmth seeping through his aching bones. “How are you doing?", Azriel knew what that question implied because he had a feeling that you were aware of where the roots of all of this were.

“How can she think that I don’t love her?", Azriel shook his head, “Had I seriously been so... shortsighted?” You cupped his face tenderly. “She knows, she’s simply confused. Emotions are running high…”, “That was days of amped-up frustration that I’ve caused, YN”, his tone was much higher, and the moment that hit Azriel, his hand instantly came to clasp his mouth.

“It’s okay. You’re okay," you gently reached for both of his hands, giving them a little squeeze. “She’s growing up, Azriel. Things are strange and new”, leaning in, pressing your forehead against his, “She was scared that your yellow was fading," you admitted. “My love for her hasn’t changed," Azriel muttered. “I know, love, but your heart is now making room for Novie, and I think insecurities are running high." Azriel glanced back at Zofie. He never looked at her differently. Never treated her like a dainty porcelain doll. Yes, he protected her. Was ready to go to war for her. Because he had always seen her as his. He understood what having inner demons meant. To this day, Azriel had days when battling them got way too much. Hence, he had always craved to protect them so much. That desire to chase any doubt away fueled him because they deserved better. They deserve to know life in vibrant colors, not dim grays and blacks.

Azriel’s eyes fell on Zofie again. The girl had shifted slightly, curling deeper into herself. “Will you be good up there alone tonight?" Azriel gazed up at his mate. The raw instinct beat at him to go up to his bedroom and guard the new mother of his child, to be devoted to tending to them only. But it wasn’t Zofie’s nor Axel’s fault that the same blood didn’t bond them all. And Azriel had promised to protect them like his own, so as hard as it was, now he knew that he had to step down on the primal instinct and put his first children into the equation too. You smiled lovingly up at him and said, “I won’t be alone. Your mother is here, and Axel should be coming home soon." Stepping forward, you let yourself snuggle into Azriel’s chest for a heartbeat. Pouring as much love and reassurance into the embrace as you could. Azriel’s lips lingered on your forehead. “If you need me..." he muttered, but you instantly shook your head. “Stay with her, Azriel. She needs you," and that was all it took for Azriel to nod. His shadows carefully blew out a handful of candles lighting up the room. Leaving a bare minimum of light that wouldn’t bother anyone’s slumber, and if by any chance Zofie was to wake up during the night, he didn’t want her to open her eyes to darkness. As carefully as he possibly could, Azriel scooped Zofie’s tiny frame into his arms before climbing into her bed. Out of shared instinct, the spymaster started to hum the melody he used to hum to the two kids when they were younger, and nights of settling down were harder. His scared fingers carefully brushed her ink-black hair away from her face. Lips turning upwards as he let her way more mature features sink in. Never had he thought that he would be wishing the time would go slower. But it also filled him with endless pride that he too had played a role in making sure this tiny girl would slowly grow into a strong-minded young woman. With a deep sigh, Azriel pressed a loving kiss onto Zofie’s forehead, making the girl snuggle deeper into her father’s chest. “I’ll always love you, little star. As overbearing as I can be, I will always love you the most because you taught me what it was like to be a father”, he muttered, settling in to watch over her for the night.

Nyx’s pov:

Nyx had been looking through the window of his mother’s gallery for the past couple of hours. He rubbed his chest at times when the feeling of anxiety threatened to choke him out. His mind was running so fast that there were moments when he lost hold of it. Thought after thought, angrily beating at his consciousness.

“Are you antsy about going back?", Feyre’s voice made him grip the window sill tighter. He had forgotten that his mother had even been here with him for a moment. "No," he said bluntly. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling if he was being honest. He haven't been able to keep up with any of the emotions for some time now. They all seemed so tangled up that he didn’t know where one started and the other ended. Or it was so chaotic that he was sure that he felt all of it at once, and the feeling sure wasn’t pretty. It was different with Zofie, though. For some reason, his inner chaos always subsided when she was close. It felt calmer. It was as if she was there, sorting through his mess for him.

