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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

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18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

part five

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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miserycanary · 6 months

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TELL ME THAT WE'LL BE JUST FINE ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶ ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the aftermath (inspired by T.S Afterglow)

tags: light angst (no comfort/comfort? who knows)

The door creaks open, the cheeriness that you usually carry to greet Ghost by the entrance of your shared home nowhere in sight. The whole place was eerily quiet with his footsteps the only source of life. “My love..?” he calls out, peeking in the kitchen where you’d usually be sitting with a laptop in front of you, the food forgotten and burning. It’s usually unsalvageable and you guys would just agree on ordering take-out while he soothes and assures you that you don’t have to cook for him.

His long legs quickly take him to the bathroom, hoping he’d see you washing up and offering him to shower along with you. The water would run high as you let him wash you up while chatting about your day, then you'd do the same to him and he complains about the “useless recruits”; the vice versa. Yet, there was no silhouette of you there. With a sigh, he closes the door and approaches the final room.

There, Ghost sees you laying down with your legs huddled close to your chest. He noticed the little hiccups— an indication that you’ve been crying— and that broke his heart. When he watched your figure walk away from him, he knew he fucked up and that he hurt you. Ghost calls for you once again with a gentle voice, trying to coax you. “Y/N..? Baby..?” He approaches the bed. The mattress dips as he sits behind you and placed a heavy hand on the shoulder he saw was developing a bruise. Just the sight of the darkening blemish almost made him throw up. He did this. He did this to you, his darling flower.

After his skin made contact with yours, you flinched and distanced yourself like you’re afraid he’d hurt you again. The way you looked at him was so.. foreign and unusual. Like he was an animal that’s going to attack any minute. He stilled at your reaction, betrayed at how could you even think of him like that. Ghost stayed silent and so did you, only staring at the wall in contemplation. Finally, the silence was cracked by something much worse. At that moment, Ghost would rather endure a century of you ignoring him than to accept the words that came out of your mouth.

“I’m leaving. I talked to one of my friends and she’s letting me stay with her,” you mumbled. The pain shooting through Ghost’s heart was unlike any other. It felt like he lost his heart— because he did. “What..? No, no. Let’s talk, baby,” he begs of you, clasping both your hands with his and peppers it with kisses, yet you only pull away. His lungs seem to not take in any air. Everything you say was inaudible to him. The only thing running through his mind was he was losing you. That he was losing the only thing that made life worth living— worth surviving each day because he knows he’ll always have you to come home to, with a smile so warm and a hug so comforting.

“No! I’m not letting you leave,” he cuts you off. The firmness in his voice sent shivers down your spine but you stood your ground. “Ghost,” you start.

| ‘Don’t call me that. I’m Simon. I’m your Si. Why would you call me Ghost?’

“I’m tired of this, okay? I’m tired of you trying to act like everything will pass and that it could be fixed by just burying it under the mushy lovey stuff. I’m tired of never getting an apology from you because you cannot communicate.”

| ‘I know that. I know I’m not the best at talking but don’t leave me. I’ll do anything. Please’

Ghost stays silent because he knows everything you said was true, while you desperately look at his eyes. The hope that he’d finally muster the courage to talk and ask you to stay was slowly being forgotten. Was this all you’re worth to him? Were you not worth being asked to stay? Won’t he at least try?

“I’m leaving and that’s final.”

| ‘Please don’t let me go, Si. Please tell me you want me to stay and that you’re sorry. That you’d do better. Please just say anything. I’m going to stay with you if you just tell me to. Don’t let this be our end. Fight for me… fight for us’

“Okay,” he whispers, getting up and leaving you alone in the bedroom you usually would say carry the love you guys bloomed for 9 years with the walls painted with your memories and milestones with him. Now it serves as the grave of what you guys were— of what you and Simon had.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: part 2 is here!! I hope it passed people’s expectations.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist: @fictionallifestuff

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley #ghost angst #simon riley cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #canary’s melodies

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phyrestartr · 4 months

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Love Is Not My Right | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 1.1k

#NSFW, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, reader is early thirties, sukuna is mid twenties, reader is a uni prof, sukuna is a uni student, DON'T SLEEP WITH YOUR PROFS IRL PLS THANK YOU, questionable relationship, smut, fluff, angst, self-deprecating reader, soft sukuna?, sukuna has daddy and mommy issues, not edited that much lol IT'S A DRABBLE STFU

tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork (SOZ IF Y'ALL HAVE ALREADY READ THIS HFOHGIOHG JUST REMEMBERED I DIDN'T ADD TAGS)

“Fuck, Teach,” Sukuna groaned. His hips pistoned against yours harder, accentuated by the sharp clap of skin meeting skin. He squeezed your thigh, the one of the leg thrown over his shoulder, before slapping the side of your ass as his head tilted back with a throaty groan.

You, on the other hand, were a trembling mess--and at the hands of your student, no less. Everything about this was uncouth as could be; Sukuna was nearly a decade your junior, he was in your class, and he had zero qualms about the fact that you were his professor. He saw you, decided he wanted you, and would therefore have you.

It was easy saying no in the beginning. He was a typical punk with sharp wit and a sharper tongue--many men like him had made passes at you in the confines of your classroom, but Sukuna had the smarts and charisma to back up his flirtatious remarks and daring whispers.

But, if you were being honest, maybe it was because you'd been engaged twice, un-engaged thrice (long story). Maybe it was because you'd been cheated on and dumped on loop. Maybe it was because you'd given up on romance and sex and everything else and–well, maybe that was why you succumbed to his advances. Maybe you were just sad and lonely, willing to be taken advantage of under the man's misguided thought that you'd give him a better grade if he fucked you good enough. You wouldn't. But he never asked for it, either.

You jumped when another sharp spank sent ripples of bitter pleasure and pinching pain fluttering across your skin. The simple feeling had you clamping down around the man and gasping.

“Itadori-kun–”

“What did I say?” Sukuna groaned, spanking you again and adjusting the leg hooked over his shoulder. “First name.”

Your eyes blurred slightly from the embarrassment and pleasure of it all. “I--but that's–”

“I'm ‘boutta cum in your ass, ‘n you're worried about honorifics?” Sukuna cackled, holding your thigh with both hands as he focused harder on moving his hips faster and faster. “‘M fucking you…in your own fuckin’ bed…and you're–ah–worried about–fuck, you're so fucking good--fuck.”

The searing friction eating you alive tripled in Sukuna's frenzy to reach his second high of the night. You burned alive, shyly crying out as he hit your soft spot over and over, tightening up more and more until you plummeted into your third (fourth? Fifth?) orgasm dealt by Itadori Sukuna's hand. Well, hand, mouth, and cock.

“Sukuna,” you gasped, curling into yourself and subsequently toward him, fisting one hand into his dark hoodie to try and ground yourself against the relentless assault.

His hips stuttered when you called his name. His lips crashed against yours, then, with teeth clacking together and tongue bullying into your mouth as he trembled and slammed in with too-much strength to pour his cum into your core.

“F-fuck. Love that sh-shit,” he stuttered as his stomach tightened and contracted, his eyes rolling back before they fell closed to indulge in the pleasure crashing down on him. But his body's seizing didn't stop his hips from moving–he kept pushing and pushing, hard and sloppy and weak but so, so desperate to jam more and more deeper and deeper into you.

Eventually, when you were both threadbare and burnt out, he pulled out and collapsed beside you with a pleased sigh. You hugged a pillow and fought to catch your breath, but Sukuna, the brat he was, tugged away your life boat to replace it with himself.

You sighed, baffled and exhausted. “Sukuna–”

“What? ‘M allowed to fuck you but not–”

“You–I–we shouldn't be–I shouldn't be doing this,” you argued. “You're too young, I'm your professor. You should be looking for people your own age–”

“Not like I fucking chose this for the thrill,” he scoffed, tucking his arm under his head as he looked at your tired face. “This looks bad on me, too. Looks like I'm tryna fuck good grades out of you.”

You huffed and fixed his hoodie's tangled drawstrings. “You already get good grades. No one would believe that.”

“‘M a fucking genius. Everyone knows,” he agreed with a smirk. “But the other extras in your class? They'll act like it's somethin’ else. They'll jump on whatever the fuck they can to make their own pathetic asses feel less guilty for sucking so hard at life.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help a smile. “Well, this'll look worse on me. Either you did fuck grades out of me, or I'm holding said grades hostage ‘n making you sleep with me lest they suddenly drop.”

Sukuna hummed and slid a hand to your bare waist. “Ho? I like the sound of that. Guess I'll have to try harder to make sure I stay your favourite. I could go for a 4.4."

“Please–don't roleplay that,” you begged, feeling more tired by the second. “Just promise me you'll move on and forget about this after finals. Please. It's in your best interest.”

“Yeah? ‘N what's in your best interest, Teach?” Sukuna wondered. His knuckles brushed against the curve of your cheek, and you felt your heart ache with loneliness. But you'd never admit you wanted this. You'd never admit you wanted a cure for being unlovable.

“Keeping you safe,” you said, pulling his hand from your face and squeezing it tightly, “Is in my best interest. I want you to be happy, to stay out of trouble. And this? This can only breed trouble.”

“Trouble ain't so bad.”

“Sukuna.”

“After finals, ‘m not your student anymore,” Sukuna reminded.

Your face got a little hot. “Don't twist this–”

“Twist it? Tch. It's just facts.” He looped his arms around your smaller frame and tugged you in close. “So I'm gonna keep taking my daddy issues out on you even after the semester ends.”

You had to laugh. “That's–you're a little too self-aware–”

“Pretty sure that's a good thing, no?” He yawned and tugged the blankets up over the both of you. “You're starting to piss me off with all the resistance. Just take it. Like how you take my cock.”

You sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket over the younger man more. “You have a dangerous mouth on you, y’know that?”

Sukuna smirked. “Like hearin' that from you.”

“Right. Well, I need to wash up.” You brushed his hair back against your better judgment. “You need anything?”

The look he sent you made everything ache more; it was something so warm and lazy, half-lidded eyes fighting to stay open as your tender touches lulled him to sleep. It was so strange, the apparent peace you brought to such an explosive soul. It almost made you think this could work.

“Jus’ make sure you come back,” he grumbled before letting his eyes fall closed. “Fucking kill you if you don't.”

You smiled the tiniest bit as you brushed his hair back a few more times. “Promise I will,” you whispered, earning a soft grunt of approval in return.

But as you sauntered to the bathroom, shedding whatever clothes you somehow still had on, you cried.

#male reader insert #sukuna x you #sukuna x m!reader #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #reader insert #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #itadori sukuna x reader

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sanguineterrain · 2 months

Text

most normal thing in the world | jason todd

Summary: You get hit with a love spell. Naturally, the first person you seek out is Jason Todd.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: love spell (so potentially mild dubious consent but all the feelings are reciprocated), lovesick you, lovesick jason, repressed jason, LOTS of cuddling/lovie stuff, needles, magic, pining, happy ending.

the divider

Jason's having a good night.

He made himself an indulgent lasagna, and now he's got leftovers for tomorrow. He's off from patrol tonight, which, he must admit, was nice of Cass to offer.

Yeah, Jason actually feels pretty normal. Feels like any young person would. Hell, he might put on a movie he won't pay attention to, or finally adopt a cat, just to keep the normal streak going. That's what young folks do, right?

(He can think of some other things young people do, things that Jason won't allow himself to dream of.)

Knock knock.

Jason sighs. Well. The streak was good while it lasted.

He gets up, shuffling over in his sweats. He undoes the four locks and opens the door to reveal... you.

"Uh, hey," he says, cracking the door wider. "Everything okay?"

It's late. You shouldn't be out now, even if the sun hasn't gone down yet.

Jason frowns when you sway in the doorway and don't respond.

Then you flash him the sweetest smile he's ever been on the receiving end of. Wow. Sure, Jason's seen you flash your pretty teeth before. But not like this. And not at him.

"Hi, Jaylove. Hi."

"Uh." He watches you walk right past him, into his apartment. He shuts the door. "Hi... What's goin' on? You alright?"

You turn to face him. "Why wouldn't I be? After all, you're here."

"What?"

You walk to him and take his hands in yours. Jason's eyebrows rise.

"Hey...?" Jason says, looking at your joined hands. You lace your fingers together.

"My prince," you say happily. "Your eyes are beautiful. Like emeralds. And you have a beautiful mouth. Your whole face is beautiful. I'd like to paint you."

"Are you on drugs?" Jason releases your hands to hold your face. He gently pushes your eyelids up to inspect your pupils. You just smile.

"I feel high when you touch me," you say. "Just being near you is drug enough."

Yeah, Jason's now feeling a healthy amount of paranoia. It's not that you don't stop by or that you're not nice. No, you're the sweetest creature Jason's ever had the pleasure of meeting.

But wanting to touch him? Thinking he's beautiful? Calling him your prince? Either you're drugged or he's died again and found paradise.

Then again, he probably wouldn't still be in Gotham if this were paradise. You'd definitely be here, though.

"Right. Your eyes are fine." Jason lets go of your face. "You sure you didn't take anything? Drink anything? Run into anyone?"

"I drank tea," you say, gazing up at him. "And I petted a fat orange cat. Don't you want a cat?"

"I surely do. You drank tea?"

"Mmhm. It was almost as amazing as you."

Jason nods and lets go of you so he can take your hand. "Okay. We're going to the Cave."

"How come?" you ask, but you don't protest as he leads you out and into the elevator.

"Because I wanna make sure you're okay," he says, pushing the button labeled one. You're definitely not okay, but he doesn't want to worry you.

"Oh." You lean against Jason's arm. He stiffens and looks down at you. You just burrow into his side. "'Cause you love me?"

Breath catches in his throat. You can't mean that. Do you even know what you're saying? No, impossible.

You look up when he's silent for too long. "Jay-Jay? Didja hear me?"

"Yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, big eyes sweet. "Don't you love me too? I love you."

Jason swallows hard. "I, um, don't think you're in your right mind."

Your lip quivers. Oh, God. No, please don't cry, please don't—

"You don't love me?" you ask, tears welling.

"I do love you," Jason says quickly, panicking at your distress. "I do. Shit. Please don't cry, honey. I do love you."

You frown, cheeks wet. "You're just saying that! You hate me!"

Jason shakes his head. "No, no! Oh, never, I could never hate ya, honest! I was just... um, this is the first time we've said it to each other, y'know? I do love you. Have for a long time now."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, soaking up your tears. You sniffle but accept this, nodding.

"Oh. I'm sure I've told you that I love you before. I love you so much, Jason. I'll never love anyone the way I love you."

God, this is fucking torture. As the elevator reaches the ground floor, Jason takes a deep breath, lets you link your fingers with his, and leads you out to the street. The universe is intent in never granting him a normal night. Noted.

There's no way you're in your right mind. Jason's figured this from the start. But that doesn't make the way you look at him, like he's anybody worth looking at, any less painful.

He pulls out his phone, shoots a quick text to Dick. ETA 10 min.

Dick responds two seconds later. What's up?

Possible Code 12.

Jason pockets his phone, running through potential reasons for what did this to you. Ivy's not wreaking havoc tonight, as far as he knows.

Meanwhile, you're in another world, humming and holding his hand. Jason's thought about this many times, holding your hand and taking you for rides, you adoring him, hugging him, kissing him. He's nothing if not a masochist.

"Okay, sweetheart," Jason says, and you immediately turn to him, like a flower showing its face to the sun. Jason is no one's sun, though. He's more like the worm under your boot.

"Hm?" you ask, stroking his arm. Jason does his best to be normal about it.

"We're gonna, um, go to the Cave. You okay on my bike?"

You glance at his bike, and there's a tinge of apprehension on your face. Jason reaches for your shoulder, stops, then forces himself to touch you. You're not going to recoil from him, not in this state. And he's not doing it for himself; he's only touching you so that you'll let him take you to the Manor and figure out what's what.

He's not a bastard for holding your shoulder, right? He's doing it just so that you'll be safe.

(It doesn't matter. Jason knows he's a bastard for being in your life at all.)

You lean into him when he touches your shoulder.

"Never been on your bike, Jay," you say.

"I know. But I swear to you that you're safe. You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right? Never."

You nod. "Yeah. You always look out for me. 'S part of why I love you so much."

Good God. Jason's going to be a ball of self-hatred for the next millenia over this.

He puts his spare helmet on you, helping you fit the chin guard underneath.

"Okay?" he asks.

You give him a thumbs-up. Jason smiles and puts his own helmet on.

"You gotta hold on real tight, okay? As tight as you can. Don't worry 'bout hurting me."

"Mmkay!"

He helps you mount the bike first, then follows. As soon as he's on, you wrap your arms around his middle and smush your helmet into his back.

How long has he dreamed about this? Taking you on late-night rides, feeling you pressed against him, squealing as he floats through traffic (he'd never speed the way he does when he's alone; Jason doesn't give a shit about his own body, but your safety matters).

"The bike is loud, so I'm not gonna hear you if you say something, but if you want me to stop, tap my shoulder three times, okay?"

"Okay, Jaylove." You squeeze him in what's clearly a hug. "Ready."

Jason's not sure he is. It's been a long time since anyone's touched him, much less someone he's head over heels for. You're so trusting, it makes him ache. Jason's just glad he's the first jerk you laid your eyes upon instead of the magic you're under pushing you into the arms of someone dangerous.

He starts up his bike. Jason's had guests on his bike before, mostly his brothers and, once, the old lady who runs the tea shop down the block.

He's never had a lovely thing like you snuggled up to him, clinging to him. Jason feels rabid. He feels like he needs to be shot and put out of his misery.

He follows all of the road rules so you won't be scared. You don't tap his shoulder or shake, so Jason figures you're fine. He's good. He's being good for you.

Jason slows as he goes down the ramp to the Cave entrance. He stops at the mouth of the Cave and dismounts first, pulling off his helmet.

"You alright in there?" he asks, offering his hand.

You wrap your arms around his neck and Jason wobbles as he recalibrates and snakes an arm around your shoulders instead and helps you off that way. He removes your helmet. You blink at the new light, then look at him, moony-eyed once again.

"I was kinda scared," you admit. "But I trust you, Jaybee. Always."

"Got you here in one piece, didn't I?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh-huh!"

Jason sees what you're going to do before you try. He sees the way you look at his lips, how you rear back, ready to leap and kiss him.

He redirects you immediately, preferring that to making you cry again. He hates it when you cry. Your soft mouth lands on his jaw instead.

Jason smiles, strained. You're annoyed at the fact that you missed, and Jason can see that you're about to try again when Dick and Tim come into view.

He's never been more thrilled to see his brothers.

"Fellow bretheren," Jason says. He knows his voice is thin. "Funny seein' you here."

You're briefly distracted and wave to be polite. But then you force Jason's left ear to your level and catch the lobe between your teeth.

Holy fuck. Jason nearly buckles at the sensation. He's never understood the ears as an erogenous zone before—now he gets it. He's ashamed of how heat pools in his gut as you nip his ear.

Jason balances you with an arm around your waist, gingerly trying to both hide his reaction and separate you. He accomplishes neither. Tim's eyebrows are at his hairline; Dick's mouth is open, no doubt ready to make a smart-ass comment.

