#i'm not sure what else to tag it as so lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinystarbites · 4 months ago

Text

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

��But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

#tinywrites #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #tinywrites:accidents #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader

4K notes · View notes

starlightkyeom · 1 year ago

Text

all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)

(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)

pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism

The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind.

This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around.

Not this year.

This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it.

So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same.

The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year.

Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy.

Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks.

You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.”

“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.

“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.

“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown.

“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?”

“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”

“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist.

You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.

That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately.

Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine.

You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere.

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.

“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects.

“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.

“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists.

“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen.

Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.

“Where are you going?” Jun asks.

“Oh, just back to my room to get something,”

It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.

When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.

His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.”

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.

“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.

“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.

“Not alone,” he persists.

“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder.

“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.

“So, what?” you press.

“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.

“How should I be?” you ask.

“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.

“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“I know,” he admits.

“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.”

“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”

“This was a mistake,” you say.

“Talking to me?” he asks.

“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.”

With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone.

You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be.

“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.

“I’ll come,” you offer.

“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.

“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.

“Sure,” you agree.

When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.

“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.

One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge.

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.

“No,” Wonwoo answers simply.

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”

“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” you say as you pay.

“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.

You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks.

“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.

“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises.

“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.

“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”

“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.”

“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.

“Because it still hurts,” you plead.

“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.

Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.

It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker.

It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on.

Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks.

“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.”

“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.

“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”

“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused.

“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Wonwoo says.

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”

“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you.

Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?

“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.

“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.

“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t.

“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.

“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”

“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.”

Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.

“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share.

“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.”

“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks. Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?

“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.”

“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.

“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.

Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.”

“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.”

“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.

“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.

“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.

“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?”

Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.”

Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?

New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.

When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.

It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area.

“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.

“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.

“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” you repeat.

“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.

“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.

“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.

“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.”

“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing.

“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says.

“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”

“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation.

“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.

“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.

“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”

“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.

“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”

“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.

After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.

The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)

Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.

“Here,” he says.

You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”

“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.

The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time.

Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins.

There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well.

When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.

“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response.

When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.

Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside.

“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him.

“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.

“I was a little surprised,” he admits.

“Me too,” you agree.

He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.

Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left.

“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.

“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?”

“We probably should talk,” you say.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away.

You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.”

Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him.

It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right.

“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin.

You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.

“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him.

His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss.

“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine.

He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.”

You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.”

There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”

You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.”

“Good,” he says.

You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture.

“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg.

“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.

In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.

“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.

“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”

He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?”

You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.

It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive.

Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.”

It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.

“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath.

“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out.

For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)

“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.

“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.”

“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest.

You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body.

It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down.

“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment.

“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.

It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little

“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters.

He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.”

“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say.

That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”

“No,” you answer.

“I haven’t either,” he admits.

“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him.

“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.

“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.

“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.

“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.

This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.

He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans.

You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment.

“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out.

“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.

And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream.

You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans.

“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”

“Jesus,” he groans.

Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him.

“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out.

“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers.

His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care.

It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty.

“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question.

It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.

“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says.

“We’re already here,” you point out.

“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back.

“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder.

He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.”

Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded.

“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says.

So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.

“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up.

“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles.

“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says.

“And?” you prompt.

He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”

“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke.

You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”

It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him.

“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”

“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe.

“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says.

“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say.

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you.

“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say.

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”

He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke.

“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos.

“Me too,” you agree.

It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace.

this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕

3K notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 5 months ago

Text

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

#& [it might be 5am but i'll still see if i can draw some] trackpad homemade reacts. inhales & hands to head/face x9 then walking off #site giving pretty random Suggested assortment there where i was like oh right sure. prob not tumblr keywords captures lmaooo #(plus happened to have it open in firefox) but my god Not the scapegoated literal seers lmfao. whoooo. my god #also it was just really good anyways like right nice. damn #the (queerrr) seerrr the perceiverrr the truth tellerrr the ruinerrr the scapegoat be-errr the internalizerrr the neurodivergerrr #& now i Know there is 0% chance ppl weren't putting ''always a gay cousin or it's you (avuncular edition)'' in that thing #family tree design not even leaving space for the hypothetical kids of this relative we mostly pretend is nonexistent hmm #also that necessarily. it's giving all intents & purposes Disability abt a dozen ways & it's saying [accept that] vs [we'd better fix him]#you don't cite said [it's giving disability] as part of the We All Hate The Horrible Little Freak scapegoating justification & then be like #''actually we don't have to do that anymore b/c he's sooo normal :)'' or not if you're serious about [don't scapegoat your family] anyways #which like oh ok they Are serious so The Weirdo's scapegoating / casting out / lack of support Isn't justified #so he's still weird & you just gotta get over that b/c otherwise. bye. having a natural rat affinity is such a slay btw #& we've all been there like ''you NEVER want two scapegoats talking it's Over if they do'' + littlest kid is like um. they're the best #plankton voice Correct! inhale i'm so impressed like. getting to go ''finally someone Normal'' (serious abt letting someone Be Weird(tm))#which also always counts as like mm hard time suggesting someone's Not queer & also autistic for a start lmao. an award #adding in suggested layers like talking to oneself; talking Oddly / w difficulty; physical uncoordination; rituals ; acting; animal friend #the layer of ''& all that's fine? like?'' again rather than him ever suppressing or even changing it so far as it's suggested #besides that it's observed as Weird like but so? or else what? nonrhetorical: hostility / rescinded support & driving someone off is what?#& that Truth like the [worse treatment / exclusion / scapegoat] oft recipe for someone giving the support they're not getting themself #again Never let the [ppl both experiencing this] talk oh it's So over. or the child who's all i like family support & kindness actuallyy...#obviously also like the complete opposite of billions. knowing what they're about & letting this Just As Beloved crucial guy be So Weird #but billions Also [hmm feels right for our scapegoated guy to Perceive / Tell Truths / openly want/need & then be hurt] now get his ass #anyway [guy who could always go way on could go way on but only has thirty tags & it's 6am & i still mean to try some drawing] voice #remarkable amt of So True & ''it feels like ppl on the same page w/exactly what they're doing are all behind this''#remarkable amount of concentrated My God That Is So A Slay located in bruno all at once. what a gift #sticking to ''sometimes someone In Your Group is Weird. Disabled. deal'' firmly enough there's no ;) oh u can bet we'll Fix Him in the end #everyone always assumes the worst so....me when i'm [always as a kid yearning for Living In Secret Passages]. emile gtmpota?#oh congrats to whatever rando who will be having his dramatic gay reunion w/bruno just out of frame obviously. i perceive #now imagine if That rando was....emile gtmpota! what a crossover event. haunting4haunting. do i have enough tags for this lmao. yea #& having 1 more tag to say: as though the [endless serving] isn't enough bruno's also as close to gender envy as it gets. incl rats; sure

5 notes · View notes

espinosaurusrexex · 8 months ago

Text

Celeste

FallenAngel!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader AU

summary: Heaven is not what they tell you. The celestials don’t live in harmony and the devil is not as far as you might think. He’s vicious in his ways to seduce every being - makes even the mighty fall from grace. And one of them happens to be your guardian angel. When James is banished from the heavens, he is forced to amend his sins on earth. What did he do wrong, you might ask? Well, he fell for the one he watched over.

a/n: I thought I’ve read a FallenAngel!Bucky fic on here before. But I couldn’t find it. So please, if you know it, tag me. Anyway, this is my take on the au.

word count: 20.3k (good lord, someone take my computer away)

warnings: this might offend some people (remember this is my fantasy world - I don’t know much about angels and the whole shebang), soulmate trope, the devil, also God?, jealousy/envy, mentions of killing and abuse, banishment and punishments, he falls first (literally lmao), fluff and wholesomeness, agony, angst (of course, with happy end!), smut (wingplay, Bucky‘s got heavenly dick, Virgin!Bucky, size kink, cum play) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

all image credit goes to @animarvelita on TikTok (there's more at the end)

James.

Wake up, James.

Wake up!

The wind hits his lashes before he opens his eyes. He’s falling. He’s falling and there’s nothing he can do.

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s eerie outside, you note as your towel glides over the countertop. The entire window of the diner displays dark clouds. Dark clouds that will soon bring the heavy rain Old Lee has been mumbling about for days now.

Not too many people believe what the crazy farmer says but you can’t help but notice how much he really understands of the world.

Nick hits the little golden bell by the serving hatch and you take the fresh sandwiches to a table by the door.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“We’re good, honey.”

You just nod as your eyes stay focused on the small parking lot outside. You wipe your hands on your apron and return to the counter when the first drop of rain hits the window pane.

❁ ❁ ❁

Branches are aching beneath his weight when he crashes through the trees. A deep thud echoes in the woods as his body hits the ground. It’s raining.

Every tragedy needs rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

"Are you alright, dear?" Peggy, one of the regulars, a wise old lady, asks and points to your hand that's settled above your chest.

You clear your throat. "I'm fine. Just a frog in my throat." You nod with a tight smile. Something seems to have knocked the air out of your lungs. But you've been feeling like you are coming down with something for a few days now.

"Must be the weather," Howard comment's next to Peggy, and his newspaper crumbles beneath his touch.

You turn and refill their coffee mugs. "Yeah... must be." But you can't shake the feeling it has brought to you.

"It's always the weather." Peggy nods before the door to the diner opens and Old Lee enters, his muddy boots dirtying the checkered floors. You scrunch your nose. You'd be the one cleaning that up later, Scott surely won't do it.

"This ain't a normal April storm, folks." His hat tips before he sits at the counter in front of you. "You look like you’ve been trampled by a cow.”

"It's just the weather," you say and place a cup of hot tea in front of him. That's just Stan: brutally honest and strangely right about everything.

❁ ❁ ❁

Pain is strange. His feet get caught in the thorned bushes. Golden blood is the only evidence of his path.

And it’s slowly turning black.

❁ ❁ ❁

The storm outside intensifies, the rain hammering against the diner's windows with an unrelenting force. Old Lee's words linger in the air, stirring a sense of unease among the patrons. You glance outside, noticing the darkness creeping in as if it's swallowing everything in its path.

A shiver runs down your back as you remember how much Pietro would have loved this storm. Your mind drifts back to the memory of him. He always found solace in the chaos of nature, seeing beauty even in the fiercest storms.

But he's is gone now, lost to you in a way that is irreversible. The ache in your chest intensifies as you try to push away the memories, focusing instead on your tasks at hand.

Stan’s voice is low and gravelly when he murmurs again. "You can't outrun the storm, kid. It's coming for all of us, whether we're ready or not."

His words are chilling, but you shake it off, forcing a smile as you refill his tea.

"We'll weather this storm just like we always do." Peggy chimes in as her hand lands on yours with her calming touch. But your heart is hammering in your chest, still. Something feels off. As if a piece fell out of place, waiting to be discovered, and raving to make a mess.

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s cold and muddy here, no comfort in sight. But he’ll venture on until he reaches you. His soul is pulled to your very presence.

He needs to find you. Needs to amend his wrongs. Though is it really wrong to love?

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s dark out when you hang your apron in your locker and wave a short goodbye to Nick. Pulling your coat tightly around you in an attempt to brace yourself for the wind, you step outside into the deluge. The rain lashes against your skin, soaking you to the bone on your walk through deserted streets and cold concrete.

You sigh thinking about everyone that made it home dry, probably sitting in their beds right now, watching the rain roll down their window pane with a hot cup of cocoa in hand.

But that seems to postpone itself, you realize as you abruptly halt. You look around. This isn’t your usual route home. But something pulled you off your intended path and toward an unfamiliar alleyway. Confusion mingles with a strange sense of anticipation as you find yourself drawn deeper into the darkness.

Your head is screaming at you. This is dangerous. You shouldn’t be doing this. Why are your feet moving anyway?

And then you see it. Or rather... him?

A figure stands at the end of the alley, obscured by shadows and rain, but there's something about him that sets your heart racing.

"Hello?" you call out tentatively, your voice barely audible over the storm. You hate how weak you sound.