“Really?", Feyre’s amused voice filled the room. Nyx loved his mother. She was an example of hope to him. Every time he lost faith in the future, he would look for her memory books, ones she had sat down with Rhys to write while she had been pregnant with him. Nyx just wished they would understand that now he wasn’t sure if his own story linked with his parents.

“It’s what we do as soldiers; we need to earn our rank," he answered sharply with an exhale. He didn’t want to fight with his mother. Nor did he want to make her upset. He just didn’t want to talk about anything regarding this court. “And if you didn’t give me a textbook answer?" Feyre dunked her brushes into the water, turning to face her sun. Nyx knew that while he could hide his inner battles from his father with anger. His mother was way harder to fool. Nyx simply shrugged, not knowing what exactly she was trying to get out of him.

“It’s okay to have things that you miss back home," her delicate hands inked with marriage vows cupped Nyx’s face as she gazed up at him. “You treat her well?" At those words, Nyx had gone ridged. “What?", he muttered, stepping away. “Do you treat Zofie well?", Feyre smiled at him. Nyx wasn’t surprised that she knew about their little adventure last night, but this seemed like a lot more of an intentional question. One that implied way more.

“Of course, I treat her well," Nyx grumbled with a frown. “What kind of question is that?" he asked, shaking his head in frustration. Why was everyone constantly assuming that he was out there, like some old creep following her around? It wasn’t intentional that their paths crossed so often. They just did...

“Do you love her?", That question had sent all the oxygen out of Nyx’s lungs. Making him gape at his mother as if she had grown a third eye on her forehead. “No, Mom, what even… We grew up together!", Nyx threw his arms up in the air in frustration, which suddenly washed over him. “And that’s supposed to be an issue?", Feyre simply smiled up at him. That kind of smile implied that she was up for a chance to change his mind. Nyx turned away, moving to glance out of the window once more. “Whatever. I’m not even going to entertain this conversation." His mother let out a knowing laugh, returning to her painting once more.

Nyx gazed out into the night. His eyes narrowed out on a figure that slipped out of the library’s back door. Leaning forward, he tried to identify the figure. He knew that whoever it was had to have a pass from his parents. “Is that…?", Nyx trilled off. It couldn’t be because they had separated and... “Axel? Yes”, Nyx gazed back at his mother, who hadn’t even lifted her eyes to look out the window. That fucking lying bastard. I’ll be heading home my ass. “Have you hired him to work in the library?", Nyx had frowned in confusion. But Feyre shook her head. “Gwyn is helping new girls settle into quarters. Axel kindly offered to carry boxes”, the high lady said as if there wasn’t anything else.

“Carry boxes, mhm." Nyx watched as Axel stopped in his tracks before waving up at someone. The princeling’s eyes followed the gesture, finding another figure, barely visible in the sixth-floor window, waving right back. Why was he always on the sidelines with everyone? Why hadn’t Axel said anything about this to him yet?

“He’s a sweetheart," his mother hummed in approval. “There was a girl who hadn’t left her room in over a week. Axel managed to coax her out in a day," no doubt a girl Nyx had seen slipping back into the library when he had bumped into Axel earlier on. “A charming young man," Feyre hummed, making Nyx shake his head. “I’ll give him your praise”, after a proper interrogation, of course.

Unfortunately, Axel’s adventures brought him little satisfaction. And quite honestly, Nyx had given up on trying to snoop around his best friend’s business. Because he knew Axel and knew that the deepest and most heartfelt conversation always struck out when they were up in camps. Nyx had been restless for the days to come. Hanging around all the places he and Zofie usually went to. He was waiting for an inkling of any deeper emotions that would drag him towards her.

They had gotten the call that tomorrow morning they would be going back. And he knew one thing—he couldn’t go back without seeing her one more time. The image of her teared up face had haunted Nyx ever since. He hated it when she cried. He hated it when she was upset. But it seemed as if she had just disappeared into thin air. Nyx had hoped to see her at dinner in the lake house last night, but Y/N had simply said that Zofie wasn’t feeling well. Had something happened afterward? Had her magic flared up once more? But twice in two days. That would be way too much. Or maybe she was just avoiding him?