"Well, it's nice to see you two so... affectionate," Dick says, holding back a grin.

Jason rolls his eyes. "I need you to run tests. They showed up to my door like this, all over me."

"Yeah, that is weird," Tim says.

"Thank you very much for that, Timbit," Jason grumbles. You kiss under his ear and weave your fingers through his hair. Jason manages to get your hands off, but your mouth is still firmly planted on his neck. He clears his throat. Normal!

"I dunno, Jason," Dick says. "It's not that weird. People fall in love every day."

And, okay. Jason can do teasing. He can even do borderline psychotic remarks. That's part of having siblings. He's made a few in his day. They've all stabbed or shot each other.

But now Dick is just being cruel.

Jason scowls. "Take their blood so we can fucking get this over with. They're clearly under a love spell."

His scathing tone surprises Dick, but it really startles you. You've moved away from his ear (Jason is both relieved and disappointed) and return to cradling his arm. You're alarmed by his reply.

"Jaylove?" you ask. "What happened? Are you mad?"

Jaylove? Jason sees Tim mouth. He forces himself to focus on you, be gentle for you.

"Hm, no, not mad at ya, sweetheart. Sorry 'bout that. But we need to run some medical tests on ya, 'kay? Can we do that?"

"Sure," you chirp, linking your arm with his.

Dick and Tim slip into Work Mode. Jason appreciates that. His nerves are frayed. He senses a self-destructive episode coming on after you're cured. Maybe he'll throw himself into a bar fight tonight.

"Symptoms?" Tim asks, going to the computer.

"Being in love with me," Jason says dryly.

"Besides that. Any physical symptoms like dizziness or nausea? Recklessness?"

"No, didn't notice any sickness. Not reckless; they did everything I said." Jason swallows, says the next part quietly, fearfully. "Probably jump into the Hudson if I asked."

Tim nods sharply. Dick prepares to draw your blood. Again, you're apprehensive. But Jason soothes you, pets you, and you're leaning into him like a cat in its favorite patch of sun as Dick takes your blood.

"I wanna get married," you say as red fills the second vial.

Dick shoots him a sympathetic look. Jason looks away.

"Soon, honey," Jason says, ignoring how his stomach's a pit.

He didn't think about love or relationships when he came back. Didn't care, not when he had revenge to plot.

But after all that was over, after he met you, after he found a reason to keep living, Jason started thinking about it.

And what he realized is that he's never getting married.

By choice? Yes, sure. Jason loves pretending he has a choice in anything. Sure, he chooses to abstain from marriage, like normal people out there do. But really, he avoids attachment it wouldn't be fair to anyone. He knows he's not made for that. His death made him unsalvageable. It's a miracle he's here at all. How dare he ask for more?

And inside, he chokes on a vine of hatred for everyone else who can find someone. Who's capable of loving and being loved. It even, to Jason's shame, has reared its head at you, whispered in his ear about how you're not damaged, so of course you'll find someone one day. Of course you'll leave him eventually. It would be stupid of him to hope otherwise.

"When?" you ask as Dick starts on the third vial. You don't even notice. Dick could probably drain you dry as long as Jason's in front of you. "When can we get married?"

"How 'bout next month?" Jason says without thinking. He would. He'd marry you tomorrow.

You think about this for a moment, then nod. "Yes, that would be good. I've always wanted a fall wedding."

"Yeah? I always liked the idea of marrying in the spring. All the flowers."

"No," you say. "Pollen's out. You'd be sneezing your head off."

Jason laughs, then wants to cry, because you know that he's allergic to pollen.

"Yeah, y'right," he says, voice thick. "Fall wedding's better."

"Alright, all done!" Dick says, forcefully cheerful. He removes the needle and puts a Bandaid on the inside of your elbow. You rest your head on Jason's arm. Jason tries not to boil himself in a fire of misery. You probably won't even remember this.

Dick watches you both, then tugs your hand. "Hey, you mind helping me fill out some info? For the tests."

Your mouth shrivels. You look at Jason, and he can't believe he's your North Star, magic or not.

"I don't wanna leave Jason," you say.

"He'll be right here," Dick says quickly. "Won't leave your sight for a second. But I need your help."

"Just for a minute?" you ask.

Dick nods. "One minute."

You sigh and turn to Jason. "I'll be right back."

Jason nods, tries to smile. "Sure. I'll be here."

He'll be here. Forever and ever and ever...

Wait a second. Tea. Jason jolts.

"Tim. They said they drank tea. Could be something there."

"On it," Tim says. "Dick, we need a mouth swab."

"Right." He turns to you. "Can I—"

"No," you say, and march back to Jason. "You said a minute."

Jason would laugh at the pout on your face, the way you plop yourself next to him and curl around him like he's a new toy. He would laugh. If he could find the humor.

Dick looks at him. Jason sighs.

"Honey?" You hum. "We just need one more test, yeah? Q-tip on your tongue. Not the most pleasant, but it'll be quick. Promise."

"Okay," you say immediately, hugging his arm.

Jason knows it's a spell, or maybe a lab-made chemical. But he's still awed by how quickly you acquiesce. How you show no worry when Dick approaches because Jason's right there, patting your hand.

Dick swabs your mouth. You cough three times after, most of your body on Jason.

"Interesting how they're not lustful," Dick says.

"What," Jason says.

"Okay, the ear thing was..." Dick shrugs. "But it's not mindless. It's actually the most reasonable love spell I've ever seen. Like, their desires for you don't feel manufactured, they feel—"

"Don't," Jason snaps. "Don't fuckin' say it."

Dick holds up his hands. "It was just an observation. You've seen Ivy's pollen doses. This one seems different."

"Fine. Ivy's taking a break from the orgies. Doesn't mean this is real."

Jason's not stupid enough to hope.

"It can't be Ivy," Tim says, and Jason almost startles. He forgot Tim was there, so wrapped up in you. "No reports of Ivy attacks. And the substance, whatever it was, wasn't inhaled. It was injested."

You wrap your arms around Jason's neck and smush your face against his. You're warm and smell good. Jason feels feral.

He holds you with a hand on your back, mind turning.

"Sweetheart," he says. You hum. "You said you drank tea after work. Where exactly did you go?"

"Dunno," you say, spacey. "Went into a tea shop that's never been there before. And an old lady invited me in. She said I looked so sad. And I was, Jaybee! How did she know?"

"Hm. Well, she gave me a tea sample, said it would make all my problems disappear. Then I petted her cat named Darcy. Like that book you like!"

"I don't know, honey," Jason says quietly, even though he has a suspicion. He's never letting you walk home alone again.

Tea shop. That's what he gets for trying to be a good Samaritan. How dare she drug you?

God, Jason just wants to hug you tight and kiss your face. It's awful of him to think of you as cute in your state, he knows.

"Track their routes," Jason says. "They take two different ones home. One crosses Bank Street, the other goes over the bridge."

"I'd call you a stalker but I really have no right," Tim says, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"No shit," Jason mumbles, letting you play with his fingers.

"Jason," Dick says quietly. He glances at you, then at his brother. "If it's too much, we can sedate them."

"No. We don't know how it'll react to the tea. It's not Ivy's brew."

Dick frowns. He knows Jason's right. Jason knows he's right.

"Okay, I got something. Magic signatures from a building on Tenth Street," Tim says. "And I think I'm onto an antidote."

"I'll check it out," Dick says, going to suit up. He looks at Jason. "Are you-?"

Jason nods. "I'm fine. Go."

So Dick does. Tim is able to make an antidote within the hour. He gives it to Jason who injects it into your neck. He feels guilty even though this is what’ll cure you. You wince at the pinch but you don't so much as whimper, endlessly trusting.

"They'll probably crash soon," Tim says, out of your earshot. "I don't know if you should risk the bike."

Jason sighs. Tim's right, and it makes him all the more agitated that his brothers have been helpful and even kind of nice during the whole thing.

You're going to crash soon. Jason has no choice but to bring you up to the Manor.

"Come on, sweetheart," he says, taking your hand and standing.

"Where're we goin'?" you ask, yawning.

"Goin’ t’bed, honey. Aren't ya tired?"

"Hmm. Mmhmm."

"Yeah, thought so."

Jason leads you up the stairs and out of the Cave. He helps keep you steady as you trip up the stairs. He's tempted to just carry you, but he feels like that might be overkill.

Once at the top of the stairs, Jason stops. Swallows.

He hasn't been up here in a while. He slept in his room once after he returned, after a nasty encounter with Scarecrow.

"Wanna sleep in your bed, Jay," you mumble, cheek against his arm.

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Okay, love."

You go to his room. It's clean, as usual—Alfred never let it get dusty. Jason had hoped that if you ever saw his room it would be in much different circumstances. Normal circumstances.

But, well. Here you are.

"Hmm, 's nice," you say as Jason pulls back the bedspread and helps you out of your shoes. You start to take off your pants and he panics.

"Uh! Uh, baby, maybe keep the pants on. You might get cold."

You frown in confusion. "Doesn't feel cold."

"Yeah, but, whew, Alfred blasts the AC! Jus' keep 'em on."

Jason cannot handle seeing you in your underwear. He draws the line there.

"'Kay," you say, and flop onto the sheets. You wiggle around, getting comfortable.

Jason sits in the fat armchair in the corner of the room. Immediately, you sit up.

"Why're you over there?" you ask, eyes wide.

Oh, boy.

"Oh. I was, um, gonna read for a bit. I'll come in in a while."

Your lip trembles. No—

"Don't leave me, Jaybee. Don't leave! Stay with me. I love you!"