He steps forward into the dim light, his features illuminated by a flickering streetlamp. Dark hair and a strong yaw, wide muscular shoulders, his arms are adorned by silver cuffs. His whole being is well over six feet. But he seems even taller as something wide reaches from behind him, almost hugging his shoulders and prodding up towards the sky. He steps forward again and your breath hitches in your throat when you can finally make out the grey feathery wings standing from behind his back.

But you don’t run. You don’t even stumble back. Your feet are frozen to the ground. Then his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he says, his voice almost like a whisper to the wind. Calling and marvelous.

Everything inside you tells your how absurd this situation is. How fast you should be running anywhere but here right now. But the way your heart races doesn’t feel like fear. In fact, you’re not even scared. More fascinated, awestruck, intrigued. You know he wont hurt you.

“I don’t know you.” You manage to stammer, your eyes still locked with his. The tension overwhelming and electrifying all at once.

“That should be obvious.” He points to his wings smiling amused, a smile that you know holds a universe of secrets and promises. You want to learn them all, you catch yourself thinking as your eyes slip to his lips.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand,” he replies and it’s the first time his wings move behind him. “Just trust that we are connected in ways you cannot even begin to imagine.”

“Well?” You clear your throat and cross your arms in front of your chest, relieved your body is able to move again, though the pose feels rather awkward. “Why are you here?”

He seems shocked for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected you to play along so fast. And, to be honest, neither did you... at least a little.

“I need to...” His mouth falls shut again and he turns his head down to the side, shoulders heaving. “I guess I need a place to stay.”

“With me?” That’s insane. You know it is. But why does it not surprise you?

He nods, you shake your head. “I cant just accommodate a...” You gesture to him and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Angel.”

“Right, of course.” You chuckle as you scan his body again. Only now do you see the torn clothes and bloody feet. Drenched through and through.

You sigh. “I don’t even know your name...”

His eyes are sparkling, the smallest of twitches making him look a little softer, tangible even. You’re not afraid of him. And it messes with your head. You should be scared, right? But all there is in your body is the steady tingle pinging from your heart back to your stomach.

“It’s James.” His smile is handsome when he reaches out his hands, offering you a better look to his toned arms.

Whywhywhy? “Alright.”

❁ ❁ ❁

James looks out of place in your rather small living room. His size dwarves every piece of furniture carefully picked out to make your house a home. He makes it look like a doll house just by standing in it.

But he doesn’t seem to care. James ducks when he passes through the door and you watch his feathers ruffle as they press themselves to his back in order to fit through.

You’re not sure what to do. Never in your life did you think you would end up in a situation like this. There is no protocol for hosting celestial beings. Though a how to angel dinner party guide would come in handy now. Did he even eat?

Something must be wrong with you. You let a total stranger into your house, even though your track record of people skills is not exactly the best. One that is borderline freakishly tall and has wings. Wings that look soft and beautiful. But strong and kind of intimidating as well. But why does he feel so safe?

“You’re staring.” James notes and a handsome grin spreads across his face.

“I’m not really used to having angels in my house to be honest.” The sarcasm is dripping from your tone in subtle undertones. But James seems to enjoy it. “Why are you here? On earth... I mean.”

He stares at the ceiling and his wings sag a little. “I have a mission, dearest.” He tells and his eyes meet yours. They’re deep blue and stormy - just like the sky. You can see yourself falling lost in them. His presence is all-consuming, making you shiver. It reminds you that the both of you are drenched from the rain. A puddle has formed around your feet and James’s wings guide the water droplets to your hardwood floor in two perfect circles. His hair is curling at the ends, in the nape of his neck and the water is also running down his throat, pooling in the remains of his shirt.

“What mission?”

“I cannot tell you yet.”

You nod, even though you don’t understand. But you don’t want to pressure him. “Do you need a shower? Or... clean clothes?” The second you ask you feel stupid. It’s silly right? Why shouldn’t angels shower?

Then again, the way he looks at you is one of surprise. “Yes, that would be good.”

“Good. Yes.” With a sigh you flee through the hallway to your room in search for some clothes.

❁ ❁ ❁

A shower. James is giddy. Human things have always excited him. He has been watching from the heavens for eons, never truly experienced them quite like this. But he’s intrigued. Especially when you offer them to him like he’s not an intruder in your life.

If things were different, you would never know he even existed. But James is guilty of happiness that he gets to meet you in person.

Up close, you’re even more perfect. You smell nice, your home feels cozier than anything he’s ever experienced, and your voice sounds just a sliver more comforting when its directed at him.

He is smiling like a fool, standing in your living room - the one he knows by heart but so much more personal now. And when you return to him with a pile of grey cloth, his heart skips a beat. You bring him the familiar warmth that made him fall in the first place. But having you within an arm’s length makes all of it feel worth it.

There is not an ounce of regret in him for being here.

Electricity shoots up his arm when you touch his hand. It’s cold and wet - he immediately vows to always keep you warm from now on - makes it his purpose to have you be comfortable for the rest of your life.

You lead him to the bathroom, grinning sheepishly when you gesture toward your shower.

“It might be a tight squeeze.” You point at the glass surrounding your bathtub. “But it’s all I can offer.”

“It will do just fine.” He reassures you.

“I will leave you to it then.” James is confused.

“Are you not staying?”

“Sorry?”

“To help me.”

“Help you... shower?” There is hesitance in your tone, but James truly doesn’t know how to turn the thing on.

“Well, yes.”

“I...” Your eyes are big, staring up at him through surprise and nervousness. “I don’t want to intrude. Give you some privacy to- oh.”

His clothes are already on the floor. He knows this much. Shower is something one does naked. But you seem to be shocked when his whole body is revealed to you. Do you like it? James is sure he looks as close to a human as a person with wings can. So why are you still staring at his stomach?

His eyes catch yours as they move a little lower, your eyebrows raising just that much higher and a smirk places itself on his face. So, you do like what you see. He confirms silently. Not that he particularly knows why. He never noticed people by their bodies - only their soul, because that is the important thing - the one that never changes.

And yours is the most enchanting of them all.

❁ ❁ ❁

You watch as James sit’s down on the opposite end of the sofa. He’s declined every offer you have made for him to feel a little more welcome. But he seems content. His smile hasn’t left his lips ever since you led him to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but notice his body when he revealed it all to you. It’s like every inch of him is carved by the gods. He looks soft in the right parts, strong enough not to be skinny with his height. And his male parts. Well, they look more than satisfactory.

You felt like a pervert staring him up and down while he stood there with this kind of proud innocence to him, wondering if he understood how proud he could be of his looks. There is so much you don’t know about him. It’s not like you haven’t talked.

You have. But he speaks in riddles.

“You are staring again.” James notes and you immediately snap your head elsewhere.

“I’m just figuring this situation out, I guess.”

He smiles encouragingly. “You can ask questions. I imagine you’ve been eager to know more.”

You exhale long, taking courage to look him in the eyes. “And you will answer all of them honestly?”

“Honestly, yes.” His teeth find his bottom lip and you squeeze your thighs together. “I cannot promise to answer them all.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you think of the first thing you could ask him. Maybe you should get the most obvious one out of the way. Maybe you should ask him more about himself, though you’re not sure how personal he can get if he spent his entire life in heaven. You just assume there is too much to do to pursue actual hobbies and such.

“Is there a God?”

“Starting with the light questions, I see.” You just look at him with intrigue. Already lining up all the other questions no-one else in this world has the opportunity to have answered. James sighs and then nods. “Yes, God exists.”

“Do you know God?”

He hesitates, his eyes fleeting to the end of the room and then back to you. “Yes.”

“Why did that answer take you so long?”

His jaw tenses and his eyes find the floor as if he was cursing himself for offering this situation. But then again, you haven’t heard him cuss once. Maybe you’re wrong. “It was under rather... unfortunate circumstances.”

You nod as if you understand. But you can only imagine. “So, he’s like the big boss, only getting involved when things escalate?”

James looks caught, his wings draw in closer. After a moment, he clears his throat and his feathers ruffle with a small shake. “First of all, it’s she/they. And second, ... I guess you could say that, yes.”

“I knew it.” You grin as the pride washes over you at this information. “Why did she never correct us?”

“Let’s just say mankind doesn’t have a great track record of enforcing things that go against their believe... Not that it would be believable if someone told the story of meeting an angel who told them God is a woman.”

“Fair point. That person would have probably been burnt alive.” You nod again, crossing your legs and turning to him on the sofa. James takes a moment to rake his eyes over your body, making you feel tingles all over. You clear your throat. “Speaking of torture... Why do we have war and world hunger?”

“Please do not take this the wrong way. Those are issues that very much concern God or anyone that want’s the best for her people, but she’s busy. She manages everything else that has gone south since.”

“Since what?” You partly enjoy the way James talks to you as if you are an insider, but you only understand half of what he’s saying.

“Since she and Lucifer had a big fallout.” He shrugs, but it just adds to your confusion.

“I’m not following.”

He rolls his eyes as if it were your fault you don’t know about this supernatural fight. “They had a disagreement. Lucifer’s response to God’s proposal was an ill-conceived frivolity which ended up becoming the patriarchy.”

To say you’re stunned is a serious understatement. “You’re telling me the devil threw a tamper tantrum and that’s why we have inequality? How did he even do that?”

James shakes his head. “...Yes. The trial is still in progress. But it may be calming to know that we have not figured out exactly how he convinced an entire species of males being the stronger part of it.”

“No, James. It is not calming to know.” You sigh and watch as he clasps his hands in his lap, his cuffs glistening in the lamplight. God, they’re big. You immediately scold yourself for thinking this, feeling weirds as the words of your mother echo in your head ‘Don’t you dare use God’s name in vain’. “What exactly has God done since then?”

The smile returns to his face and you readjust yourself on the sofa. “Oh, you wouldn’t want to know how this world would look if she hadn’t kept busy with sorting it.”

Your nose wrinkles in a frown, as you check the points off in your head. “I really don’t think it can get that much worse. Climate change, mass genocides, what else could there be?” You nod at each one just as James lifts up his fingers and opens his mouth as if he is starting to count.

But you stop him. “Please don’t.”

“Yes, that is probably for the best.”

It is silent for a moment as you try to process all the information you have just attained. It is a rather weird feeling. Knowing you know what no-one else on earth does and not being able to tell. Knowing there will be no-one believing you.

You sigh when your head starts spinning from how crazy this day has been. James seems to be rather relaxed considering he barely knows you. His dark hair falls around his face perfectly, the back of it forming a cute curl in the nape of his neck and your fingers itch to touch it.

But you refrain, reminding yourself that he is a stranger - and an angel. Beside the fact that he has not once reached out to you, just randomly touching his hair would probably be the weirdest thing to do right now.

“Can I ask you something?” He suddenly breaks the silence and you shoot a thank you to the sky for saving yourself from going down the mental rabbit hole of how soft his hair looks.

“Yes.”

“Why did you take me in?” James’s eyes are boring into yours so innocently. If it weren’t for the giant wings on his back, he would almost look like a normal clueless and incredibly cute guy. And yet he just revealed outerworldly gossip as if you were discussing the latest celebrity TMZ.

“I-“ you trail off, thinking about it for a while. You aren’t sure how much you can tell him. But James has been genuine from the start. It wold only be fair to do the same. “I felt like you needed me.”

A weird feeling takes over your body suddenly. Like a warm flush rushing through you. James fidgets in your peripheral and nods in understanding. “I did. I do.”

It’s like the reality of it all hits you like brick when a noise sounds from outside and his wings twitch, pushing over a pile of books on the cupboard behind the sofa. This is not normal, something tells you, and yet your stomach flutters in a way that feels a lot like butterflies. Everything about James is fascinating to you. You constantly fight the urge to reach out and brush your fingertips over every part of him. And for some reason, your mind tries to tell you that he would let you.

“Why are you really here, James?” You voice is only a whisper when the rattling outside subsides. It’s probably a raccoon or something. But James looks a little nervous all of a sudden.

“I’m afraid that is one thing I cannot tell you, love.”