Stomping through the high grass, Nyx let his mind consume him once more. He knew that Rhys had called a meeting that afternoon. Meaning that Azriel and Cassian were both in the office now. If he was lucky, the females would also be there, meaning that only Zofie’s grandma would be at the house. Nyx rounded the back of the house. He hadn’t made any plans. Hadn't thought of what he was going to say. He wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous to see her. They knew each other like the backs of their heads. Nyx’s movements halted when he reached the back garden, and his ears picked up on a light rustling.

But it took him a peek from behind the hedges to glimpse at the only source of light that he had for as long as he could remember. Zofie was humming quietly as she hung the wet clothes on the lining. Gently smoothing down the fabric. Hair messily done up. He frowned at the lack of warmer clothes on her body. The sun was way warmer today, but the yellow dress with a thick knit sweater still felt too little to keep her delicate frame warm.

She was hanging the last piece of baby clothes when Nyx stepped right behind her, making Zofie’s hands freeze in the air. Shoulders stiffening. "Zo...", Nyx didn’t even have enough time to finish calling out to her when she finally turned to face him. “What are you doing here?" A slight frown creased her brows. “I wanted to... We go back tomorrow”, he muttered under his breath, her slightly dismissive tone hurting him way more than he thought it would.

"Okay," Zofie muttered, turning to pick up the basket. “Okay? That’s all?", Nyx reached for her hand, but Zofie pulled it back instantly. "What…", Nyx breathed out, his heart racing in his chest. Making his throat feel tight. “Look me in the eyes," he demanded, way harsher than he intended, but this wasn’t them. She wasn’t cold with him. She…

"Go," Zofie said simply. “No, not until you tell me what’s going on," Nyx pushed. “It’s best if we don’t meet up for a bit," Zofie said, wrapping her arms around herself as the colder breeze picked up. Clouds covered up the rays of sun peaking out moments ago. Nyx instantly felt the urge to pull her closer and shield her from the icy wind. “Is Azriel...", “Don’t drag my father into this. You have no right to drag him into this and to speak for me," she said, pointing a warning finger at him. He knew that he had stepped on the line with his last interaction with his uncle, but... "Go, Nyx, have a safe trip," Zofie said, pushing the loose strands of her hair beneath her ears.

"Sunny," his words were barely a whisper, but she simply shook her head and said, ��We are no longer children. It’s time we grow up." Zofie rested the basket on her hip. “My world and your world... they’re different," Zofie muttered, and Nyx swore he saw the way her lower lip quivered. “You fit perfectly in my world... You’re my best friend," Nyx called out to her as she turned to walk away, his feet carrying him straight to her without hesitation. His palms reached out to her, cupping her face, and a slight shiver ran through her at his touch. They were inches away. She was a breath away. Nyx’s purple eyes desperately searching for any clues as to why she was shutting him out. Zofie’s free hand pushed against Nyx’s chest as she pulled free of his embrace. “Have a safe trip," she muttered, her hesitant fingers reaching up to touch Nyx’s cheeks, but the moment he leaned into the touch, Zofie turned back, rushing towards the patio stairs. "Sunny," Nyx called out, but she was already at the door. So he stood there. He stood there until the sky started weeping alongside him. Taking to the skies with an angry cry.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi @stressed-reader @woodland-mist @goldenmagnolias @nocasdatsgay @lees-chaotic-brain

[strniohoeee]

Could you write a Matt x fem y/n where she gets overwhelmed with life (or something like that) and she tries to hide it from Matt. She fails miserably and in telling him what’s wrong she has a panic attack, so he has to guide her through it. Like kind of angsty in the beginning but very fluffy in the end? If that’s okay with you?

Trapped

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is struggling to balance her stressful life without realizing it. Unable to figure out what’s wrong some questions from Matt make her spiral and panic takes place🗣️

Warnings⚠️: None it’s just short 😭

Song for the imagine: Silver Soul- Beach House

Trap

(Past tense) Trapped

Verb

Prevent (someone) from escaping from a place

Lately my mind has been clouded by this overwhelming feeling of stress. I’m not usually a stressed person, but when I do find myself getting overwhelmed I handle it well.