Jason rubs his forehead. "Honey—"

"You hate me! You do! I annoy you." Tears gather in your eyes.

Jason hurries to the edge of his bed, climbing in in his jeans and socked feet.

"No, no, love, we covered this. I don't hate ya, hm? Where'd ya get a silly thing like that?"

You quiet as he scoots in beside you. Then you throw most of your limbs over him. Jason stiffens.

"Just got scared," you say, and kiss his chest. "Promise you won't leave?"

Jason breathes in. Breathes out.

"Yeah. I promise."

And he stays.

You wake up with a faint headache and a dry throat. Sunlight peeks through the blinds. You feel warm and safe and well-rested, despite the slight pains.

You stretch, expecting air. Instead, you touch skin. You open your eyes.

Oh. You're in a bedroom.

No, scratch that. You see framed pictures of the Bats, books on shelves.

You're in Jason Todd's childhood bedroom. With the aforementioned tucked under your arm and leg.

You jerk away so hard, you land on the carpeted floor below.

Jason's up instantly, head poking over the bed. His eyes widen.

"Shit! Y'alright? C'mere."

He gets up and practically scoops you into a standing position. Your brain short-circuits: big strong man strong big good nice. Then you recover.

"Um," you say. "Uh. Hmm. Hi."

Jason smiles tightly. "Hey."

"What... how-?"

"Right. How much do you remember?"

You try to think. You remember walking home, drinking tea, an affectionate orange cat. You remember hands on your face and your stomach swooping on a motorcycle and a gentle voice. So gentle.

"You were magicked," Jason says quickly. "It was a, uh, tea shop. Dick's checking it out. You, um, came to me and I took you here and you got an antidote and you didn't want me to, um, leave. So, yeah. Sorry."

You tilt your head. "Why are you apologizing, Jason?"

He sighs. "Just 'cause."

You have no idea what that means. But you feel like Jason's telling you a very condensed version of what happened.

"What was the magic?" you ask.

He winces. "Love spell. You thought you were... in love with me."

Jason says it like he's the one who charmed you. Like he's ashamed of it.

"Oh," you say. Well, you certainly didn't need a spell for that to happen.

"Yeah." Jason's staring at your and his shoes by the door. "But everything's fine now. I can take you home. Dick and Tim'll take care of the tea shop witch."

He doesn't wait for a response, darting to the door and slipping into his shoes. You rush forward and close the door as Jason opens it. He looks at you in confusion.

"Jason," you say softly. "What happened?"

"Whaddya mean? I told you."

"Jason. I've known you for three years. You think I don't know when you're not telling me something?"

He looks at his feet. One of his socks has a hole in the toe.

"There's nothin' to tell," he mumbles. "Magic stuff. Happens all the time. Business as usual."

You frown. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Jay. I admittedly don't remember a lot."

Jason's expression is relief but there's a heaviness to his shoulders. "Well, 's for the best, really. Magic messes with your head."

"Did I make you uncomfortable, Jason? Not letting you leave and—God, I can't imagine how I was on the spell."

He shakes his head fervently. "No! No, no, my God, no. You didn't—you could never—I mean, I wasn't... fuck. No. You didn't make me uncomfortable."

"If you're sure," you say.

He nods. "Hundred percent."

Jason doesn't sound like he's lying. You're pretty good at detecting it, especially when it comes to his feelings.

So why is he acting weird?

Well, duh. A love spell. You probably freaked him out, especially since you really do love him.

"I hope we can still be friends," you offer.

Jason turns to the door.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "'Course we're still friends."

It shouldn't make you ache. Jason's perfectly in the right to not reciprocate how you feel. How can he reciprocate something he doesn’t even know exists?

"You, uh..." Jason scratches the back of his neck. He faces you once more. "You said last night that you were sad. When you were coming home. I just wanted to say, y'know... you can talk to me. 'Bout anything."

This will make all of your problems disappear, she had said. It'd tasted like kombucha—you hadn't had a lot of faith.

Jason begins to open the door. You slide in front of him and slam the door shut with your back. He steps back in surprise.

"Wh—"

"I have to tell you something!" you blurt.

Jason stills. "Okay."

"I adopted you a cat," you say.

He squints. "What?"

"Well, she's still at the shelter but I put her on reserve. Of a sort. I have a friend who works there. She's black and white and likes to cuddle and has two different colored eyes but she can't see very well. Her name is... whatever you want to name her. Because she's yours. And I think you'll love her."

He nods slowly. "I, uh, thanks. Thank you. I was thinking about adopting a—"

"I was sad last night because I kept thinking about how you're gonna love this cat I got you but you'll never love me, and how that's the fucking worst feeling in the world."

You've stunned him silent. Shit.

Seconds tick by. A minute. Two minutes.

"Okay," you say, wanting to jump out of Jason's two-story window. "I'm gonna go drop off the face of the Earth now. Bye."

You open the door. Jason closes it by caging you against it.

And then he kisses you.

Jason pours everything into the kiss. He's not a perfect kisser but it's good. It's magic. He holds your face completely, shuts out the entire world. Kisses the breath out of you.

Yes, you could go on. It's fantastic. It's fireworks. It's sunbeams.

And actually, it feels like the most normal thing in the world, kissing Jason Todd.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #jason todd x gn reader #jason todd x yn #red hood x yn #dc imagine

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parfaitblogs · 3 months

Text

peace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you self isolate, and spencer knows better than to let it get too bad.

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. suicide ideation? ("i want it to end"). depression. lots of stuff that coincides with that. brief mention of reader not eating/having no food. please be aware of your triggers. i think i mention reader as a girl somewhere? word count: 1.9k a/n: i finished this then relistened to peace (taylor swift) which was the og inspo for this, and added a section in the middle so if it feels weird its because i failed at integrating it! this was supposed to be out two days ago. all my relationship insecurities in a fic. lol how embarrassing here's my heart tumblr dot com!! anyways enjoy ily all

also posted here on my ao3 !

Three consistent raps against your front door was the only sound that got you up that day, pyjamas that you had not shed from your body in a week hanging off a frame that could probably be described as lifeless — with the nearly dead-looking face to match.

In fact, the only thing to prove you were still a living human being aside from your movement, was the pink hue around your eyes, on your nose, and above your lips, indicating how much you had cried recently.

Usually, it isn't this bad. You just need a day or two of rotting in your apartment and doing nothing but scrolling on your phone until it died, staring at the wall, or — on the better days — watching reruns of a 90s sitcom that you don't really watch.

But it was exceptionally bad this time around, for some odd reason, and not one part of you actually wanted to get up and out of bed for long enough to be productive about your day. Your phone had died again, after charging it two days ago, which meant you were on day six of no communication with anybody. Which might partly be why it was so bad now.

You had a blanket wrapped around your body, dragging against the floor as you wiped your eyes and let out a small sigh, unlocking your front door and opening it, completely unsurprised by the person standing on the other side.

He was the only one who ever paid enough attention to your disappearing act when you were like this.

His eyes softened at the sight of you — which is kind of amusing, considering you thought you looked like death reincarnate currently.

Neither of you said anything as you stepped aside to allow him in, the door clicking shut behind him as he placed down the leather bag he had slung over his body, turning back to you as he finally allowed the frown to appear — one you knew he would've had the entire way here.

"Have you eaten today?" was the first thing to break the silence — the question coming out so gentle you were sure you'd break down again at some point in the next few seconds.

You wordlessly shook your head, and he nodded his own, saying nothing else as he walked into your kitchen, knowing you'd trail behind him no matter what.

He opened your fridge first, before closing it when he was greeted with the alarming sight of nothing. Doing the same with your pantry, at which he turned around to look at you.

"Angel, you have no food," he said. And while it held no malice in the tone of his voice, you could tell he was slightly annoyed at the fact. Your heart ached.

"I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled, and his eyebrows creased inwards.

He didn't mention your apology — arguing with you about your vast use of 'sorry's' is futile. "Do you want a pizza?" he asked instead, and even though you, mentally, did not, you knew he wasn't actually asking. So you only nodded your head, and found a place at your countertop, the blanket falling from your body and pooling to the ground in a heap.

He ordered a pizza, and then he was nudging your knees apart, standing between them while you stayed sat on a stool, his chin atop your head, that was buried into his chest.

And he said nothing, as he held you like that until the pizza arrived. And then he ensured you had at least eaten two slices, the remainders going in your fridge for the next meal you needed to eat.

He was so kind to you, with his every movement, as he dragged you into the bathroom to help you shower.

It was heartbreaking, the love you could see in his eyes. The tenderness in every stroke of his fingers against your scalp as he washed your hair, the softness in his touch as he did the same to your body. He gently dried you, told you to stay there, disappeared, and returned with one of his many t-shirts left in your apartment drawers.

That was when you cracked. When he pulled the shirt over your head, that smelled so painfully Spencer and you. The mix of his clean scent and your own laundry detergent that you were so accustomed to, triggering something in you.

So, you crumpled to the floor of your bathroom, and he followed soon after, his arms wrapped around your body once more, firm enough to keep you still as you sobbed into his chest.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that for. Long enough for your head to hurt, and your eyes to sting, and hideous snot bubbles to stain his cardigan.

When your sobs subsided, he spoke.

"You wanna talk about it?" he said, quietly, and you shook your head.

"Don't know what to talk about," you mumbled, and he knew that all too well.

He nodded his own head. "Did something happen?"

"Lots of little things."

"Yeah? You wanna tell me about them?"

You hesitated, because you didn't know where to begin. But then you nodded your head wordlessly, swallowing the lump — and, by extension, the sob — in your throat. "I fell down on the stairs at the train station in front of everybody. And then I missed my stop, and I was late to work. And I had a huge project due, but I didn't finish it, and I forgot I hadn't finished it, and I was anxious about it all day. And I think my friends are just pretending to be my friends, because I keep trying to make plans with one of them, and she keeps blowing me off for her boyfriend. And I'm just really sick of being sad all the time, Spencer. I want it to end."