You sigh. “I guess... I just want to help. Having you stay here doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There has got to be something you need to do.”

“That is very kind of you. I admire your bravery and openness.” His lips spread into a smile, his hand lifting from his lap as if he is about to place it on yours, but his fingers only strech and land back on the sofa between you. “But to be truthful, even if I knew what I had to do, I am not sure wether I would do it or not”

So he is a little deviant. You smile at the small observation. Maybe it’s the reason he is here in the first place. But you feel like you have asked James enough for tonight. Just on cue, a yawn escapes your lips.

“You should rest. It has been a long day.”

You nod, rubbing your eyes and rising from the soft cushions. “I have a spare bedroom. You can sleep there.”

“That is fine. I do not sleep.” James shakes his head as he rises with you out of curtesy. With his hands clasped in front of him he looks like a goth painting.

“What? Never?”

“I am not human, dearest. My body attains energy in different ways.” You shudder again, blaming it on your sleepiness as you rub your arms when another yawn escapes you.

“Maybe you can tell me about it tomorrow. I am really tired.”

“I will be watching over you.” Your name passes his lips like a song, sending another shiver through you. What the hell is the matter with you. You huff as you catch yourself again. It really never occurred to you how often you referenced to the supernatural... “Take all the rest you can get.”

“Good night, James.” You nod and wave awkwardly.

“Good night.”

You know James’s eyes are only you until you disappear into the hallway. But you cant help but feel safely watched over with him around.

❁ ❁ ❁

They will find him, and they will send him further from you than he ever was.

❁ ❁ ❁

James hates the days you have to leave for work. He watches you with a sense of longing and resignation, knowing that he must find a way to navigate this separation once again. Though it is necessary he find a way to dodge the inevitable.

It’s the vexing thing about the celestial kingdom. They always leave one to find the laws on their journey. There is no book he could read on earth that could help him here. But he has seen the repercussions of disobedience, felt the weight of his transgressions bearing down on him like a heavy chain.

And yet, as he watches you prepare to leave for work, a sense of desperation gnaws at him from within. He wants to reach out, to beg you to stay, to keep you safe from whatever dangers may lurk beyond the safety of your home.

But he knows he can't. He's bound by duty, by the laws of God that dictate his every move. And so, with a heavy heart, he watches silently as you gather your things and head out the door, leaving him alone once more.

As the door closes behind you, James is left with nothing but the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance. He knows he should use this time wisely, to prepare for whatever trials may lie ahead, but his thoughts are consumed by you, by the overwhelming need to protect you at all costs.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s and angel in your home. And he’s so freaking attractive, it’s unfair.

It has been a week since you found James. And despite the incredibly irrational decisions of yours to invite him into your home, nothing bad has happened to you. Sure, the first night you might have dreamt about him. He’s everything your fantasy books described an more. And you couldn’t help but let that tiny romantic sliver of you hope for the more.

But James is more pious than any catholic boarding school kid you’ve ever met.

He seems to enjoy a good joke and he’s quite confident. But he never once touched you. And while that should not be one of your first concerns, considering he’s a stranger and an angel, something inside you tells you he’s holding back.

He never even flinches when you reach out to him. And the longing stares he sends your way make you shiver with anticipation. Yet there is no attempt to ever pull you in - even though you are so sure you were sending signals.

Maybe there are no signals in heaven. What are you even saying? Of course there are no signals in heaven. You don’t even believe dating exists up there.

“Yo, whaddup with ya today? I’ve been calling your name for a solid minute.”

“Sorry. Feeling a little off today,” you mumble to Nick and retrieve the food waiting in the serving hatch.

“You can’t go home. I don’t wanna serve alone today.”

“Scott, there’s literally no-one here.” You gesture toward the few people sitting in their booths and sigh. “Besides, I never said I was going home.”

“Don’t get mad. You barely texted me back this week. What’s so awesome about your home when I’m not there with you?” You feel the heat rising to your head at Scott’s comment. “You’d think she’d call me if she ever needed to hide something.” He mumbles to Nick who just laughs and flips a pancake.

You turn to him with your fists by your side. “The weather is weird and cold, can’t I need a little down time?”

“Not from me!” Scott looks baffled. He’s your friend, and yes, you had other things to worry about than be on your phone this week. But you also knew he wouldn’t understand.

“You’re being a real pain in my ass today, Scotty.”

“Good, so everything’s back to normal then.”

You throw a towel in his face. “Shut up.”

“Cut it out, you two, there’s customers.”

Scott resumes to the back, effectively dodging his work and leaving you to serve the new customer. But your breath hitches in your throat when you look up from the counter.

James is standing in the door, already drawing looks of attention from a few people. He’s smiling back at them, even waving at a child before his eyes meet yours and your heart sets off again. It seems to always do that when he’s close.

You rush toward him, wrapping your fingers around his cuffed wrist and he audibly exhales.

“You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“Because-“ you lean in closer and James bows down to get his face to your level. “You’re and angel.” You mutter under your breath and the sexy smile returns to his perfect lips.

“And how would they know that?” His eyebrow raises.

“You-“ you lean back, examining his shoulders - only then noticing that his wings are not there anymore. “How?”

“I only show myself to truly important people.” He winks and you stumble back a little, his sudden boldness making your legs feel like jello.

“What are you doing here?”

James looks around the diner as though he has not planned this far. His eyes swerve to the counter and then back to you. “I want to watch you work. I enjoy spending time with you.”

“But you can’t be here without ordering.”

“Then I will oder.”

“You don’t eat, James. Do you even have money?”

That seems to surprise him. “No.” You shake your head and look at the tiled floor. James’s wrist is still wrapped in your hand but there is no attempt to hold you. So you drop it. Why did he even come here when he won’t touch you?

“Please, beautiful. Let me stay.” His eyes are genuine, his lips purse in a plea. All you can think about is how weirdly lucky you are that this Adonis of a being chose you for his quest.

You bite your lip and watch him shudder. “Alright. Just sit by the counter and try to be inconspicuous.”

His smile spreads wide. “I’ll be as invisible as the air you breathe.”

You exhale and get back to work but unfortunately, his promise doesn’t last long. Before you know it, Peggy has chosen the seat right beside James. She’s leaning over to him at the counter and Howard just sits beside them with his newspaper in hand - as always. James seems just as invested in the conversation as Peggy and as you steal glances over to the pair of them, insistently hoping he won’t spill about his identity, you catch James’s eyes lingering on you.

“You are a fine young man, James.” Peggy's hand lands on his, tapping it in a grandmotherly manor, though her eyes are glinting with something akin to longing. She whispers something into his ear you cant make out and James’s eyes shoot to yours, his face tinting rouge from one ear to the other.

“And you are a remarkable lady, Peggy,” he clears his throat, his mind seemingly wandering elsewhere. “You remind me of a girl a friend of mine was in love with once.”

“Then he must have been the happiest man to ever live.”

Peggy’s hands tremble when she reaches for her cup of tea, her red lipstick taint the white porcelain as James watches her movements with a soft stare. He looks so protective of her, it makes your insides tingle. “He truly is, though he seems like he has forgotten about it lately. Is this your husband?” He gestures to Howard, who just slams the newspaper down in front of him, blank eyes staring at James while Peggy laughs and waves her hand dismissively.

“This rascal?” She presses her hand to her chest as she tries to calm down. “No, dear. My husband died a long tome ago.” She smiles warmly, floating in melancholy when she continues, “I never loved another man since. He was a heaven sent. Strong, kind, always worked towards the greater good... and his looks were to die for, too.” She winks and James chuckles.

“Oh I wish a love like that to everyone. Promise me something, James.”

“Anything.”

“If your find it, never let it go.” Her hand clasps around his biceps, her tone a motherly sternness laced with affection.

James eyes you again and it feels as if the air is shifting with tension. “My word is in God’s name, Peggy.”

❁ ❁ ❁

James feels the repercussions of his being on earth stronger every day. In heaven, he was miserable because he had to watch you live your life without him. On earth, he’s in agony because he knows, if he ever were to touch you, he would cease to exist.

It’s slanted. He gave up everything coming here and despite the fact that his wings stopped working the second he fell from the sky, he categorizes the uncertainty eating away at him as even worse. Hanging in limbo is more troubling than actually going to hell, he is sure of it.

He watches you move about your house with the same longing look torturing his features since he realized how much he needed you. It’s laughable how dependent on you he has become. While you go about your life with the minor change of having a roommate, James despises the unforgeable distance heaven has created between you.

You are friendly with him - you are friendly with everyone. James would even go as far as to say that you two are friends by now. But he wants so much more. So much more he cant tell you because even if you did know about his feelings, there is nothing either of you could do about it.

James sighs standing from the sofa, ducking his head when he passes through the doorway to you. You never questions when he just follows you around. The soul bond probably keeping the curiosity at bay if it feels anything like his experience. It feels good for no explicit reason.

You sort some bowls in your cabinet as he stands behind you, offering to place the ones higher up so you don’t have to struggle too much. “What’s heaven like, James?” You ask innocently through your movements. “Are there pearly gates and fluffy clouds?”

James loves when you say his name. It makes him feel closer to you than ever before. In a way, he equates it with your touch. Just as his saying your name is his way of reaching out to you.

“More like endless paperwork and celestial coffee breaks.” Coffee breaks. He learned about those a while ago and he loves the concept. “But hey, the views are to die for.” He gets lost in your eyes, remembering how much more distant they felt when he was watching from above and he is thankful to be this close to you now.

You smile smugly, and thats when the heart race sets in again. He’s sure you feel it too. Because your eyes avert and your hand places itself atop your chest.

You think something is wrong with you, he just knows it. It’s like the time you watched hours on hours of Gray’s Anatomy and then proceeded to research yourself into a frenzy about the sicknesses you might suffer. But James made sure then that there was not even a paper cut compromising you and he will do the same now, too.

He is desperate to tell you what it is you feel, that there is not much you can do and that he feels it ten times worse because he hates to see you suffer. But he needs to be careful about how much he reveals to you.

“Oh my god, I’m getting paranoid,” you mutter to yourself and James smirks at your small slip up. He has noticed how you try to minimize your references in curses. It’s cute, really, because he knows how much you used to do it. It’s a little bit amusing, the small deviant trait of yours making him feel like he has found something in common with you and he’s almost proud of it.

You collect yourself, quickly, breathing in deeply and then turning around to him. “I have to run some errands today.”

“Great, where are we going?” James asks with eagerness. Car rides excite him. He has always found them fascinating, but actually being in one is a whole new experience.

You bite your lip and for once, James does not feel the familiar tingle in his stomach when you do so. There is sadness sitting in your eyes when you answer him. “Actually...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lip just for your teeth to dig into it again and an unfamiliar tightness travels through James’s body. “It is something I need to do by myself today. I hope that is okay.”

The angel nods vigorously, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. “Yes of course. I will leave you to it alone.” He steadies himself on the door frame and then heads to the living room where he grabs a book and settles on your window sill to look occupied.

“It is nothing personal, James.” Your head dips from the doorway and he looks up. “It's just... it would be weird for you to be there.”

“I understand.” The way he adds your name to his answer makes him sick. But his body is feeling weird, not showing him the familiar signs of jealousy or anger he knows. It feels... warm and uncomfortable.

“I will be back soon.” Your voice travels through the hallway and your footsteps along with it. James stares at the empty doorway for a while, his eyes shooting down to the book when you suddenly reappear. “Do you want anything from the store?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.”

And then the door falls shut. But before James can get consumed by his loneliness, he puts the books down - something about an ice breaker - and heads outside to follow you.

❁ ❁ ❁

But earth can be a lonely place. At least hell will welcome you with warmth.

❁ ❁ ❁

You didn’t lie. You were at the store. But now that you’re treading on the small path towards the grey cemetery walls, James feels the fear spread through his body like a slow and painful death.

He’s hiding behind the trees closing around the park, watching you as you halt before a simple headstone. He can feel your mourning deep within his heart, tugging, yanking, pulling on the tiny strings that sting so effectively. His temple leans against the rough bark as his eyes trace your slow movements. You place a small bouquet of flowers on the soil before the engraved letters, resting your forehead on the gold stone.