But right now in this moment I wasn’t sure what was wrong and why I couldn’t control these feelings. I suppose it’s true that stress is a silent killer.

I couldn’t really pinpoint why my mind was racing and I felt this impending doom waiting for me. Like I was on the brink of snapping?

To make matters worse I’ve been distancing myself from Matt and his brothers because I didn’t want to seem like a buzz kill. Constantly plagued by the “what’s wrong” was making me annoyed. Because I simply couldn’t say what was wrong because I didn’t even know.

Matt had come over to my apartment to spend the night with me. I felt horrible because he was so excited and I just wanted peace and quiet, and to go to sleep.

I was being such a bitch, and I tried not to be but it was becoming very hard. My mind was constantly racing and for what? I had no idea….

“Baby are you okay?” Matt asked me, snapping me out of my trance

“Huh what?” I said looking at him

“Well I’ve been talking to you and you haven’t said a thing” he said furrowing his brows at me

“I’m- I’m sorry” I said shaking my head

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem off” he replied rubbing my arm

“Yes Matt I’m fine” I said sternly kind of brushing his arm off of me

“Oh uhh I’m sorry” he said snatching his hand back

“Listen I’m sorry I’m just not feeling the best today” I said rubbing my forehead

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asked repositioning himself on the couch

“What is there to talk about when I don’t even know what’s going on in my brain” I said frustrated

“I’m not trying to make you upset so we don’t have to talk about” he said looking at me

“I’m sorry, okay, it’s not you I promise. I’m just stressed” I said back to him

“Well baby what are you stressed about?” He asked reading my face for an answer

“Matt I don’t know okay” I said feeling my heart beat quicken

“It’s okay” he said rubbing my knee which caused my anxiety to spike even more

His over analyzing of the situation made my brain go haywire. Anxious thoughts infiltrating my mind.

“I’m just stressed about a lot…..my content, and then my part time job and then also juggling school, and then my mom called me the other day to say that my dog is probably dying, and I have tons of bills and so much stuff to do and such little time” I said my chest rising and falling

“It’s okay to feel that way. You’re young and you’re doing a lot and living on your own isn’t easy” he said tucking my hair behind my ear

“And the warranty is up for my car so I have to call and purchase it again, and my manager has been trying to get a meeting in with me, and I have to fly back home in two weeks”

“and….and…..why does my chest feel like it’s tightening?” I suddenly blurted out the last part

“Y/N, you have to calm down okay. You’re freaking yourself out just breathe” Matt said sitting up

“I can’t breathe and my hearing is going out, my vision seems blurry? Am I going to pass out?? Why can’t I breathe Matt?” I said breathing quickly and erratically

“Listen to me, okay listen to my voice. You’re having a panic attack. You need to focus on your breathing and calm down” he said grabbing my hands and sitting in front of me

“I can’t” I said staring blankly as tears ran down my face

“Yes you can baby” he said

“Why am I crying?” I asked trying to breathe

“You’re having a breakdown, you’re going to be okay just do as I say” he replied back

“Remember when I took you to the cape and we went to that river?” He asked me

“Yes” I said shakily

“Okay now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth” he said wiping my tears

“Well remember how beautiful it looked, and how vibrant the tree were….we sat down on a rock and you put your feet in the water” he said to me

“Yes I remember” I replied blinking my tears away

“And you tried to count the rocks in the water but you couldn’t” he said

“Yeah there were too many I kept messing up” I said laughing a bit

“And then you just focused on the water running through your feet, and you said that-“ I cut him off

“I said that it felt like silk running along my skin” I replied smiling at him

“Exactly, and you said the wind blowing through your hair made you feel like a main character in a movie” he replied laughing

“Yes I remember” I said laughing

“And do you remember who was there with you?” He asked and to this I furrowed my eyebrows

“Of course Matt, it was you” I said looking at him

“Exactly, I will be with you no matter what. I will always be by your side” he said kissing my knuckles

I had calmed down and my mind had cleared. Finally coming to my senses at what just happened. My body and mind feeling exhausted