With the onslaught of your bad vignettes throughout the past month coming back up, you broke down, again. Another sob escaping your lips as you pushed your fists down into the tops of his thighs.

If it hurt, he didn't say anything; simply continued to hold you against his chest, on the floor of your bathroom, that, if it were any other time, he would be having a field day rambling about the germs you both were currently sitting on.

He also didn't say anything for a while as you sobbed, instead his fingers entangled gently in your hair, and he peppered kisses along the top of your head.

"I don't want it to end for you," he finally said. His hands slid down from your scalp to your face, holding your cheeks with such tender, pulling you back so he could look at you.

You sniffled. "I'm so exhausted."

"I know, my love. I know," he sighed, thumbs caressing over your cheekbones. "Ending it won't fix that. You know, logically, however you die is the state you'll be in, in the afterlife. So if you die while you're exhausted..."

"You don't believe in the afterlife," you answer, but his words still cracked through your tearful expression, and your lips twitched with a small smile.

He returned the small smile, nodding his head. "That's true. But I also don't know anything about post-death. I could be wrong."

"How terrible," you mutter, and he laughed, quietly.

"I know," he mused, falling silent for a few moments longer, with only both of your quiet breathing to break the silence.

His fingers ran through your hair once more, and you sniffled audibly, your brain wandering away from the small content you had felt in that exchange, and back to one of the many reasons why you had isolated in the first place.

"Why are you still with me?" you said, slicing through the silence all at once.

You watched the smile fall, and his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips part as he went — and hesitated — to say something. "What do you mean?"

"I'm difficult." Your voice is impossibly small, and it breaks a crack in his heart as his eyes soften.

"No. You're not," he reassured.

"Yes I am," you breathed out — and then the tears came back. "I get sad and then I stop responding and stop seeing you, and you don't get any warning even though I know you should, and I feel so awful every time but then that makes me feel worse. And I'm sad all the fucking time, Spencer. I mean, I get upset when you aren't at home and you have to deal with all those messages and calls even though you hate texting, but then you get home and I'm isolating myself because I'm sad, on top of all the other things that make me sad, and you deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you their all and—and—"

"Hey," he cut you off, as did the sob that was ripped from your throat. "No. That's not what we're going to do. Do not sit there and tell me what I do and don't deserve."

"But you do deserve better."

"No," he sighed, resting his forehead on your own, warm breath fanning across your face that usually made you scrunch your face up and pull away, now comforting you. "Do you love me?"

"What? Yes, of course I do. Why would you even—"

"—That is the only requirement I have for you," he said, oh so simply. When you didn't reply, he pressed, "Okay?"

"Okay," you murmured, and he relaxes a little.

More silence fell between you, your tears subsiding and your shaking body relaxing a little more.

Then, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell down?"

You nodded your head, reluctantly pulling back from him so you could show him. You pointed to a yellowing bruise just below your knee, and the grazes on the bottom halves of your palms.

"Oh, wow. Look at these," Spencer said, running a thumb gently over the grazes on your hands. "You're braver than me. These would've taken me out."

You laughed, and you saw his face light up at the progress he was making with you, and your mood.

He then pulled you back into his chest. More silence, but less anxiety, and you sat comfortably in his arms for a few moments longer.

"Did I worry you?" you say. "Not responding?"

You were so close to him you could hear his breath hitch, and you prepared yourself for a lie about how he wasn't worried at all. Except; "Honestly? Yes."

"Oh."

He exhaled, shakily, and you were kind of glad he couldn't see your sadder expression, half-buried into his chest.

"You've never gone that long without checking in," he then explained. "The first two days I got what was going on. By the fourth I figured you still needed space. Today I just had a gut feeling."

"Just a gut feeling?" you echoed, and you felt his head nod against your own.

"Thought you might need someone."

You sighed. "I hate that you're a genius."

"No you don't."

"No, I don't."

His fingers entangled in your hair again. "I also didn't figure you needed me here because I'm a genius."

"No? Then how?" you asked.

"It's simple," he murmured, tugging your head back oh so gently so he could look at you again — puffy eyed, and tear-stained cheeks and all. "I just know."

"That's the most illogical sentence I've ever heard leave your mouth."

He laughed, and you smiled again.

"Come on," he then said, untangling your limbs and pulling the both of you up to your feet, hands ghosting your waist to hold you steady. "I am willing to sit through whatever awful movie you want me to watch."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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bellaxgiornata · 1 month

Text

You Promised

Pairing: husband!Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/tags: 18+; shower smut, oral m!receiving, that damn crucifix necklace, and a little bit of choking

Summary: Matt is a giver, he always has been. He's also terrible when it comes to asking for what he wants–but that changes tonight.

a/n: I was inspired by the Born Again trailer shower scene, like everyone else, but I tried to resist writing anything with all the smut already coming out. But after poor Matt was pleasuring everyone else in showers all week, I figured he needed his turn in the shower. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Hot steam filled the air around you, fogging up the glass of the shower door. Only half of you remained beneath the spray of the showerhead as warm, wet droplets trailed down your back in rivulets. A chill seeped into you from the inside out at the contrast of Matt's damp and slightly cool body pressed to the front of yours.

Matt was usually always so deliciously warm, but the difference in temperature between him and the water cascading down the back of you had long since caused your nipples to stiffen. With your breasts currently crushed against his firm chest, you knew that sensation alone was driving him wild because you knew how much he enjoyed toying with your nipples–with either his mouth or his fingers. But tonight you were aiming to do more than just drive him wild; you wanted him to fall apart. You wanted him to stand there with his back against the tiled wall of the shower while he let you take care of him. You wanted to hear him crying out in ecstasy like he always made you, and you wanted him to be the one to vocalize what he wanted for once–what he needed.

Because after all, he'd promised you that tonight.

Mouth attached to his neck, you sensually sucked at the skin just below his jaw. It was a spot that you knew from past experience always had an effect on him, which was proven when he loosed a soft whimper just above your ear. The noise drew your lips into a smile against him, releasing the skin from your mouth before shifting over towards the chain of his crucifix. You nipped at the sensitive skin above it with your teeth, satisfied when his head finally dropped back against the shower wall behind him with a groan, giving you further access to his neck. Your tongue slid out between your lips, the tip of it dragging along him, teasing him as you tasted the bit of salty sweat still lingering on his skin from his night out in the suit.

As your mouth paid careful attention to his neck, your left hand continued to attentively roam his body. It traveled up through the hair along his forearm, the tips of your nails catching the fine, dark hairs beneath them before dragging their way past his bicep and towards his toned chest still slick from the shower's spray. But your right hand remained busy brushing across the dampened and sensitive skin just above his cock, right at the start of where his thick, dark pubic hair formed. You'd been intentionally making slow passes from left to right and back again with your flattened palm for a few minutes now, your mouth trailing slow, tender kisses that followed the length of the gold chain as you took your time.

Matt's cock had long since stirred awake beneath your attention. It had been noticeably pressing harder and harder into your thigh, begging you not to be ignored. But that's exactly what you were doing right now. Because Matt was supposed to be telling you what he wanted tonight–learning to say what he needed instead of always giving and giving. You wanted him to learn that he could also take.

This was about him.

“Sweetheart,” Matt whispered. “Please?”

Nuzzling your face into his neck, you brushed your nose back and forth along his pulse point. You weren't going to make this easy for him because he needed to learn to use his words and verbalize what he wanted. You wanted to hear him say it for once; he needed to learn once and for all that he was allowed to want things too.

Matt's hands which had been settled along your hips suddenly gripped the damp flesh when the tip of your nose bumped into his jaw, his hands yanking you somehow closer to him. A shudder ran up your spine in response, goosebumps dotting your skin as the warm water overhead continued to race down your back. His tight hold on you had felt good, reminding you of all the times he'd bent you over the back of the leather couch or the bed as he fucked you with such vigorous fervor. Wetness that had nothing to do with the shower dripped down between your thighs.

But he wasn't supposed to be doing that to you.

“Matty,” you warned. “You promised, remember?”

“But sweetheart,” Matt protested, his voice pitching up into a whine. “I can't. I just–just need to taste you. Let me taste you, please, angel?”

You withdrew your face from his neck, your right hand pausing its movement above the patch of his damp pubic hair and instead resting along his skin. “What you need to do is let me take care of you, Matt,” you reminded him. “This isn't about me. You're supposed to be telling me what you want tonight.”

A defeated groan flew from his lips, his head once more falling back against the tiled wall behind himself as he loosened his grip on your hips, his blunt nails no longer deliciously biting into your skin. You felt an uncontrollable heat stir inside of you at the sight of him before you now, though. His eyes were closed, his bearded jaw tensed as he clearly fought his own urge to push you back into the tile instead. You had no doubt he was struggling with the increasing scent of your arousal filling the shower. You knew the effect it always had on him. But you didn't want him between your thighs like that, not tonight.

“That's it, Matty,” you praised, enjoying the way the corners of his lips twitched. “That's my good Devil.”

You leaned back in towards his neck, placing a soft kiss just below his jaw. You felt a shudder race through him, a faint whimper slipping out between his lips.

“Now tell me–” you whispered into his skin, moving your mouth lower to place a gentle kiss at the base of his throat, “–what you want.”

Your mouth moved lower, taking the gold crucifix between your teeth and giving it a light tug along his neck. Glancing up, the gold cross still between your teeth, you were pleased to see his eyes had tightened further shut. He was going to cave soon, you could feel it in the way his muscles had tensed against the front of your body. Your right hand dipped a bit lower, the tips of your fingers brushing lightly past the base of his cock.