He can’t see it completely, but he knows you’re crying. You always do. Everything within him screams to reach out to you, to hold you and sway you until the world feels less taunting, but he knows how difficult it could make things.

So, instead, he remains hidden, a silent sentinel in the shadows bearing witness to your sorrow from afar. He feels the weight of your tears as if they were his own, each drop a dagger to his soul and a reminder of the distance that separates him from you.

And yet, even in the midst of your pain, there is a flicker of something else - resilience, determination, a quiet strength that refuses to be extinguished. It’s a testament to your spirit, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume you both.

As you linger before the headstone, lost in your memories and your grief, James feels a surge of admiration swell within him. Despite the pain you carry, you continue to preserve.

“It’s really a shame you never have the balls to comfort her.” A voice whispers in his ear and James shoots around to be met with a redhead whose eyes stare daringly up at him. “Then again... I guess it would be kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

“What are you doing here, Wanda?” All angels are made weary of Lucifer’s spawn. They are vicious and manipulating, carrying the pits of hell to places that least expect them and watch it all go up in flames as they stand laughing on the sidelines.

James knows the demon standing before him. More than once have their paths crossed throughout time, but he is surprised to see her every time anew. He refuses to show any sign of weakness in her presence, knowing that to do so would only invite further manipulation.

Wanda chuckles darkly, her laughter echoing through the trees. “Oh, nothing much,” she muses with a wicked grin, pacing around James to take a closer look at him. “Just though I’d remind you of what you’re missing out on by playing the good little guardian angel. But who knows... maybe one of these days, you’ll finally grow a spine and take what you want.”

James clenches his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Wanda’s relentless provocation. He knows better than to let her under his skin, but the demon’s words cut deep, striking at the heart of his insecurities. He feels the surge of frustration rising within him as his fists clench by his sides, the weight of his silver cuffs pressing against his wrists like chains. “I can’t,” he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I can’t”

Wanda’s gaze narrows as her arms cross in front of her chest. “Can’t or won’t?” She counters, her voice tingling with an unspoken dare.

James hesitates, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I... I don't know," he admits finally. "But it doesn't matter. My duty lies with heaven, with protecting her. I can’t do that when I’m lost in the in-between.”

Wanda's eyes glitter with amusement as she takes a step closer, closing the distance between them with an unnerving grace. "And what if heaven isn't where you belong?" she whispers in a seductive purr as her fingers flick against his cuffs. The sound travels through the trees, making you turn and look around you. "What if your heart longs for something more, something... forbidden?"

A shiver runs down his spine, a sudden realization dawning within James. For so long, he has clung to the safety of his celestial duties, fearing the consequences of straying from the path laid out before him. But now, as he stands face to face with the embodiment of temptation itself again, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, heaven is not the place where he can truly flourish.

“I don’t trust you, Wanda.” He admits genuinely, though the possibility of her words holding truth gnaws on his very soul.

“You shouldn’t.” She smirks devilishly, eyes flashing in a short glimmer of red and evil. “There will be consequences to disobeying celestial rules. But you will never find out if a life free of them would be more fulfilling to you if you don’t try.” She winks, setting uncertainty free within him. “Find me when you have made the right choice.”

As he watches Wanda disappear into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts, James knows that he is standing at a crossroads—one that would determine the course of his destiny for eternity. And though the path ahead is uncertain and fraught with peril, he can't help but feel a glimmer of hope stir within him, a whisper of possibility that promises a future filled with love, and happiness, and the chance to finally be as close to you as he has always wished for.

❁ ❁ ❁

The night has broken over your small town by now. James has made it back with a conflicted heart before you came home from your errands. He knows you notice his silence as he normally enjoys to talk a lot to you. But you don’t say anything.

He is just sitting quietly in the kitchen as he watches you make a cup of tea, wondering what it tastes like right before frowning at how scared he is to try a cup of hot water just because he doesn’t know what it would do to him.

Wanda’s words come back to the forefront of his mind and the unease she instilled within his heart right alongside it. He has been longing to reach out to you for so long, has wanted to touch and comfort you in so many ways his mind began to spin. Especially after days like this, when you went to visit your brother’s grave. You would be crying yourself to sleep tonight. And you would get up tomorrow, wipe the sorrow from your eyes and continue to live your life as if nothing happened. Because you are strong and resilient.

And James, even though he is finally present, is not able to offer you the solace you so desperately deserve.

At least he thought so.

His eyes wander to the silver cuffs around his arms, feeling the weight and letting the subtle clink of them seep into his skull. He has never questioned why or how the rules of heaven applied to him. He never even thought about the consequences of breaking them until he felt the need to protect you. He never really cared until you became the most important thing in his life.

Now, seeing the pain in your gaze, and feeling the guilt for being here, not soothing you gnaws on him, sending him back to a state in which he would kill to see you smile again. Free of fear and sorrow.

You bite your lip when you settle on the chair across from his. Your eyes look dull, but James can’t help but think there is a question posed within them. Something desperate and restricted. Oh, how he would love to know what you’re trying to say. He is just too inexperienced with human interaction that he can get a read on everything just yet.

James feels his heart picking up, knowing it beats in the same rhythm as yours, but he doesn’t dare speak, knowing his voice will betray him. Your tea cup is empty, your eyes tired, and he knows that this evening with you will end within seconds.

“Good night, James.” You finally say, following the small ritual you have established with him as you wave at him weakly.

Normally, he says it back. Normally, he guides you to the bedroom and closes your door promising to watch over you in silence. Normally, he doesn’t have a demon’s words ringing in his ears.

But today, something feels different. As you gather your things and head towards your bedroom, a sudden surge of determination courses through him. He can't bear the thought of being separated from you, even for a moment longer.

With a sense of reckless abandon, and the words of Wanda hanging in his mind James makes a daring decision. Ignoring the warnings echoing in his every being, he reaches out to you, his touch barely grazing your shoulder as you turn to leave.

In that fleeting moment of contact, something shifts. A spark ignites between you, a connection so powerful and undeniable that it defies explanation. Time seems to slow as you both freeze, caught in the throes of a bond that transcends the boundaries of heaven and earth.

For a heartbeat, everything hangs in the balance, the air crackling with electricity. And then ...nothing happens.

There is no rush of wind and light that makes him disappear, leaving behind only the echo of his presence lingering in the empty space between. There is nothing else welcoming him in wrath or absolute nothingness or whatever is supposed to happen if a celestial ever dared to touch a mortal.

He opens his eyes that he had shut tight without noticing. And you’re still here. In front of him, staring at his hand that is softly wrapped around your wrist. His mind is struggling to make sense of what just happened - or rather what didn’t. It was all a hoax.

James feels rage bubble within him. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet stillness of the room, touching. He counts yet another reason why heaven was never where he belonged.

A single tear rolls down his cheek when he pulls you into his body and wraps his arm around you tightly. His heart beats violently, pumping the anger of knowing how much time he wasted not being close to you through his body. His wings follow close behind, sealing you into his warmth and creating a space just for you and him. It’s as if you are made for him. Your body tugs perfectly beneath his feathery white wings and he knows he’ll hold you like this for eternity.

❁ ❁ ❁

He’s touching you.

James is touching you. No, actually, he’s consuming you with his whole being, pulling you into the best hug you have ever received. His wings wrap around you protectively, engulfing you into his scent entirely. It’s earthy, and clean, and... heavenly.

You chuckle slightly as your cheek presses to his chest, your head barely reaching his collar bone, but it just makes you feel enclosed by his presence from all around. You heart beats just as rapidly as his and you exhale in content as you realize that you’re not the only one feeling this connection.

You don’t know what changed. Maybe you are not as good as hiding your sadness as you think you are. Or maybe there is a whole other reason behind this angel guarding you into the most loving hug you have ever experienced. But fact is, you needed it today more than ever.

And James knew ...because he strangely knows so much about you. He feels familiar without trying and it is a weirdly comforting thing to experience. Especially after all you have been through.

Hesitantly, and almost sorrowfully, you pull away from his warm chest. His wings loosen around you, his arms leaving just enough space for you to lean back and stare into those azure blue eyes of his. He’s beautiful up close. Long lashes frame his loving stare as his mouth tugs into a smile, taking yours right with it.

“You touched me.” You say in awe as James’s eyebrows slightly raise. “You thought I didn’t notice, but I did.”

There is a steak silence as his gaze travels over your face then roams his arms that are still holding you tightly close to him. “Should I not be touching you?” He asks carefully.

You can feel his hands retreating but you pull him right in before they’re gone. “I was just wondering when you would.” You snuggle back into his shirt and his hands cradle your head to him. “Is it embarrassing to say I’ve wanted you to do it for a while now?”

“Not embarrassing at all.” His chest rumbles with a chuckle. “I’ve wanted to do it even before then. I just didn’t know if I could.” The last part is a mere whisper that dissipates in your hair when his mouth presses to it in a feather light brush.

A rush of warmth floods through you, filling every corner of your being with a sense of belonging you've never known before. Time seems to stand still, the world falling away until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in each other's arms.

"You've wanted to touch me?" you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them, a confession born of the unspoken longing that has lingered between you for far too long.

James's gaze softens, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of your cheek as he meets your eyes with a look of quiet intensity. "More than you could ever know," he replies. "But I feared the consequences.”

“What consequences?” James shakes his head as his thumb still lingers on your skin.

“I don’t know.” You reach up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you search his eyes again. It was stupid of you to assume he didn’t touch you because he didn’t like you. He was probably scared of what would happen if angels ever dared. The look in his deep blues tells you how worried he was. How long he withheld for the sake of dodging the unknown.

“It’s not bad, is it?” You hand travels across his chest, feeling the muscles tense in its wake. “Touching.”

James's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding against his chest as he gazes down at you with a mixture of awe and reverence. And once again, you would love to know what is happening inside his brain.

With a trembling hand, James cups your face in his palm, his touch gentle yet possessive as he leans in to press his forehead to yours. You cant help but feel that there is something keeping him from you, still.

“Let me stay with you tonight, my beloved.” His fingers tighten around your face ever so slightly. “Let me hold you and keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?” You ask in a trance as your fingers bury in his hair and you play with the thought of pressing your lips to his. But he has taken so long to hug you. You don’t want him to be overwhelmed.

“Anything.” He whispers back and closes his eyes. A whole new warmth consumes you when his words seep in, blanketing you in cherish and admiration. If this is what being appreciated feels like, you will fight to keep the feeling forever.

“Okay.”

❁ ❁ ❁

Oh how much the celestials have lied. Flying is nothing compared to this.

❁ ❁ ❁

As you bustle about the diner, taking orders and refilling coffee mugs with practiced ease, Peggy sits at her usual spot at the counter, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she watches you work.

"Something on your mind, Peggy?" you ask with a smile, setting down a plate of pancakes in front of a hungry customer.

Peggy leans in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "I couldn't help but notice that smile of yours, dear," she says with a knowing wink. "It's positively radiant today. Dare I say, it's almost as if you've got a secret?"

You chuckle, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at her observation. “Hmm, I don’t know,” you reply coyly, unable to suppress the grin that tugs at the corners of your lips as you tab your finger against them. “What makes you think I’d share it with you?”

“Well, I am a loyal customer for one...” She pauses as she thinks of another point. “And I am old enough to think the secret dies with me." Peggy presses, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Please, you know the entire town.” You laugh and Peggy waves her hand dismissively, though there is a proud smirk on her red lips.

Before she can respond, a voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and tinged with bitterness. "What's all this about smiles and secrets?”

You turn to see Old Lee leaning against the counter with a grim expression. His worn-down straw hat flops over his eyes, making him look even more grumpy than usual.

"It's nothing, Stan," you reply, trying to defuse the tension with a forced smile. "Just some friendly banter."

Old Lee’s eyes narrow slightly. "Friendly banter, huh? You're squawking like a bunch of chickens in a henhouse."

Peggy rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by Stan's attitude. "Oh, hush up, Stan," she scolds, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "Can't you see we're having a moment here? This is girl talk. Go and drink your tea like the grumpy old man you are.”