“Thank you Matt” I said smiling at him

“Always my love. I’ll always be here for you. You should never let yourself get this way. If you ever feel any amount of stress just tell me I can help you” he said rubbing my cheek with his thumb

“I’m sorry I just don’t want to seem like a burden” I replied looking down

“You’re never a burden. Because when I’m stressed you’re always there to help me and I want you to do the same” he told me

“Okay Matt I will. I promise” I said leaning into his chest after he sat back on the couch

“Listen, you're doing well enough to quit your part time job, and if you ever need any money for anything just let me know okay. I want to help you! I’ll fly with you back home, and I'll go to the dealership to get the warranty package for your car again. Let’s look at your calendar together and schedule the meeting with your manager. And I can help be your study buddy for your courses” he replied rubbing my shoulders

“Thank you Matt I really appreciate it” I said melting into his touch

“This is what I’m here for! To be there for you always” he replied kissing my shoulder

“I love you” I said

“I love you too” he replied back

I looked over my shoulder and he placed a kiss on my lips. A kiss that let me know how loved I was….

The End

Hiiiii I hope you enjoyed this one! I have two stories similar to this on my page, so I tried my best to make it different😭😭 I love yall and I hope you enjoyed this one🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You - (Penelope/Colin) Part 1

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn't giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Part 1

Penelope stared out at the pond, her last conversation with Colin still running through her mind. I miss you. Few months ago his words would have sparked incredible joy in her but hearing his smug confession last night had elicited nothing but rage. Even now an explosive anger threatened to burn her from the inside out - but she reminded herself to stay composed. Losing her calm over Colin Bridgerton was simply not worth it, not when she had far more important things to worry about.

“Penelope. How are you?”

Hearing Lady Violet’s voice from behind, she turned around to greet the older woman. Except she wasn’t alone. Of course not. Behind her stood most of her family, Colin and Eloise on one side, Gregory and Hyacinth on the other. Penelope quickly shifted her gaze back to Lady Violet. “I’m quite well. How are you?”

“You haven’t paid us a visit in a long time.”

Penelope sensed the scorn vibrating off of Eloise in waves, but she ignored her former friend. Even though her soul ached at the loss of their friendship, a part of her had already grown resigned to their new reality. “I’m afraid country life has kept me busy all these months.”

“Well, you’re back now. I hope to see you at the house more often.”

There was no mention of the falling out with Eloise, nor did Penelope expect there to be. Especially with Eloise pretending she no longer existed. Her eyes roamed over to her friend, only to be ignored. Inevitably her gaze slid over to Colin, and she suddenly found herself the recipient of his intent focus. Somber blue eyes penetrating her through to her very core, making her rattled and anxious and breaking down the very calm façade she worked so hard to build.  

Throughout their entire friendship he’d always been sweet and funny, filling her dull world with hope and color, but the night of her mother’s ball she’d seen the kind of cruelty he was capable of. It was a side of him that she never wished to see again. And feeling his piercing gaze right into her soul, in a way he’d never looked at her before, reminded her of how much of a stranger he really was. “Forgive me, Lady Violet, but I must take my leave. Mama shall be waiting for me.”

She quickly walked past the group, breathing a sigh of relief at no longer being under Colin’s scrutiny. Her relief, however, lasted only a few seconds. Because almost immediately Colin was striding alongside her.

“Pen, we need to speak.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I’ll do the talking.”

“And I’m not interested in listening.”

“Too bad. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

She cursed his long legs, because while she struggled to keep up the fast pace he seemed to glide along the path without much effort. Short of running away from him, which would surely cause a scandal amongst the crowd promenading, she had no choice but to keep walking.

“I’m sorry. Truly.” His voice was soft, velvety like butter, like he’d practiced the words many, many times in preparation for the performance of a lifetime. “My words that night-”

“Do you know that I read your letters over the summer? Despite my anger, I still read them.”

An unexpected rawness laced his voice. “Why?”

“Because I needed to know. Would I recognize that insincerity in your words now that I knew the truth about your disdain towards me. And do you know what I discovered?”