“Touch me,” he begged, finally breaking. “I need you to touch me, sweetheart. Please.”

Dropping the crucifix from your teeth, it fell back onto his chest just as your right hand gripped the girth of him. A satisfied smile spread across your lips as you gazed back at Matt. His eyes had opened, their focus somewhere just past your shoulder as a flush crept into his cheeks. Your hand began to stroke him, thumb intentionally circling the tip of him when you’d reached it.

“This good, Matty?” you whispered.

“A little faster,” he replied, voice tight.

Following his instruction, your hand quickened its pace, your thumb occasionally pausing to circle the sensitive spot along his head. It wasn’t long before a deep rumble vibrated straight from his chest and right into yours. You felt your cunt pathetically squeeze around air, a thrill shooting through you. Matt’s bottom lip immediately caught between his teeth as he attempted to stifle a soft cry that still managed to escape his mouth. You knew he'd heard that and you knew he was struggling to refrain from slipping his fingers inside of you in return. Instead, his hands had once more increased their pressure against your hips, the heat of them hard to ignore as they nearly burned your skin.

“What else do you want, Matthew?” you questioned.

Your hand continued to stroke his cock as you waited for his reply. With every few pumps of your fist around him, you caught the way his hips would occasionally jolt forward into you. A pleased hum sounded in your throat. This was getting closer to what you'd wanted to see.

“Kiss me,” he ordered.

Without wasting a second, your other hand left its place along his chest and grabbed him by the chin. You tugged him towards yourself, connecting your lips to his in a heated passion. The beard he’d recently grown and you’d quickly come to love pleasantly scratched against you as your mouths moved in sync, the feeling beginning to drive you a little over the edge. As if he could tell, Matt’s mouth began attacking yours more earnestly, a low moan sliding into your mouth when your tongue slid into his.

The kiss quickly grew into something desperate, growing need causing Matt to begin roughly biting at your lips with his teeth. Taking cues from the way he’d begun rutting forward into your hand, you increased the pace with which you continued to work him over. But when your thumb swiped across the sensitive tip of his cock this time, Matt broke away from your lips and another deep moan barrelled straight out of his chest, echoing around the tiles of the shower.

“Ah–fuck ,” Matt ground out between his teeth. “Need more.”

Breathing hard, your eyes met his darkened ones. His chest was heaving against yours, his own breath coming in sharp pants now. His gaze was fixed around your chin, a fierce look of desire burning inside of them. You relished the sight of it because this was a Matt you had not often seen before.

“Tell me what you need,” you whispered. “Go on.”

“Mouth,” he nearly growled out. “Your mouth.”

“Like this?” you asked, feigning innocence.

You leaned down towards his collarbone, dragging the flat of your tongue across the length of it as your right hand finally came to a stop. Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you watched as his eyelids fluttered, a muscle tensing in his cheek.

“Or like this?” you breathed out.

Trailing a few open-mouthed kisses just a bit further down, you paused to clamp your teeth onto part of his chest, right beside his nipple. A hiss of pleasure shot out between Matt’s teeth in response and you grinned at the sound.

“Is that what you meant, Matt?” you asked coyly.

You watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his head shaking once.

“No,” he ground out.

“Then Matty–” your tongue delicately swiped at his hardened nipple, your pleased smile growing when he squirmed against you, “–say it.”

“Sweetheart,” he whined in protest. “Don’t you want me to get you off? Wouldn’t–wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“Oh, I’m enjoying this plenty,” you assured him.

His eyes snapped shut when your lips sucked his nipple into your mouth next, your tongue swirling around the peak. You could feel his cock throbbing in your right hand where it had remained motionless, waiting for him to finally say what you knew he wanted. For a minute he remained silent instead, continuing to squirm against the shower wall as you lapped at his nipple. Eventually a string of curses passed his lips in a rush the moment your teeth raked over him.

“I want your mouth on my cock,” he growled out, his voice bordering on the Devil’s deep snarl. “I want you swallowing my cum.”

Releasing his nipple from your mouth, you shot him a satisfied smile as you gradually began to lower to your knees before him in the shower. Dragging the nails of your left hand down his torso as you went, you delighted in the way his abdominal muscles twitched at your touch.

“There you go, Matty,” you purred. “There’s my big bad Devil.”

Sitting on your knees, you were finally face to face with Matt’s erect cock. Hands running up and down his thick thighs, you licked your lips in anticipation as you admired the sight before you. He rarely ever let you suck his cock because he was always too busy fucking you with it if his mouth wasn’t damn near glued to your cunt. But now it was all yours to enjoy, and you were going to revel in every sound that passed his beautiful lips as you did.

Right hand gripping the base of him, you leaned forward and lightly circled your tongue around the tip. Above you, Matt emitted a throaty groan, the sound raising the small hairs on the back of your neck. Refraining from lunging forward and taking him all at once, you licked up the length of him painfully slow with the flat of your tongue, wondering just how good that had felt with his senses when his head slammed back into the shower wall with a soft thump as he inhaled sharply between his teeth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he panted out. “Don’t stop.”

As you continued to lightly lick up the length of him, Matt’s breathing began to fill the shower as it came in sharper and faster. The sound was unexpectedly building the heat between your legs, your left hand unable to resist slipping between your thighs. Eyes slowly closing, two of your own fingers began circling your clit, your back arching at the jolt of pleasure that raced up your spine. No longer able to resist, you took him into your mouth, a soft moan vibrating around his cock.

You felt something brush gently against your cheek and your eyelids fluttered back open. Once more looking up from beneath your lashes, you saw Matt’s head had tilted forward along the tiled wall. He was staring down at you with hooded eyes and a crease between his dark brows as his hand tenderly stroked your cheek while you sucked his cock.

“Are you–touching–yourself?” he asked between heavy breaths.

Unable to respond verbally, you hummed in answer. A sharp whine fell out of Matt next, your fingers increasing their pressure against yourself as you observed his reaction. Focusing your attention on the head of his cock, you felt Matt’s hand slide its way down your cheek and past your jaw until it encircled your neck. He squeezed with just enough pressure for you to feel it, a resounding growl filling the steamy shower as he did.

“Put two fingers inside of yourself,” he suddenly ordered. “Now.”

A ripple of satisfaction flooded you. Obeying his command, you slid your fingers between your damp folds before slipping them inside of yourself.

“I want to hear you–” he broke on a moan, his head once more falling back against the shower wall. “Want to hear you fuck yourself with them.”

Kneeling on the floor at Matt’s feet, you continued to suck his cock with a renewed enthusiasm while your fingers began to pump in and out of yourself, the wet sound loud even to your own ears. You could tell Matt was getting close now by the way his thighs had begun to shake and how frequently you’d started hearing his broken whines above you. The walls of your cunt tightened around your fingers at that knowledge, another one of your moans vibrating around his cock.

“Ahh–” he hissed out. “Can almost taste you from here.”

“Mmm,” you hummed in answer, aware how much he always enjoyed the vibration.

“Shitshitshit,” Matt breathed out in an unbroken string immediately. “That’s it sweetheart, just like that. I'm–almost there.”

You continued to pump your fingers faster into yourself, your own legs trembling along the floor of the shower. Matt's hips began to visibly fight the urge to rock forward into you, causing you to take him further into your mouth with a pleased hum.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt groaned, his voice breaking on each word. “Just–like– that!”

On the final word, you felt Matt’s warm release flood your mouth. Not remotely letting up as a high-pitched, drawn out cry flew out of him, his hand still gripping your neck, you worked him through the rest of his climax. Greedily you swallowed down every salty bit of him like you’d been starved for the taste. You weren’t sure when he’d allow you the pleasure of this again, and that thought had you soon cumming on your own fingers, one last pleasured moan vibrating along him as he filled your mouth.

When both of you were finally spent, a haze of contentment washed over you along with the warm shower spray. Slipping your fingers out from inside yourself, you released his cock from your mouth with a soft, wet noise. Licking your lips, your attention returned to Matt’s face above you, and you were delighted to find a blissful, pacified smile drawn over his own lips.

“So, was that worth keeping your promise?” you asked him.

“Mmm,” he hummed back, nodding his head sluggishly. “Mhmm. Maybe I should promise that more often.”

“You absolutely should,” you agreed.

Slowly rising back up to your feet, you felt satisfied to see the way he was leaning back against the wall behind himself–as if he needed it to help hold himself upright. After his night out as Daredevil and that explosive release he'd just had, you figured he probably did.

“But I think now,” you continued, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him away from the wall and into your arms, “you’ve earned your shower and some sleep. What do you think?”

Matt’s arms encircled your waist in return, his forehead coming to rest lightly against yours as the pair of you both now stood beneath the showerhead. He bumped his nose affectionately against yours, his tired smile growing further.

“I think that sounds like a great idea, Mrs. Murdock,” he whispered.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ethereal-blaze @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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kaysungshine · 1 month

Text

Redamancy: Part II ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full

(If you haven't read part one, you definitely should!)

{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (bestie!jisung)

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/a/f trifecta, now friends to enemies to lovers, pining

{ Synopsis } - Things are awkward now, you're avoiding each other. In fact you distanced yourself from the entire group. What happens when Ji confronts you? What happens when Chan does a 180 and tries to befriend you? And what happens when Chan finally has you alone in his room?