Old Lee shakes his head in response but wisely chooses to turn back to his drink. “We all know how the last time she came in here with a smile that big turned out.” Old Lee grumbles searching your eyes once more. “The frogs're telling me we’ll have another rain comin’ soon. You better be careful, sweetheart.”

You share a conspiratorial look with Peggy, either of you not sure wether to believe him or not. Stan is not one for sappy love stories, but he certainly hits the nail on the head with his predictions every time. His bold hint towards the last big death this town suffered glides off his tongue like a Sunday prayer and it ripples down your spine in ice-cold peaks.

“That is in the past. Right now, I really am hoping we are talking about the charming gentleman I talked to the other week. He certainly is a sight for sore eyes.” Peggy’s eyes sparkle as Old Lee huffs into his cup.

She winks back at you and the smile returns to your lips, along with the giddy feeling you get when James is called into your mind. But before you can respond, the diner door swings open, signaling the arrival of another customer and putting an end to your conversation—for now, at least.

❁ ❁ ❁

A noise calls from the back of your house right before the sun starts its journey in the sky. You don’t wake as James tries to stir carefully with his arms still holding you tightly. He was not sleeping - he doesn’t need sleep, but he still feels groggy from the warm and comforting night being ripped away with the sound.

It piques another time and now, James is sure, someone is trying to get inside. Within minutes he is out of bed, checking the window and then closing the door to your bedroom on his way to the back.

He is ready to protect you at all costs, eager to show you how much you mean to him, but when he sees a touch of white beyond the window and hears the familiar rustling of feathers that accompany it, it only takes him a second to realize who has come to intrude your peace.

Two men - angels - just as tall has James litter the kitchen once he opens the door and pulls them inside with both hands. Samuel, the one standing a little to the side, brushes his clothes off once he comes to a stand again, watching James with amusement and curiosity. “I see you haven’t changed much, James. A simple ‘hello’ would have been just fine.” He crosses his arms before his chest, his wings shaking the dowry rain from their feathers and right onto your kitchen floor.

“Why are you here?” His eyes search those of Steven - a friend of his but also an angel ranking higher than James ever will.

“You know why we’re here.” He steps closer once he has composed himself again. “You are testing the heavens.”

James huffs, feeling the anger rise inside him. If anything, heaven was testing him. So he goes on to ignore the blonde angel before him, willing his heart to calm at all the frustration accumulating at once. “Did you know it was a lie?” James starts instead. His voice is strained when he thinks of all the times he refrained from touching you just to keep you safe. “Just a way to keep us from initiating contact?”

Steven doesn’t say anything and Samuel’s stare meets that of James again. Steven shows little remorse, the pride on display now more than usual. The supposed betrayal James has caused is nothing to the sting boring into his soul by the very man standing in font of him. Steven is cold, distant - when he should be a friend.

“I should have known.” James shakes his head. “Your duties have always placed higher than your friendships.”

“That is because duties are the most valuable virtue God can give.” Steven finally says and his jaw ticks angrily.

James could never imagine being more loyal to a system placing as many restrains as heaven does. Not when he knows how good the real world can feel. How precious it is to smell flowers and hold the one you love in your arms well into the night.

“You came here with a mission, James. And since your fall, you have done nothing but frolic throughout this place with your very own human.” Samuel is eerily still behind the broad blonde spitting one accusation after the other. But James decides not to comment on it just yet.

“It is far more than that,” he rasps feeling the protectiveness flood his body.

“We know. That is why you are here in the first place.”

“What am I supposed to do, Steven?” James tries to keep his voice low, but his frustration is too great. Steven should be the one to understand better than anyone else. But he seems to have locked that part of him far away right now. “How can I amend a sin that is irreversible?!”

“Every sin can be amen-“ Steve’s eyebrows raise and Samuel’s eyes flickers from James and focuse behind him. That is when his heart beat picks up again. And as much as he loves you, he wishes with all his being that you are not standing behind him right now.

“Please, no.” He mutters and turns just to have you approach from the hallway with tired eyes.

“What is happening? Who are you?” Your voice sounds sleepy, a hand rubbing over your face before you find yourself by James’s side.

“Angels.” He bites his lips, contemplating for a moment but deciding that you deserve to hear what is happening in your own home. A home he hopes to be part of forever. Besides, with Steven here, there is no ending this conversation without confusing you more. “They want me to abandon you.” The bitterness is evident in his tone. But he regrets it as soon as he catches the stutter in your heart.

“What?” It’s all you say, but the way you do breaks his collected facade.

“James-“

“What do I have to loose, Steven?” his arms open wide. "They already cast me out. They took my freedom, they took it all.” His wings barely shake, just emphasizing his statement.

Steve steps closer, causing you to slightly shove yourself behind James, his arm reaching around you, just not touching yet. ”But there is still a chance to redeem yourself.”

“What if I don’t want it?” James bites back.

“Don’t act rash, James. Think about this.“

“I have.” Long and hard. Every night he holds you, he has enough time to do so. And he has come to the conclusion that nothing compares to having you this close to him... and only him.

“You know of the punishment placed for sinners who do not attempt to right their wrongs.” Steven is seething beneath the surface, James can tell. But he tries to stay professional. He can try all he wants. James has already made a decision.

“What is he talking about?” Your voice takes him back to your presence. Your hands sneak around his forearm and hand, to which his body responds like a reflex. His fingers squeeze yours, his body seeks the heat of yours. Samuel looks at the interaction curiously, Steven settles for a disapproving taunt.

“I lose my wings. I lose heaven.” James explains to you, watching as your eyes open wider in shock.

“What?” There is so much more behind your astound answer. What does this mean for us?

“James is banished from the heavens temporarily already.” Steven’s voice drips with authority, making you stiffen beside him. James hates it. And he doesn’t hate much.

“Why?” You’re too soft for this, too fragile to take another betrayal so soon. He has just gotten started and he already feels you drifting away. Your eyes are glassy when you turn to Steven. “What could have possibly been so bad that you ended up here?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Sam breaks his silence. The surprise is written all over his face just to be replaced by confusion when James utters his name in warning.

“Tell me.” It seems as though his eyes switch between everyone in the room, trying to warn them all of what will happen if they take his opportunity of telling you himself.

“James is not just any angel.”

“Steve, stop it.”

“He is your guardian angel.”

It all happens too fast. A look to Samuel tells him there is no ending this. Steven won’t stop until he has tried his all to have you turn from James.

“And he committed the worst sin of them all.” You look shocked and expectant. The grip on James’s hands grows tighter with every syllable leaving Steven’s mouth. And James is silently cursing the angel in front of him “He killed a man... for you.”

You stumble back and James catches you only to earn a warning glare from Steven and Samuel.��

“Brock,” you whisper and it sounds like the single word has taken the entire air out of your system.

Lighting brightens your house over the stifled morning gleam and thunder sounds dangerously in the distance. You’re flinching, though searching James’s eyes as he steadies you back on your feet.

“You cant do this forever, James.”

“And what if I try?” He turns fully. “What if I would rather get myself killed than come back to heaven?”

“He wouldn’t” Steve is heaving, but Sam steps forward, Laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe his rage. “The soul bond affects her just as it does him.”

“What does that mean?” It’s barely a screech when you interrupt them again. Turning to James and tugging at his shirt, you convey the frustration of being kept in the dark through your features. “What does it mean, James?”

He sighs, shaking his head and then closing his eyes - hoping to escape this conversation. But it is happening. “It means, if I die... you will die, too. A soul need replace that of a guardian one.”

At this point, James questions his sanity. How could he have not realized the twisted ways of the celestial realm sooner? In an attempt to soothe both his aching head and your tired soul, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but your hands swat his arms away.

James recoils as if struck, the sting of rejection shattering his heart into thousands of pieces

“You might think it wise to revisit what we offered you, James.”

The words hang in the air like a dark omen when Steven and Samuel disappear. With a heavy heart, James turns away from you, unable to bear the weight of your disappointment any longer.

As you walk away, James is torn between the desire to comfort you and the fear of causing you further pain. But when he reaches out to touch you, once more, your tears are a silent testament to the rift that now lies between you.

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice choked with emotion. It’s a desperate attempt to fix this, even if he does not know how.

“Go, James. Please. I need time to understand all this-”

“I can help you.”

“-alone. I want to be alone.” You swallow hard. “Leave, please.” Your tears finally spill and James despises that he is at fault of them.

“Go.”

Feeling more abandoned than ever, James leaves you to your grief, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his soul. In that moment, he realizes that the price of his newfound freedom may be greater than he ever imagined, leaving him trapped in a prison of his own making, forever haunted by the memory of the one he could never save.

He knows there are not many ways to fix this. But he is determined to find the one that will.

❁ ❁ ❁

He doesn’t remember earth to be quite this cold.

Find me when you have made the right choice. The words keep ringing in his head.

A little warmth would feel nice now.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were angry when you told James to leave. Angry, and hurt, and confused, and shocked, and fucking tired of it all.

But now that he is gone, an unfamiliar emptiness has taken its place where your tingles used to be. Everything makes so much sense now. The weirdly familiar feeling. The sense of security around him - a total stranger at the time, who obviously possessed more strength than you could ever imagine. The instant pull from his heart to yours.

The quiet of your house seems to close in on you. The walls feel tighter, the rooms emptier. Every corner holds a memory of James, a reminder of the presence that had once filled your life with warmth and mystery. His laugh echoing in the hallway, his silhouette framed in the morning light through the kitchen window, the way he seemed to know when you needed comfort before you even realized it yourself.

You sit at the table, staring at your untouched cup of coffee, replaying moments in your mind. The time he effortlessly carried your groceries when you insisted you could manage alone. The nights he stayed up with you, talking about everything and nothing, his voice soothing and familiar. The way he looked at you, as if you were the center of his universe.

The days seem endless without him. Simple tasks feel monumental in the absence of his reassuring presence. You find yourself hesitating before making decisions, second-guessing your choices, yearning for the silent support he always provided. The realization hits you: you had built your life around him, around the safety and stability he brought, even without knowing the full truth of who he was.

You cannot deny that a big part of you misses him despite all the lies he told you. Well, not lies entirely. You know he has always been truthful to you ...he just never told the whole truth until he was forced to.

And even though the other two angels who visited made him reveal his secrets to you, you feel like there is so much more to discover still.

Your hand settles over your heart, trying to pull the constant racing around James back into existence. But it beats in profound silence, acting as though nothing has happened, when - in fact - everything has changed. James came into your life and unapologetically took your heart away. You don’t want it back. You want him back. Heart or not, your souls are connected. And now that he is gone, you know what you have truly been missing all this time.

With a sigh, you rise form your chair and grab your keys, determined to find a way to help James out of the trouble he has caused because of you. A shiver runs down your spine at the memories of it all. James’s sin had good intentions, you know this much. But two people died at the time of it - though only one deserves your mourning.

You pull your door closed and make your way to town hall. The entire left wing of the building is dedicated to the library and you are destined to find out more about the man who crashed into your life and took your heart away... and then disappeared.

The library is quiet, the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper the only sounds that break the stillness. You approach the counter, where a librarian is meticulously organizing a stack of book. She looks up as you approach, her kind eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Hello, dear,” she says warmly. How can I help you today?”

You hesitate for a moment but then you decide to just start at the beginning. “I’m looking for some texts about angels,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “More specifically fallen angels... and the consequences of disobeying.”

The librarian raises an eyebrow and a look close to amusement and happiness reaches over her face. “That’s a rather specific topic,” she muses and your brow begins to sweat. Maybe this was a stupid idea. The woman is still eyeing you with a smolder, but then, as if you pushed a button, she shrugges and begins to type away on her computer. “Good thing it’s my job to get you exactly what you need.”

She nods slowly after a little while. “We do have some old texts and legends about angels. Let me show you.” With that, she lifts her body out of the office chair behind the desk and leads you to the far end of the library. It’s a quiet corner where the oldest books are kept. She pulls an ancient-looking leather-bound volume from a high shelf. For the place it has been kept, it is surprisingly dust-free.