She finally turned to look at him, and just for a moment the world stopped. Like it always did. His eyes were bluer than the sea itself, a symphony of agony and need, beckoning her towards him. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, her heart caught in a whirlwind of chaos.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a plea. It was a demand. As if he was entitled to her thoughts, her heart. Her very soul.  Well, damn him. Damn him for playing her for a fool. And damn herself for ever loving him. “You are an extraordinarily talented writer, Mr. Bridgerton. So good in fact that I woulld never have guessed your true thoughts if I didn’t hear you utter them myself.”

“That’s not fair. It was one night, Pen! One night! When I was drunk out of my mind and said something foolish. Are you really willing to give up on me after years of friendship because of something so small?”

“Yes.” Her response was quick and resolute, surprising even herself.

Stunned, Colin stared back at her. “Yes?” The tremor in his voice was unmistakable. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

The change in him was sudden and abrupt, taking her by surprise when he moved swiftly to block her path.

The blues of his eyes were so dark they bordered on brown, a storm brewing in them. Staring back at her was a man she didn’t recognize, different from the boy she grew up with,and the man who humiliated her without a thought. This was a stranger in front of her, anger etched on his face, jaw clenched with tension.

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

She didn’t think he could hurt her more, but he managed to do it nonetheless. “I never expected you to court me, Colin. You don’t love me. I’m quite aware of that. But you could have told them there was nothing between us. You could’ve even said I meant nothing to you. Instead you mocked me, derided me so you could look good in front of your peers, and that makes you someone I never want to associate with.”

 “I made a mistake, Pen.”

“Miss Featherington,” she bit out through gritted teeth. “That is who I am to you from now on. Nothing more.”

“So that’s it? I make a mistake and you erase me from your life just like that?” He snapped his finger angrily. “Are you so fucking perfect that you’ve never wronged anyone?

They’d been standing still for far too long, their conversation growing more potent every second. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of glances in her direction, people’s eyes sliding over her and Colin, and she realized how dangerous this was. Risking her carefully crafted plans for a few heated moments with him was idiotic. “People are staring at us, Colin.”

“I don’t care.”

“Obviously.” She offered a small smile at the couple who walked past her, trying to appear amiable. “You may not be concerned about my reputation but I am. And I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my way.”

“I’m not willing to give up on our friendship like you.”

His snarky words drew her gaze back to him. “Walk away, Mr. Bridgerton. Let me be.”

“And if I don’t?”

The hint of menace sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “You would not be the gentleman you claim to be.”

“Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps everything you’ve accused me of is true.” He took a step closer, eyes shining brightly. “Maybe I am cunning and cruel. What then?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “What is it that you want from me?”

“Forgiveness.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you’re being rude.”

Eyes locked, they regarded each other intently. She didn’t understand what he was doing, why he was behaving this way. Why his stare seemed to be all consuming, studying her, trailing down to her mouth when she licked her bottom lip before drifting back up again. He’d never behaved this way before, A complete stranger in every way. “If you ever valued me as a friend, you would do as I ask.”

“I could say the same. If you valued me, you wouldn’t cast me aside.”

“You can not force me to continue this.”

“Would that be such a hardship? To move past one mistake and leave it behind us?” Desperation brimmed from him, he swallowed audibly. “I may not wish to court you but you are important to me. You’re my dearest friend. I can not envision a life without you.”

She exhaled a long, drawn-out breath. “You must.”

His lips twisted into a cruel plea. “Why?”

“Because I am to be married, Colin!” Instantly she regretted her words, hating herself for letting him provoke her. Yes, it was the truth, a plan that had taken months to carefully develop and plot – and now she’d ruined it by announcing it too early, and to him of all people!

“What?” He faltered back, stunned by her words. “You’re engaged? To whom? Why-”

“All you need to know is that my future husband and I have already discussed the matter and he wishes for me to have nothing to do with you. So goodbye, Mr. Bridgerton, because this the last time you and I will speak alone.” She stormed away, before he could stop her.

To be continued...

A/N - Um, thoughts? Feedback is always appreciated. I'm liking the idea of Colin and Penelope going head to head over the destruction of their friendship :)

[serene-sun]

𝔐𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔶 𝔇𝔞𝔶 24: “𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭”

Pairing: Aether/mountain

Sum: earth ghouls are very emotional after being summoned

MUSHY MAY BY @forlorn-crows !!!