{ WC } - 14.3k (I am so sorry 🥺) + 2 screenshots

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, lowkey POV switch , lots and lots of angst, eventual smut & fluff, swearing, use of babygirl, multiple nicknames for members, choking, drinking, bestie jisung crying, hyunjin being a logical romantic, y/n being a little toxic but learning from it, they're honestly both a lotta stupid, oral(f. receiving), dry humping, hickeys and bruising, questionable breath play (please research if you plan on doing this, do it safely), chans nipples are sensitive, he's just sensitive in general with y/n, fingering, needy chan, members teasing, talk of edging, talk of bdsm, these two are VOCAL as hell, so lots of moaning, groaning, whining, whimpering, mewling, and dirty talk during sex, unprotected sex (piv), pull out method (again don't do this, practise safe sex), much cringe, much awkward, but they overcome it (LMK if I forgot any, I'm sorry)

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - Alright almost a month later, and I finally finished part two!! Please don't hate meeee, I beg your forgiveness, please. It took me a while because I just couldn't stop writing and adding things. Editing also took FOREVER, because I wasn't confident that it would satisfy you guys. I'm still not sure. So I apologize if this didn't live up to your expectations, again, please be gentle with me ♡. Understand that this is only my 2nd SKZ fic, so I'm still learning about how to portray each character, and how to piece things together seamlessly!

Chan was starting to worry. It had been almost two weeks and he still hadn't seen you, nor heard from you. It wasn't like you two really spoke outside of questioning the other about Jisungs' whereabouts. There were the occasional texts, again about Jisung. He didn't know what to say to you to begin with. Apologize? He already did that, and it only seemed to make you more upset. But that was in the moment, and both your emotions were on overdrive.

The other members were starting to notice your absence, questioning Han about it. Asking if you were okay. You'd even started avoiding all the public areas at the building. No one was even sure if you were eating during the day, or there at all. You didn't go to the cafeteria, break rooms, or practise rooms. No one caught you in the lounge areas, elevator, or the stairwell. No one even saw you coming into or leaving the building. It was to the point where Hyunjin was nearly planning steakout missions with Jisung. And poor Ji. He only got to see you twice since that night. A drastic decrease in comparison to how often he usually spends time with you. Chan only knew that because he overheard him talking to Minho about it. That was all he heard before Han noticed him standing there, and left for his room, sending him a spine chilling glare along the way.

And Chan knew it really was all his fault when Minho just gave him a curiously sad look, and patted him on the shoulder. You obviously said something to Han, who said something to Minho. He wonders who else knows how bad he messed up.

He was racking his brain trying to figure out how to fix this. Never in a million years had he thought he'd actually get a chance to experience such a quintessential moment with you. He'd liked you for so long, it was starting to turn into more than that. Ever since he'd seen you helping a new trainee navigate the building, he grew interested in your kind heart first and foremost. He's sure he's been through all the emotions. Excitement, because you started hanging around with them and you fell right into the dynamic so easily. Anxiety, because he didn't know how to approach you at first. Jealousy, when Han got all of the attention from you. Anger, when he thought you and Han started dating secretly. Embarrassment, when he realized how wrong he was. Hope, when you two shared a hug, even though it was a very awkward hug. Despondent, when he still couldn't figure out how to act around you, letting whatever growing friendship you two had begun, stall. And now regretful. But not regret for kissing you, touching you, or nearly fucking you. No, regret that he had stopped.

Such a beautiful moment, where he was truly lost in bliss. And he halted it. He let his anxiety get to him, his internal conflict wouldn't shut up.

He truly was worried about the technicality of it all. The rules, the company, the media, the fans. Worst of all, you would receive the brunt of it. He didn't know how to protect you from it all. He was constantly going back and forth in his head. How could he make it work? Would you even want to make it work? Did you even like him? What did you think about him exactly?

He wasn't blind. Every once in a while he'd catch your eyes on him for a little too long. Any 'accidental' physical contact you had with him would linger. And he knew there was a certain smile you'd reserved just for him. Not to mention, you were always the first to reach out directly, and make conversation with him. He was always too afraid to. He felt like a coward. And when he finally had the courage to make a move, a bold move, a ravenous move... His ego suddenly deflated when he realized his actions could be taken the wrong way.

He panicked.

He doesn't want you to think that he just wants sex from you. That you're just a fling. A one night stand. A hookup. No he wanted to do it the right way. He wanted to take you on a date, he wanted to learn more about you, to meet your friends. He wanted you to meet his family, to meet Berry. He even fantasized about planning a special date to ask you to be his girlfriend. He fantasized about anniversaries, about holidays spent together, a life spent together. He wanted to give you the world. He fell for you hard. And in that moment, he felt like he was doing it all backwards. So he stopped. It nearly killed him, but he stopped. And he should've done anything, quite literally anything else but stop.

When he saw the spark in your eyes dimming, only to be replaced with apprehension. He immediately apologized, and spat out a quick blurb about being inappropriate.

Your entire face just sunk, and he shut down. There was nothing more he could say about it, not in that moment. And he felt even worse when you said you understood, but he didn't let it show. You didn't understand, not really. There was no way in hell you could, and he desperately wanted to just spill everything that second. But he wanted to be sober, wanted you to be sober, so instead he told you to drink water. And go to bed.

What the hell was wrong with him.

He even made sure to wake up early the next morning, anticipating to somehow get the chance to talk to you. When you came running down the hall, he was sure that it was fate. The chance that you two had alone time this early was perfect. He had hoped that this would all be sorted out. If he confessed, maybe you would too. Then he could explain last night, and you two could talk about it. And if it didn't work out like that, at the very least he could try to preserve your friendship. It would be painful to remain just friends, but he didn't want you out of his life. He couldn't imagine that. He doesn’t think he could handle that. After he greeted you, he noticed your eyes had tears in them. You were starting to hyperventilate, and tremble.

Then you were leaving.

Even though he's come up with world class lyrics, he seemed to be failing with his words lately. He didn't ask if you were okay, or what was wrong, or breach the topic that was clearly needing clarification. No, instead, he followed up with asking if you wanted breakfast.

You didn't even look at him. The tone of your voice was glacial, freezing him right to the spot. He'd never heard you sound like that. He just stood there, watching the door close. Listening to your car start, listening to you drive off. And then he stood there more, afraid to move.

When Jisung came running out 15 minutes later, he was still standing there. Han saw your things were gone, and knew that you left. Chan only decided to move when Han uttered five angry words to him.

'You really fucked up, Chan.'

He knew he did. And he didn't know where to begin to fix it...

"--Channie-hyung!"

He whipped his head up, and found Jeongin snapping his fingers in front of face, trying to get his attention.

They'd been at dance practice, taking a break. He only then realized that he'd zoned out the entire time, not eating, not grabbing water, not even sitting down. Just recounting his mistakes, and dwelling on them. Now it was time to get back to work.

Jeongin was giving him a strange look, but he didn't dare question him. In addition to messing things up with you, he'd been too on edge. Snapping at one too many people. He didn't want to risk Chan blowing up on him next.

"Where's Hannie and Hyune?" Chan questions.

"Probably still in the cafeteria..." Minho responds, giving him a knowing look.

Minho was the one keeping both him and Han in check at the moment. He felt bad for forcing him into a position like that, considering he was Chan's younger member. Even if it's just one year. Having to be a mediator daily between his two brothers, he knew it must've taken a toll on him. But he never complained, and Chan was grateful nonetheless.

Chan nodded, and went to grab water from his bag. As he was chugging it, Jisung came into the room and went straight to Minho. Furiously whispering at him, pushing his hair back. Hyunjin trailed in not long after, his eyes darted to Chan, but looked away quickly.

"What's going on?" Seungmin asked.

Minho just put his hand up to him, and the younger one scoffed. He turned to Felix, "The hyungs are acting fucking weird lately."

Felix hummed in agreement, as he continued massaging Changbin.

"Aye, I don't know what's going on either, don't group me in." Changbin grunted.

Chan hesitantly approached the bickering pair, and the look Minho now gave him was one of warning. But it was too late.

"It's all your fault." Han spat at him.

"Excuse me?" He bit back, not expecting such an outburst from him.

Hyunjin quickly jumped up to try and get between them and explain, "We saw y/n in the cafeteria toda-"

"She isn't coming over this weekend again. And she's not letting me over to hers either. She wants to be alone. I wonder why." Han interrupts, crossing his arms.

The room was eerily quiet. Everyone knew something was up, that much was obvious. The fact that Han was slightly vague though, it gives Chan the idea that the exact details remain relatively private.

"Is she still here?" Chan whispers through clenched teeth, holding fierce eye contact with Han, but he's getting more daring.

"She's about to leave. YOU," Han pointed to Chan, poking his finger right into his chest, "need to figure your shit out, and stop playing around. Fix. It."

"HAN JISUNG." Minho yells sternly, "You need to stop being so disrespectful. No matter the situation, remember who you're talking to. Let's take a walk."

He drags Han out of the room, and down the hall.

Chan was left standing there, ears burning and fists trembling at his sides. It was safe to say practice was done early for the day. So he quickly dismissed everyone, and was the first to leave.

He found himself searching for you throughout the building, with no luck. Until the elevator doors opened, he stepped on with his head hung down. So consumed in his own thoughts again, he didn't realize the other person at first.

When he lifted his head to finally greet them, he was faced with you. You refused to even look at his way, choosing to face straight forward at the exit.

"Y/n..." He managed to croak out, weakly.

Silence, still. As soon as the doors opened, you rushed out. He was stuck standing there again.

It was early Friday night, and you were already wrapped in the blankets on your bed. Aimlessly scrolling and tapping on tiktok, not even really paying attention to any of the videos.

You weren't used to spending this much time alone, not anymore. You wanted to go see the people who you realized felt like home to you, especially in this foreign country. But you didn't want to deal with the fallout of the oldest. Jiji did beg to come over... You'd been missing him so much. You'd been missing everyone so much, even your co-workers.