With a smile, she hands it to you and then wishes you ‘happy hunting’.

The book is heavy in your hands. The front is embossed in golden letters. Your fingers trace over it, feeling every ridge and dip. ‘Legends of the Divine and Fallen’, the title reads.

When you flip through the pages, the book’s well-worn smell engulfs you and something inside you shifts. You brother loved old books. The one in your hand brings you right back to when you were kids. Pietro had a whole wall of shelves filled with his favorite stories. And more so than often, you snuck inside when he was out with his friends, grabbing one whose cover intrigued you the most and then getting lost in the pages until he came back and read it to you.

He sparked your interest in reading - made you the bookworm you are today. And finally, probably caused you to jump into this adventure with James in hopes of finally living inside on of your fantasy worlds.

You eyes get caught by a story in the book, your thumbs halting and fully opening the page as intrigue tingles in your entire body with every word you read.

The Tale of Buchariel: The Curious Angel

In the celestial realms, where light and harmony prevail, there existed an angel named Buchariel. Renowned for his loyalty and dedication, Buchariel was also marked by an insatiable curiosity. His yearning to understand the world beyond the heavenly gates set him apart from his brethren, who were content to serve without question.

One fateful day, driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Buchariel descended to the mortal realm without divine permission. His eyes beheld the beauty and chaos of humanity, the joys and sorrows that defined their existence. It was in this realm, teeming with life and temptation, that Buchariel's fate took a dark turn.

As Buchariel wandered the earth, a demon of cunning and allure took notice of the angel's presence. This demon, skilled in the art of seduction, approached Buchariel with promises of forbidden knowledge and experiences that no celestial being had ever known. Blinded by his curiosity, Buchariel succumbed to the demon's temptations, engaging in acts that defied the sacred laws of the heavens.

Word of Buchariel's fall reached the celestial realm, and the angels were dispatched to retrieve their wayward brother. They arrived in time to save Buchariel from complete corruption, pulling him from the demon's grasp and returning him to the realm of light. However, the consequences of his actions could not be undone.

The celestial court declared Buchariel's punishment. He was stripped of his rank and given an ultimatum: he could return to heaven only if he vowed never to betray the divine will again. God, in His infinite mercy, offered Buchariel a chance at redemption. He was to serve as a guardian angel, watching over humanity and guiding them towards righteousness. In this duty, he could be close to the world, yet stay obedient to heaven.

Buchariel accepted his fate, grateful for the opportunity to make amends. Yet, the legend speaks of the angel's perpetual struggle. Constantly exposed to the allure of the mortal world, Buchariel walked a fine line between duty and desire. His heart, once pure and untainted, now carried the scars of his past transgressions.

Eons passed, and Buchariel's vigilance never wavered, but neither did the temptations. His soul remained in perpetual conflict, torn between his heavenly duty and the memories of earthly sensations. The legend warns that Buchariel's fall could occur once more, for the battle within him is eternal. He is an angel forever on the edge of sin, a guardian who knows the weight of temptation, and a being who understands the cost of free will.

Thus, the tale of Buchariel serves as both a caution and a beacon. It reminds all who hear it of the delicate balance between obedience and desire, and the endless journey towards redemption that even the most divine must undertake.

A chill runs down your spine as you realize the parallels between the legend and James. The delicate balance between obedience and desire - serving and sinning. James did sin again. When he killed the man who ended your brother’s life.

You sit in silence, the weight of your realization settling over you like a shroud. It’s clear that Jame’s story resembles that of Buchariel in too many ways to be a coincidence. He was weirdly comfortable on earth, now that you think about it. For Christ's sake he even told you he had met God ‘under rather unfortunate circumstances’. If what the legend says is true, unfortunate is the understatement of the century. Now you cant help but wonder what price he might pay for his defiance.

❁ ❁ ❁

The diner hums with its usual activity, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations fill the air. You move mechanically from table to table, refilling coffee cups and taking orders, but your mind is elsewhere, clouded with thoughts of James and the emptiness his absence has left behind.

Peggy, sitting at her usual spot at the counter, watches you with concern etched on her face. She waits until you pass by her with the coffee pot before speaking up.

"What's happened to that smile of yours, dear?" Peggy asks, her voice soft and maternal. "You used to light up this place."

You force a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Just tired, Peggy. You know how it is."

Peggy's eyes narrow, not buying your excuse for a second. "Tired, my foot. Something's bothering you. You can talk to me, you know."

Before you can respond, Scott chimes in with a smirk. "At least now I know you’re back to normal," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Thought you were gonna float away with all that grinning you were doing."

You shoot Scott a glare, feeling a mix of irritation and sadness. "Thanks, Scott. Really helpful."

“Always at your service” He tips his nonexistent hat, almost bringing a chuckle up within you. In his own way, he never faisl to cheer you up a little.

Peggy waves a dismissive hand at Scott and turns her full attention back to you. "Don't mind him, honey.” She leans in closer, her expression softening. "But seriously, what's going on? I haven't seen you this down in a while."

You sigh, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "It's complicated, Peggy. Someone important to me... well, they're not around anymore. And it's just... hard."

Peggy reaches out and pats your hand gently. “We all miss Pietro, dear. Losing someone is never easy... especially after all you’ve been through.”

You nod, grateful for her kindness, but the ache in your chest remains. You can't bring yourself to tell her it’s not your brother you are mourning at this time. "I appreciate that."

The hustle and bustle of the diner continues around you, but for a brief moment, you feel a small measure of comfort in Peggy's concern.

As you turn to refill another customer's coffee, Peggy's words linger in your mind. Maybe opening up a bit more wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe, just maybe, sharing the burden could help ease the pain of James's absence, even if only a little. But who should you talk to? The only person you were every really close with is gone...

❁ ❁ ❁

Yet another day passes in which you worry yourself tired. The house feels emptier than ever, the silence pressing in on you as you move through the rooms like a ghost. You try to distract yourself with chores and routines, but your thoughts always circle back to James. Wondering if he’s safe or thinking about you.

You sink into the worn armchair by the window, your favorite spot to watch the world outside. But tonight, the familiar view brings no comfort. The sky is a dark canvas, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the loneliness wrap around you like a suffocating blanket as Old Lee’s words echo in your mind once again.

A quiet sob calls into the empty room - barely audible. And then the tears start falling down your face in constant streams. The memory of his touch, his warmth, his presence, feels like a distant dream. You close your eyes, trying to recall the feeling of James's arms around you, the sound of his heartbeat against yours. It's a comfort and a torment all at once.

You haven’t cried like this since Pietro died... No, actually, you did when the message of Brock’s death reached you. But those were tears of relief rather than pain.

A sudden chill sweeps through the room, at the memory of the man who tormented your life in more ways than one. You open your eyes, frowning as you notice that it’s not only the thought of Brock making you feel this way. The air seems to crackle with an otherworldly energy. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you feel a strange pull, a familiar yet eerie sensation that makes your heart race.

You stand up slowly, your breath hitching in your throat. The room feels alive with a palpable tension, as if the very fabric of reality is shifting. You turn around, your eyes scanning the dimly lit space.

And then you see him.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands before you, his presence both startling and comforting, he notes as your herts sync again. His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. You look as if you've been through a storm, yet there is a resolute strength in your gaze that anchors him. He probably doesn’t look much better, considering he in fact has been in said storm. But he’d do anything to come back to you.

"James," you breathe, your voice trembling with emotion. "You're here.”

He steps forward, closing the distance between you. "I’m here," he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of all the unspoken words and unshared moments.

You reach out, your hand trembling as it touches his cheek, as if verifying that he is real and not another figment of your imagination. Your skin is cold and the sensation sends a flood of emotions through him.

"Where have you been?" you ask, your voice cracking with the weight of your worry.

“It is a long story," he replies, his hand covering yours. "But right now, all that matters is that I'm here. With you.”

In that moment, the world outside fades away, and all that exists is the space between you and James. The silence is filled with unspoken promises and the electric charge of a reunion long overdue.

When you fall into his arms crying, his knees feel like giving out. He has had a long journey behind him, but he would die before showing you weakness when you need him the most. “I thought I would never see you again!” You cry even harder and James wraps his arms around you with loving pressure.

“I’m here,” he tries to soothe you. His wings come around you once again in search for the calmness that washes over him when he realizes you feel safe.

“I don’t think I can do without you anymore.” Your voice is muffled against his chest but his heart leaps at your confession. Warmth spreads throughout his body as the realization hits that you finally feel close to the emotions he has harbored for you for so long.

James wants to promise you that he’ll never leave again. He wants to tell you that there is nothing worth losing you. Not the most tempting offer to ever exist. He wants to hold you forever, in fact, do more than just hold you and give into the feeling he has only ever heard about from demons and sinners.

But he can’t. Because he knows it would not be true.

His feud with heaven is far from over. And the journey he plans to venture holds great unknown. So, he settles for the one thing he can tell you with certainty.

“I cannot be without you, either, my beloved. There is so much I want to experience with you but the most important of them all is love. I love you, with my entire soul and heart. I cannot deny you this truth any longer. I have done the unspeakable because of it and you deserve to know.”

You eyes look up at him widely, a question in them that has waited long enough to be asked. “Brock’s death wasn’t an accident,” you whisper, but your posture remains steady. There is no pain or sorrow in your face. Just pure, plain curiosity.

“They told me he was mugged and thrown in the river. But it never made sense to me.” You pull a little out of his touch and James lets you even though his entire body screams to keep you close. “This town is too small to be mugged in. He was killed with a single stab to his heart. A mugger would never be so efficient.”

You gleam at him, seemingly waiting for him to confirm. But James stands in your presence with a sense of pride. He does not regret is transgression, not when it meant keeping you safe - which was and still is his greatest aim.

“The way he was found was too peaceful to be from a robbery, either.” You tell him shaking your head. “How can you make a murder look so respectful and honest?”

“I am sorry if I have upset you, dearest-“

“You haven’t. Brock Rumlow was a bad man. It took me a long time to notice, but he was abusing and ill-driven. If anything, I am upset I couldn’t thank you sooner that he is gone.”

“I had played with the though of removing him from the face of the earth for quite some time,” James confesses, feeling all the secret’s weight rolling off him like avalanches. “From the moment he first screamed at you... to the time he laid his hands on you. But I knew you were strong. I was so proud of you for getting up each day and moving on. I would have never acted had he not hurt you in a way even i could feel throught the very bond that ties our souls together. I knew you could handle the hurtful words, even the hurtful touches - that no-one, and especially not you, deserves. Your brother is of similar cunning as myself. But he was brave enough to act while I was fearing the consequences of testing celestial rule once more.”

James catches the new tears rushing down your cheeks. But he wont stop telling you. He knows you need to hear it. It hurts him to revisit the memory of watching Pietro die in his quest to secure your freedom. “I was trying to honor you brother as much as ensure your safety when I... killed Brock.” He clears his throat and takes your hands in his. “He would have continued to hurt every person he encountered. I do not regret what I did.”

“Oh, James.” Your hands reach up to his face. James bows down to follow the tug you apply to his jaw. “Thank you for telling me. I am not angry. And despite what the other angels said, I know you are a good person. I love you, too.”

You smile as James’s hands cover yours on his face. Your foreheads are touching and the room around you fades into nothingness. In this moment in time, there are just you and him, and all the new feeling bubbling inside him that he his eager to explore.

He’s known it for long, but now he is certain than going back to heaven was never an option. Not when you are still here.

“I would love to kiss you right now,” you whisper in the space between you, igniting a heat within James he has never felt before.

“I would like that very much,” he confesses and as soon as the words leave his lips, yours are firmly pressed against his.

The sensation is overwhelming. Your lips are soft and warm, moving against his in a way that sends shivers down his spine. His hands still press yours to his skin, unsure what to do and overwhelmed with the experience opened to him. You gently take them and move then to your waist, then a little lower, making him trace the curve of your body as your tongue slowly slips between his lips. The contact sends a surge of electricity through him, making his heart race.