“He’s crying again,” ifrit says

“Yeah,” Aether sighs as he moves the curtain out of his view of the window again, “He wont come inside either, even when it’s raining.”

“Well, he must come in at some point to eat, just have to wait him out.” Dewdrop says as he also looks out the window.

The newly summoned earth ghoul had been crying under the weeping willow tree for more than two days now. Earth ghouls were known to be extremely personal and protective over friends and family. Just like quintessence ghouls, they held deep bonds with things they loved. So it was a point to time they called “the weeping willow phase” of when the earth ghoul mourned the loss of both their habitat and their people.

It could be hard for them to find a new beloved, so this period would last until they bonded with their new pack mates.

“He doesn’t have to eat, remember?” Ifrit nods as he unfolds his arms, “Earth ghouls are so stubborn, they always find a way to outgrow their issues but still get so emotional.” He says as he puts a hand on aethers back, motioning that he was leaving.

After Ifrit left, Dewdrop looked up to Aether, “What are we going to do? It was easy to bond with Ivy because he didn’t like all of the ants getting on him so he stayed inside. But I’m afraid our new friend will run off.”

“I know…” Aether sighed again as his vision relaxed into the golden red sky that caressed the ministry as the sun started to fall into the mountains.

“I’m not the best at….talking….but you-“ Dewdrop thought, “I mean you were kind of made for talking to others.” The water ghoul smiled awkwardly, they weren’t the best at talking one on one as most of them were either shy or anxious if not both.

“I’ll talk to him, just tell Papa that we’re still trying before he gives up on us.” Aether chuckled at the end, he rubbed the base of his horn in frustration on the situation.

Terzo was a great leader, but he was known to grow impatient rather quickly.

“It’s getting a little chilly out here, why don’t you come inside?” Aether said softly as he walked up to the earth ghoul.

With a flinch, the whimpering ghoul peaked a teary eye out of his tucked arms from his knees. He looked at aether, not with fear, with sadness as another cry strung out of his sore throat.

A gently breeze hushed the sounds of the ministry as the long strand of vine and leaf from the willow tree blew like hair in the gentle summer breeze, Aether kneeled down beside him.

“I know it’s difficult, but you must continue.” Aether said with a frown as he placed a hand on the ghouls shoulder.

The earth ghoul was large, tall as a matter of fact and long eyelashes that collected his tears of his puffy eyes. The ghouls hair was dark, a sort of brown that shifted green highlight in the flittering light of the setting sun. Skin, a neutral green with darker pigmented spots as his veins showed through his pale skin like small vines that blended in with the moss that spread across his finger tips and around his joints. His ears pointed, many chips and cuts that covered him like a story book. His eyes were a piercingly soft purple like a cluster of amethyst. The earth ghoul curled up into a ball more as he rubbed his nose, a tear falling down the apple of his cheek.

Aether sat beside him against the hunk of the tree, “if you come inside, I will get you better clothes and you wont have to get all wet from the rain like you did last night.”

The ghoul couldn’t deny that sounded wonderful, but he couldn’t get the images of his life in the pit out of his memory. But something urged him to let a hand slowly fall from his own embrace and trail down into the dirt to pick one of the flower bulbs. He held it in his hand gently, brining it up beside Aethers face as it suddenly bloomed a white blossom that swirled with life as it paralleled the quintessential ghouls white iris.

Aether was amazed a little, his heart fluttered and ached for the sadness dripping from the ghouls aura, soiling the soil and atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful, we have plenty of plants in the greenhouse.” Aether strikes a conversation, “But tell me, why must you stay attached to this fair tree?”

He lays the flower back on the ground, the bloom quickly fading as his touch leaves the plant.

“Salix Babylonica,” the ghoul finally speaks a soft but deep whisper as he rubs a tear from his porcelain face, “Mountain is covered with them this time of year.”

“Your right, they are,” Aether smiles as he looks up the tree and it’s branches draped with green, “Mountains, like you, are very strong and steady.”