The kiss is tentative at first, each of you exploring this new and wondrous connection. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as if afraid he might vanish with this daring protest against heaven. He can feel the gentle tremor in your touch, the same mixture of awe and desire that he feels within himself.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. Your breath mingles with his, cheeks heated and lips swollen. “Move your hands, James,” you whisper, guiding his hands to slide even lower on your body, teaching him how to hold you close, even though he thought he has always done so right. This is different. This is more.

He follows your lead, fingers trembling with the intensity of the moment as they squeeze flesh, eliciting a soft whimper from you that makes James’s insides stir. Or maybe it is not his insides after all, he notices when his pants feel tighter all of a sudden.

Each brush of your lips against his, each caress, speaks of the longing and love that has been building between you for so long. James deepens the kiss, more confident now, feeling the warmth of your body against his, and it’s as if the world outside has ceased to exist.

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, and you smile, voice breathless. “You’re doing great.”

The kiss becomes more fervent, your guidance helping James navigate this new territory. He feels like he’s pouring all his love and devotion into this one act, wanting to convey everything he’s never been able to say. His wings reach round you tentatively, leaving enough air for you to breathe. He want’s to be wrapped up in you more - he cannot explain it.

James pulls back slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “This... this is incredible,” he murmurs in a voice husky with wonder. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You smile, eyes sparkling. “Neither have I.”

Your lips find each other again, more urgent this time, as if you’re making up for lost time - at least James is. The demon who lured him down the first time failed to mention this part of humanity to him.

“I want to show you more,” you finally whisper against his skin and at this point, James is willing to walk the sun if you asked him to.

“Everything,” he rasps, his lips touching you with every syllable. He cannot get enough of your taste. “Show it all to me, my love.”

“I want to start with taking off our clothes.” You kiss him again, making Jame’s pants feel even tighter. He knows about sex and he knows it is what you are hinting at. But he has never experienced it. It is no use to angels, since they cannot impregnate another. In heaven, it is rarely talked about - and if it is, one is warned about it.

Right now, James does not care why. He is eager to experience as much as there is on earth with you and then some. So, he lets you guide his hands over your shoulders, shrugging your cardigan off your body and letting his fingers glide beneath the thin straps adorning your shoulders now.

His hands are so big compared to yours. He marvels in the fact of how much stronger he is, making him able to protect you that much better.

James has no difficulty guiding the clothes from your body. Nakedness is something barely acknowledged where he comes from. But today... something about it feels different. This situation feels so much more intimate than it usually does. And he notices, when you kneel down to pull his pants down, his cock stands proud from his body, bigger than usual, and hard and- “Oh!” sensitive, he notes when your lips kiss his hip, your face slightly grazing his member in the action.

With your head next to it, it looks disproportionately huge, but you don’t seem to mind.

“This... I have never done this before.” James’s hands guide you back up to him. He is certain his cheeks are glowing red by now. He feels hot and bothered, yet so yearning for more of the teasing your face provided for mere seconds before.

“Are you okay with continuing?” Your eyes find his again.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.” And when he nods, you take his hand and lead him down the hall to your bedroom.

He has missed this place, missed holding you for the time he went away, but he can't tell you where he has been just yet. Not now, anyway. Right now, he wants to experience whatever you are willing to show him.

You walk around him, touching him all over, watching him react and making him lean down only to pull back before his lips can get a taste of yours again. It’s beautiful agony and James is torn between pulling you into his strong grip and letting you wind him up until his balls feel like they are the ones squeezed tightly. They already are...

Eventually, you come to a stop behind him. He jolts when you fingers drive over the top of his wings, only for you to mumble a quick ‘sorry’ and coming back around in front of him.

“Don’t be sorry. I was just not expecting it.”

You stare past him and at the white feathers protruding from his back. “They are so soft... and pretty.” You find his eyes. “All of you is pretty.”

He reaches for your face, finding pride in the way you nestle into his palm with a smile. “And dear, you are the most beautiful being the world has ever seen.”

“Can I touch them again?” You whisper only for James to now stare in awe.

He watches as your hands pass his body in slow-motion. They travel past his ribs and reach carefully towards his wings again. This time, he is prepared, though his stomach feels tight with something opposite of worry. More of a physical feeling he can't begin to explain. He closes his eyes and lets your touch travel over them like a prayer. Your path leaves shivers in its wake and James lets his head hang, reveling in the feeling. He opens his eyes and watches his cock twitch whenever the tingles get too much.

He gasps breathlessly when you graze the underside of his wings, making his whole body jump slightly.

“Oh, are those sensitive?” You smile in awe, though your expression turns to excitement when he wheezes out his answer.

“Very.”

“Do you like it?”

Your fingers glide over the same spot again, making his cock leak, feeling like he’s about to explode. “Yes!” He grabs the sideboard next to him.

“I want to make you feel good, James” your voice is damp agains this ear and he bites his tongue before bursting.

“You already do.”

“I want to make it even better.”

James is not sure he can handle better. He’s already floating miles above the ground when you touch him in the ways you do. Maybe he has to distract himself to enjoy this some more.

He could think about why heaven would withhold education of how amazing sex can be. That will make him calm a little, posting yet another reason why it was never the place to be for him.

Your hands wrap around his silver wrists as you guide him to the bed, pushing down on his shoulders until he is sat on the mattress, looking up at you with intrigue and awe.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ride you, James.” You straddle his lap and his arms immediately reach around you.

“Ride ...me? I’m not a horse.” He states and watches as your smile lights up. But it settles a weary feeling in his stomach. There is a hint of mischief in your glint, and James is not sure he can handle it right now.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my entire soul.”

You kiss him and push at his chest. “The lie back for me.”

And so he does, realizing - once again - that anything heaven could offer him pales in comparison to the love he feels for you, a love that knows no bounds or logic and that is reciprocated in your every touch.

James watches as you scoot up his body until you are sat right behind his cock, which has not ceased to soften one bit since you kissed. It reaches all the way to your navel. But before he can take in the sight and calculate the size difference between you, you press him against your stomach, pulling another moan from his lunges.

His tip is leaking more and more with every touch you gift him and James starts to worry his body will give out before he can make you feel good.

“You’re so big, so pretty.” You stroke him from base to top, letting your thumb press into the underside of his cock and send shiver after shiver through James’s body. “I need you inside me.”

“I need that to.” His voice is strangled when you lift up and grind his tip through your wet folds, moaning with the friction he can only assume is the same for you as it is for him.

In a swift motion, the head of his cock sinks inside you, breaching tight muscle and making him feel dizzy with the new sensation. Your head falls back with a loud breath that makes his abs tighten. This whole time, he feels as though a gust of wind could make him unravel, but something inside him tells James he should hold out - or at least try to.

The raspy sounds escaping his throat cant seem to stop when you slowly work yourself all the way down his shaft. And the high-pitched scream you set free when his tip reaches another barrier within you makes him twitch and leak even more.

“Are you alright?” He asks through sweaty brows.

“I’m amazing.” You smile and lift yourself up only to sink back down into his lap. Your movements become steady, and when he finally gets over the way your mouth hangs slack, the rhythm you set builds even more pressure inside him.

The room is filled with messy sounds of skin and sweat and moans and heavy breaths. You sink down on him again and again until James feels like he is on fire. But you don’t relent. Your pace never falters when you fall back and your hands grip his thighs, digging into his muscles until his toes curl.

It’s too much at once and not enough at the same time. James feels as though there is a cliff he could fall over every second now, but he’s too scared to loose the sensations he is experiencing right now to let his body do so.

“Touch me,” you suddenly say, taking his hands which have fisted inside your duvet until now and placing them on the soft flesh of your breasts. Only now, your nipples are hardened when you guide his fingers over them. “Like this.” You’re somehow fare gone and right there with him. But he does as he his told again, flicking his thumb over the pebbled flesh until your moans grow higher and higher. “Ah, Yes!”

It’s doing something to him, he his twitching every time your pussy squeezes him in tandem with his thumb on your nipples. His body is moving without the permission of his mind when he suddenly thrusts up. And then again. And again. Until you are mewling and crying on top of him, your fingernails digging into his legs painfully hard.

James immediately drops his hands only to watch you stare at him with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter. Why did you stop?”

He bites his lips in shame when he realizes he misses your constant movement on his cock. “Am I hurting you?”

You eyes possibly widen further. Leaning forward and capturing his cheeks with both lips and hands, you shake your head after you pull away. “No! No, its a good thing, love. You feel so good. You...” Your expression changes to a rather shy one. “You’re just very big. You should be proud.”

Something inside James clicks as you confess with another kiss to his lips. A smirk spreads beneath them when he curiously thrusts up inside you and experiences your hot breath gains his face.

In a second, his hands grab onto your hips, his body turns and flips the pair of you until your back hits the mattress as gently as he can offer in his compromised position.

A last look of reassurance when your eyes lock with his set off the urges he has suppressed so far. His hips snap forward over and over again, your pussy tightening more around him with every push. Your hands are fist into the covers, head thrown back and mouth open. There is no more sound coming from you at this point. And James understands why. He is as overwhelmed with the feeling as you look. When you grow even tighter, gripping this cock until he cannot move anymore, white pleasure as hot as hellfire rushes through his body, kissing his nerves from head to toe. He feels his balls empty as he paints your inside with his spent, only being able to lazily rut into you after a minute to seize every last drop of pleasure this moment has to offer.

Then he falls forward as if a higher force has taken all the strength from his body, though careful not to hurt you when his weight settles on top of you.

“What-“ he needs to catch his breath first. “What was that?”

“That,” you open your eyes, chest having with every deep breath, “was an orgasm.” Your hands brush through his hair and James finds himself purring at the touch. “And it was the best one I’ve ever had.”

You kiss him and chuckle when he looks at you questioningly. “I guess you could say it was outer-worldly... or even heavenly.”

James rolls his eyes but can’t stop the laugh from slipping his lunges. He pulls back and watches as his softened cock leaves your pussy, only to be followed by your mixed arousal dripping out of you.

Trance-like, his hand moves to collect the fluid and begins to smear it over your petals, up into the soft tuft above it. He knows angels cannot impregnate other beings, but he is fascinated by the scene in front of him. It’s like a little testimony when he marks you all around the best place he has ever experienced, wordlessly rubbing and enjoying the whimpering sounds you make when he flicks over a particular spot.

“Is this sensitive?” He teases with a smirk only to be met with a playful smack on his arm.

“Very.” you say. “But I am entirely satisfied as of right now.”

James sighs and falls into the sheets beside you. “Me too.” He nuzzles into your neck and pulls you closer to his body. He does not care that you are sticky with sweat or that neither of you are cleaned up. He just needs to hold you now that reality has taken its place back around him again.

“So, you have been watching over me for - what? All my life?”

James hides the chuckle bubbling up his throat at your sudden question. He still has his eyes closed, taking in the feeling of your nails lightly scratching up and down his forearms. It makes him tingly.

“All your life, yes.”

“And have you ever meddled with other things that were supposed to happen to me?”

“Do you remember the year in which you kept finding pineapples in arbitrary places?”

It’s silent for a moment, but your movements don’t falter. “I always thought that was a weird coincidence.”

James smiles into the crook of your neck. “Consider it my way of adding a little excitement to your life. And maybe a small attempt to make you notice me.”

You push yourself up slightly and rest on your elbows as you look at James. “I like you like this.” You smile.

“Like what?” He’s smiling as well.”

“Less angel, more...” Your hand comes up to gesture at nothing in particular. “...deviant.”

The smile on James’s face turns into a proud grin before he leans up to kiss you tenderly, savoring the moment and pushing away the thought that has been gnawing on him ever since he came back.

He holds you until you fall asleep, purposefully missing the opportunity to tell you what he has gotten himself into while he was away.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands in the garden, the sky overcast and heavy with the promise of rain. He’s out here to retrieve a bouquet of your favorite flowers, smiling like a fool because he finally has what he always wished for. All his mishaps and seem worth it when he holds you in his arms at night.

The flowers are vibrant and alive, and he bends to pick them with a sense of purpose, each blossom a token of his affection. Even as the first raindrops start to fall, his joy is undiminished. The rain doesn’t bother him; it’s a minor inconvenience compared to the happiness he’s found with you.

As he moves through the garden, he thinks of the moments you’ve shared—the way your eyes light up when you see him, the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter, the way you writhe beneath him in she sheets. For the first time in his existence, he feels complete.

James clutches the bouquet and heads back toward the house, eager to see the surprise on your face when he presents you with the flowers.

But before he can pass the threshold, an eery feeling spreads though is soul, a shadow falls over him but vanishes just as soon. He scans the yard, his sight nestling through the trees at the very edge of it and then suddenly halting when he sees Wanda leaning against one at the very far corner of your property. Her presence is like a dark cloud on the horizon, a stark contrast to the bright joy he feels. Her red eyes glint with a knowing look, and her lips curl into a smirk that sends a chill down his spine.

“Are you not coming inside, James? The weather will only get worse.” You shout through the house only to appear behind him to inspect what is keeping him outside.

But James’s stare is fixated on the demon in your yard, his protective instincts setting in immediately, scanning his surroundings while keeping a close eye on Wanda.

“What is going on?” You ask and reach your arms around him from the side. He can sense you’re eyeing him but he knows you see what he is seeing when your entire body grows rigid beside him.

“Who is that?” you whisper into James’s shoulder as you step even closer to him, your voice barely audible over the increasing patter of rain. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to shield you from the inevitable storm brewing. A quick look at your state tells him he should have send you inside. But It is too late for that now.

When his head turns back into the direction of the demon, it is no longer in its prior place. Instead, Wanda has moved across the garden with impeccable speed, looking up at the pair of you a few feet alway from the step leading to your porch.

“You promised me time to explore the likes of this life.” His voice is low and intimidating, though he knows its futile in the face of a demon. They are scared of very little.

“And explored you have,” her red hair falls over her shoulder when her head ticks to the side. “Tell me, Bucharius, is it worth the cost?”

The demon knows of the leverage it has on him. James was sure he would follow through with his request from the start. But he forgot, or maybe just hoped, the devil’s spawn would gift him more time until he had to go and seal the contract.

“You know it is,” he pushes though clenched teeth, hating how your fingers clamp around his arm already.

“Actually, I don’t. But I would be an idiot to refuse an offer such as yours.” Wanda clasps her long fingers together and grins with evil. “Oh, I will have so much fun with your soul once the time comes.”

The angel closes his eyes tightly, hating the way the demon pressures him to leave so soon. But it is for the greater good, for him at least. He need’s to be selfish for once - to be able to spend a lifetime providing whatever you desire.

“Just give me a moment, Wanda,” James says, his voice steady despite the chaos inside his head. He knows his flicker of happiness is about to be shattered, but he wants to hold onto it for just a little longer.

“What is happening? What does she want?” There are tears brimming in your eyes and James decides he has seen them far too many times to be a good guardian to you. It just secures his decision to do what Wanda came to collect him for.

James presses his lips to the crown of your head before gently tilting it upward with his fingers. His gaze is steady, exuding a confidence while you desperately cling to him in your confusion.

“I’m not sure I can handle all this newfound angelic drama,” you mutter with unease, and James kisses you—short and sweet, a fleeting moment of peace.

Then he whispers against your lips, “Please, you handle drama like a queen. Remember that time you dealt with Valentina from accounting?” His attempt at humor brings a small smile to your face, and he momentarily loses himself in the warmth and security it provides.

But the feeling doesn’t last long.

“James has made a deal with the devil,” Wanda grins, her red eyes flashing with malevolent glee.

Her words send shivers over your body, James feels the ripples pass beneath his fingertips. You pull away from your guardian angel, whose troubles have now escalated to an unthinkable level.

“What does she mean, James?”

❁ ❁ ❁

James’s silence is deafening. You pray, you beg, for this to be a terrible joke, but deep down, you know it’s not.

“James.” Your words are strained, desperate for answers, desperate for reassurance. “What is she talking about?”

“It is true,” James finally admits, his eyes free of sorrow but filled with determination. “I have made a deal with Lucifer. My wings for a mortal life. My soul when it leaves my deceased body after spending a lifetime with you.”

“What?” The word is a whisper, your mind struggling to process the gravity of his confession. Because your cheeks feel salty and stained before you realize what James has just told you. “Why are you doing this?” you ask through your tears.

“Because I’d give up heaven if it meant being with you.” James’s eyes burn into yours, the rain dripping off his wet face deceivingly. His voice is steady, unwavering. “I’d go to hell a thousand times over until my soul burns to ashes if it meant I get to hold you one more time. You’re everything to me. Everything.”

Another wave of shivers slip over your skin with the way he presses the last word. His eyes are fiery, almost desperate. He is trying to make you understand how much better this decision is, but you fail to see how it can. “You can’t do this. You are destined for more. There are many more to come after me that need protecting and watching over.”

“And there have been plenty before you, yet none of them have or will ever compare, my love.” He touches your cheek, but you push his hand away. Your heart is already aching when you watch his face fall at the gesture. But you are not made for these types of dilemmas. You are human for fuck’s sake. “I would spend eternity regretting not experiencing life with you. I am tired of watching; I am over feeling the distance between us. Going back to heaven means finding you someone else to love. And I cannot do that. It would destroy me, burn me alive, rip my heart out of my chest.”

“James, think about this.” Now the first angry tear slips from his face and mixes with he rain which has grown heavier. Dark clouds cast over the scene, matching the mood perfectly. Dreary and sad - how poetic.

“I have. For far too long. I will never feel truly fulfilled until I can be what you need me to be: a real, tangible person that grows old with you.”

You shake your head, your hair sticking to your skin. “You have to believe me when I tell you that I exist only for you. My life was dull before you entered it, and it will feel like a black hole when you leave. There is nothing—nothing—I wouldn’t do to be with you.”

Never before have words felt more genuine than this. James is hunched forward, his eyes pleading at you from above. A sneaky hand has captured yours and presses it to his chest, where his heart is beating vigorously against your skin.

Resignation laces your voice when you finally answer him. “So you’re just going to leave now? For how long? What if he tricked you?”

You don’t know much about all the rules but one thing is for sure, the devil likes to play and deceive. Just the thought of James walking into a trap makes your stomach churn.

“Then it was worth it.” There is something akin to content and fulfillment in Jame’s stare when his hand squeezes yours and his heartbeat slows. Though your’s seems to do the opposite.

“No.” You say breathlessly.

“I’m sorry," he answers, and wraps your fingers around the bouquet in his hands.

“James.”

“I love you.”

“James.”

The rain intensifies, pounding the earth as if mirroring the turmoil in your heart. James turns and lets Wanda put him in chains, leading him away. You fall to your knees, crying, the three words you have yet to say hanging on your lips for nobody to hear. He’s gone. He’s gone without the knowledge of ever seeing you again.

❁ ❁ ❁

And just like that it ends like it began: in tragedy… and rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

Maybe you are just not cut out for happiness, you think as you wipe down the counter with a frown. The sun is shining today, almost mocking your bad mood with every chirping of birds outside. Earlier today, you were so angry about the reflection blinding you inside that you shut the blinds completely.

James has been gone for a week now and you already feel like breaking down over what you’ve lost whenever something is mentioned that reminds you of him.

A few days ago, after a really rough night, you swore you’d never let anyone this close to you. It’s the perfect start for you villain origin story, really. Losing your brother to an abusive ex. Losing said abusive ex thanks to a protective angel. Then falling in love with the angel only for him to go to hell for loving you back.

You heart cannot take another hit. It’s constantly breaking as you think about the torture and pain James is probably suffering in the pits of hell. There is just no more room for another person, another worry, or anything else, really.

You will just die an old and groggy lady, likely still cleaning this very counter until you cant anymore. The whole town is going to know you as the weird woman with seventy two cats.

You shake at the thought of it, disposing of your towel and grabbings some plates from the counter to clean up some more.

“New customer is yours, freaking weirdo has been standing outside the window and looking inside like some kind of stalker,” Scott mumbles as he paces by you with his head buried in his phone screen.

You just sigh and throw a used napkin into the trash before loading the dirty plates onto a kitchen tray.

“I’d like a sandwich, please.” A voice sounds from behind you and your entire body goes rigid.

It can’t be. It cant. For days you have been wishing for James to come back, now you are finally becoming crazy.

But your heart picks up its familiar sprint and your entire body tingles with hope. Still, you don’t dare to turn around.

“Are you not going to look at me, dearest?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the edge of the counter. What if it’s real? What if it’s not? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each second stretching into an eternity. You’ve dreamed of this moment, but dreams are fickle things, easily shattered by the harsh light of reality.

“James...” The name slips out in a whisper, a plea, a hope. Tears sting your eyes, and you squeeze them shut, bracing yourself for the worst.

You take a deep breath and finally turn around. Truly, there he stands in front of you, with a bright and gleaming grin on his lips. There is one thing you notice immediately: the silver cuffs on his arms are gone. And he looks oddly free without them.

Almost trance-like, you round the counter, your had reaches out to him, touching his jaw, gliding down the length of his neck until your fingertips disappear into the soft curls in the back of it.

“Is it really you?” You whisper in awe as you start to drown in the familiar blue of his eyes. And when James covers your hand with his, squeezing his reassuring sequence to your bones, you know. It’s real.

“In the ...flesh.” he frowns but then smiles widely.

“What happened when you were gone?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, but James just shakes his head and then turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrist.

“Not here, love. Take me home... if you’ll have me. Take me back. I promise no more secrets from now on.”

You just nod vigorously, finally pulling James into your embrace. The worry raging inside you fades into insignificance, eclipsed by the certainty that in this moment, you’ve regained something intently more powerful - a bond that defies explanation, but feels undeniably perfect.

“I will always choose you over anything else, James.” You nuzzle into his chest as you ravel in the warmth of his body and the security of his touch. His heart is singing the same song as yours and his head hangs low atop yours, pressing meaningful kisses to your hairline between every stroke of his hand on your back.

The diner around you might as well not exist. All that matters is this connection between you - the bond that defies the boundaries of heaven and earth.

“But tell me one thing,” you whisper into his shirt and James moves to better hear your low voice.

“I will tell you anything,” he presses into another kiss on your face, still holding you close.

“Are you... did the-“ you’re not sure how to assemble the questions inside your mind without being bold. But James seems to know exactly what it is you want to say.

He takes both his hands from around you and guides your face to his until his warm lips press a meaningful kiss to yours. “Yes,” he murmurs softly, yet steadily, conveying just enough seriousness to let you know how important and truthful his answer is. “I did what I promised. I am yours until the end of my life, and even beyond, my soul will be seeking yours for eternity. But until then, we will grow old together and finally be what we were meant to.”

His lips latch onto yours a second time and as the kiss deepens, a sense of completeness washes over you. In James’s arms, you find the solace and passion you have been yearning for, a promise of love that transcends all else.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me.” You smile back between kisses.

James pulls you even closer, his voice a gentle murmur against your lips. “We have a lifetime to show each other.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of a bustling diner and the warmth of his embrace, you know that no matter the trials ahead, this love will endure, defying all boundaries and transcending every limit.

❁ ❁ ❁

Because at last, there’s noting more freeing than falling itself.

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

Lord, can we take a second and appreciate these images???!! Got me on my knees - and not for praying, I'll tell you this much...

Hello, loves. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. I hope you had fun! Maybe... juuuust maybe if you want to, you could leave a comment or reblog on this post. New fics will be on hiatus until August, I have some real life work to finish. But please feel free to interact and talk to me. I love hearing from you! Take care, and ill talk to you as soon as I can. ~Meg 💗

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @mcu21lover19 @pigeonmama @wilsons-striped-ties @caplanbuckybarnes @rosecentury @somnorvos @almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @blackhawkfanatic @augustbucky @kandis-mom @harleycao @ashhsage @hhiggs @scott-loki-barnes @gabshouse @i-spy-1812 @barnes1031 @am-3-thyst @awkotaco24 @star-buck-barnes @armystay89 @missaprilt23 @rexit-mo @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

2K notes · View notes