The earth ghoul shakes his head, “I was I was like a mountain, sturdy and responsibility, beautiful and peaceful.” He traces a root in the ground with his finger, “But im not, im emotional and unwise.”

“I simply doubt that, if anything i think you are more a mountain than any other earth ghoul I’ve met.” Aether says, placing his hand on the ghouls

Earth looks up at Aether, “I’m not sad to loose my life in the pit, I never knew anyone there who was nice.” He admits solemnly.

The quintessence ghoul looks at him with pity, he knew the pit was rough even fore ghouls, “Then why must you weep?”

“I’m sad because I don’t have anything to loose, and now I must live in a world where there is more life to remind me of how lonely and out of place I am.” He says, letting down his guard now that aether was that close to him.

Earth ghouls were usually very short and small, smaller than water ghouls. He was abandoned from his pack due to them thinking he was a water ghoul for his height and quick growing hair.

“That doesn’t matter now, if I had room to say amongst all of the people here than id say you fit perfectly among these misfits we call ourselves.” Aether laughed softly as he stood up, “Come, I think you would enjoy some fresher clothes.”

Earth stood up with a soft smile, “If you say so, but…I don’t even have a name..how will i belong?”

“I think I found one,” Aether says as he takes his hand and walks with him on the brick path to the ghoul quarters.

“I think Mountain is a great name,”

[mentiswarden]

Old Charles Xavier x wife reader

Summary: You and your husband are spending the night together. Everything is going great until…

In the near end of december, the mansion was surprisingly almost empty, a lot of kids had joined their families for christmas. You and Charles were seated in the big couch of the living room by the fire place. You shared a big cover and two empty cups of hot chocolate were on the coffee table. Two hours has passed since the end of the dinner and you just spent the night watching the snow falling by the window as Charles was reading his book, like always. It was your way of relaxation.

Now, your head was resting on his shoulder and his head on yours, it was all silence, both of yall almost falling asleep. You enjoyed the heat coming from him, his hand placed on your thigh and your hand on his.

Suddenly Charles violently flinched in his sleep, waking you up. You opened your eyes looking at him to see if he was okay, he was shaking and his skin had taken a blue tint, you put your hand on his to wake him up only to notice his hand was ice cold.

The worst scenario started playing in your head as you started shaking you husband, doing every thing you can to wake him up. He was very tired those last few days, what if tonight was the time? You often think about how things could end so suddenly but your husband was always here to reassure you about your fear of death. But right now you were all alone with your thoughts. You had to wake him up.

- Charles? Charles, honey wake up..

You stood up, the cover falling from your legs to the floor, standing in front of him with your hands on his shoulders starting to shake him, in an attempt to wake him up. As minutes passed you started being louder as you called his name multiple times.

After a minute that passed like an eternity, Charles opened his eyes wide as he put his hands on your wrist, your hand on his cheeks. His breath was shaky as his eyes seeked for comfort in your iris. You let out a breath as you sat next to him again.

- Thank god Charles… I thought you were gone.

He pressed his forehead to yours, a habit that you guys had for years to confort each other. He sensed your stressed thoughts and all the scenarios you made up.

- I’m so sorry dear, i didn’t meant to scare you.

A single tear of fear fell from your eyes and he immediately swiped it away. He hated it when he procured you stress or made you anxious, since the beginning of your marriage he always made sure to put your mental health before his, making sure to protect and take care of you.

- What happened? You asked

- Only a nightmare, i… i thought Erik was back to take you away from me.

As you noticed the distress in his eyes you hugged him tightly. As Charles always put your security and health first, you watched over him all those years of marriage. From his first sleepless nights, to his long and stressful days of work, you were always by his side to protect him from himself, being so hard about his work.

- I’m not leaving you honey, never.

- I’m not leaving you either Charles.

You both seeked for comfort in each others touch and spirit, not regretting a single day of those beautiful years spent together. Another night ending in each other’s protecting arms.

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Heyyy!! I’ve seen someone say that there isn’t enough Old Charles fics in here and i just thought i’d shoot my shot. Let me know if there is any grammatical mistakes or anything i’m still learning😭💗