Most of the work you do can be done from home, on your personal pc or work laptop. The majority of your co-workers had periods of time where they wouldn't set foot into the building for weeks at a time. You knew it wouldn't be weird to them if you worked from home for a while. So you've been opting to do that, only going into the building if you absolutely needed to.

Until today that is. At nearly 4 in the morning you were cc'd on multiple emails. The constant dinging woke you up. There was a huge issue with a group's new M/V. Footage was corrupted, drafts were deleted, and it had already passed the deadline. They needed all hands on deck. You were in such a rush to come in, you didn't bring any food or drinks with you. You had arrived about an hour after receiving the email, so by the time afternoon rolled around, you needed to get something in your system. Thankfully the major issues had been solved, but now came the fine tuning. You could finish up at home, but truthfully you missed being out and about. Even if it was just at work.

You reluctantly made your way down to the cafeteria, thinking you'd be safe because you know SKZ's schedule for today. You knew they'd be in dance practice. Oh how surprised you were when Jisung nearly tackled you to the ground. He was on you as soon as you came down the stairs to the main level. Your heart hurts when you see the glossy look in his eyes, paired with sadness. Hyunjin was right next to him, trying to pry him off of you and avoid a scene. Instead you pulled him into a group hug, which he eventually accepted, wrapping his arms around the both of you.

They both badgered you with questions. Asking where you'd been, what happened, if you were mad at them. You were honest with them, and nearly broke down again. You weren't okay. You were hurt, and angry. But you assured them that you weren't angry with any of them, besides one obviously. And even though Jiji didn't bring up Chan exactly, or that night, you did. You started ranting about how stupid you felt for what happened. You've been holding it all in for the longest time, the words were rolling off your tongue effortlessly.

You could see that at first, Hyunjin was a little shocked and confused. Possibly embarrassed judging by his pink tinted cheeks. But he held your other hand, that Ji wasn't holding, supporting you either way. You couldn't begin to express your appreciation. You'd half expected all the members to know exactly what happened. You also figured they'd side with Chan, and be upset at you for cutting off all contact basically. Considering Hyunjin didn't know what happened, you knew that wasn't the case. Relief washed over you slightly.

It would be better if less people knew, less people to pick sides. In the grand scheme of things, this was only really between two people. There was no need to involve anyone else directly. On top of that, you'd never ask any of them to pick your side, not only because you know where you'd stand compared to their leader. You also wanted to avoid negative drama, and any arguments that might start with them.

Jisung begged you to come over tonight. Said that they would figure it out, that he would take you to his room even. He tried to make you laugh saying he'd even hang a sign saying 'no Chan's allowed' on his door. But you refused, not wanting to create uneasy tension, or make anyone feel uncomfortable in their own home.

He then offered to come over and have a night just the two of you, and as tempting as it was, you found yourself wanting to be alone. Your go to method for self soothing was always solitude, even if it wasn't always healthy.

You could see him deflating the more you denied his offers to spend time together. The anxiety was growing in his eyes. Knowing him, he was fearing that this was the end of your friendship. That simply could never happen.

'Give me just a few more days, and I'll be over it all. I'll be back to normal.'

That's what you told him, but you didn't even know if that was true. Regardless, you refused to lose your best friend over a situation like this.

One thing's for sure, you need to stop isolating. It wasn't helping as much as you convinced yourself it would. Just as you were debating texting Ji that you changed your mind, and to come over. Your phone chimed, and it was Jiji, he texted you first.

You threw the blankets off, opting to keep on your pajama shorts instead of changing. You slid a hoodie on over your cami though, because you refused to put a bra on.

They're your friends and you know they'd never judge you or your home. Still you tidied up the take out containers, cups, and cans left in your kitchen and living room. You folded your throw blankets, and fluffed up the pillows on your couch. You quickly picked up the clothes strewn across your apartment, and threw them into your room. You'd deal with the laundry later. Lastly, you went to take the garbage out, and as you turned to go back inside, a car drove up and Ji hopped out. He was in a hoodie, with the hood pulled up. He also wore sunglasses, and a black mask.

"Y/nie!" Ji said and ran up to hug you.

"Long time no see." You joke, wrapping your arms around him.

Hyunjin was also semi disguising himself, also in a hoodie. He had a baseball cap on, with his hood also up. He covered his eyes with the visor, and wore a black mask as well. He sent off the driver with a thank you and wave.

"Don't tease. It's been an excruciating amount of time. I need to recharge." He said squeezing you tighter.

"Hey y/n." Hyunjin walked up next, carrying bags full of goodies.

"Hey! Come on, give me those, let's get inside."

After you lead them in, you guys get comfy in the living room. They brought drinks, and loads of snacks and candy. In no time, you fell into that familiar and comfortable groove of your usual weekend shenanigans. Just a smaller circle this time.

"So," Ji started with his cheeks full of cheesecake, "I got in trouble with Minho."

"How?!" You giggled.

"I think Minho saved you actually, the way Chan was looking at you? He needed to get you out of there, you were NOT giving it up." Hyune said.

"Wait, what happened?" You sat up more, worried now.

"Tchh, he wouldn't have laid a finger on me." He tried to act confidently, but the way he rubbed his hands together told a different story.

"You guys fought?!" You gasped.

When Ji said nothing, and avoided your eyes, Hyune decided to speak up.

"They've been fighting. Mostly silently. You know, avoiding each other, sending the other looks and glares. But some days Hannie can't keep his mouth shut."

You gave Ji a stern look, and he just swallowed his cake.

"Anyways," Ji said, clearly trying to get the subject off of Chan, "Minho was so angry with me. I got scolded so much, I nearly cried."

"Well, yelling at Chan in front of the entire group probably wasn't the smartest thing to do..." Hyune mumbled.

Suddenly, concern washed over you. Surprisingly for Chan. You couldn't help it when the words just slipped out.

"So... how is Chan?" You attempted to sound nonchalant, stuffing your mouth with a brownie immediately afterwards.

They were both staring at you, unsure of how to answer.

"He's... tense. I get something clearly happened between you two, but I don't know exactly what's up. He seems angry, and lashes out at people verbally... But he's sad too, he's been attempting to hide away from everyone too." Hyune says.

"He has no reason to be angry." Ji snaps.

"Ji..." You say, "You should stop being so hostile to him. He didn't do anything to you..."

Damn that soft spot in your heart, even when you've been completely devastated by him, you're sitting here defending him.

He gave you the stern look now, "No. But he did something to hurt you. He's acting like a god damn fuck boy, and I always knew him to be better than that. I've never seen you like this! He made you stop visiting us, you even stopped talking to me throughout the day. He created a divide. And I'm sorry to be selfish, but whether or not it was done to me, it still affected me too!"

The anguish in his voice shot through your chest, creating that god awful sinking feeling. He was right, but still... it wasn't only Chan that held the blame. You were guilty of your own actions. You never should've pushed any of them away, especially Hanji.

"Okay, I have to ask. What the hell happened, it seems like he did something really bad." Hyunjin finally asked, worry written all over his face.

Ji refused to look up from his cheesecake, he was now just mashing it up angrily on his plate.

"I like Chan." You blurted out, "Well, I liked him. I still like him? I'm trying to get over him though. But it's proving to be more difficult than I thought, so maybe it's more than me just having a crush. I don't know. It feels ridiculous to have such big emotions towards him, considering we struggle to even hold a conversation. I know nothing substantial about him, and I'm sure it's vice-versa. But the last time I was over... We ended up... halfway hooking up in the hall? But he stopped. And he looked at me like I was crazy. Like he forgot who I was, and like... like he was disgusted that it was me he was touching." You started rambling now.

"And I mean I get it. I'm me, nothing special. We were drunk, and I'm sure with the way we were feeling, it could've just been chalked up to hormones on overdrive. But... I really thought he was reciprocating my feelings. I feel so stupid, to put that much value into sex. It's just sex. And it didn't even happen! I don't know. It just hurt, it still hurts. The regret in his eyes, that stung so bad. Because I didn't regret it, fuck, I don't regret it... I'm just so angry. I can't seem to move on from this."

They both sat listening to you, as tears began to well in your eyes. Ji pulled you into him, your head resting on his chest. Your arm rested on top of his stomach, the other sliding between his back and the couch. He was carding his fingers through your hair, and scratching your scalp lightly, like he knew you liked.

"Stop talking down on yourself. I don't like seeing you tear yourself down with lies." Ji mumbled.

"I'm sorry you're going through this... Have you two... talked at all?" Hyunjin asked.

"No. I'm trying to avoid that. I already got my heart ripped out once, I don't want to go through it again." You nearly sobbed, thinking back to how he approached you in the elevator. All he said was your name, but his voice was filled with such strong emotions that you couldn't decipher. You'd just assumed it was still regret, and ran out of there as fast as you could.

Hyunjin rubbed your knee comfortingly, "But maybe talking would help... I'm not trying to make excuses for him. He should've spoken up at that point, offered some sort of explanation or reassurance, something. That's on him for not opening his mouth, you'd obviously be confused about the whole thing. I don't know if you're interested in fixing things and talking it out, or even remaining friends with him. Regardless, I feel like some sort of closure would help you and help him. And unfortunately that does involve talking it out."

You nodded your head, "It probably would, but I don't feel like I'm ready. You didn't see his eyes. I can't handle it if he looks at me like that again." You whispered the next sentence, "I don't want anyone to look at me that way again. "

"I don't think Chan would ever be disgusted by you, I mean judging by the looks some of us have caught him giving you. He definitely finds you attractive, as he should." He smirked, making you give a breathy laugh through the tears, "Frankly, I'm shocked that you were even interested in him. I mean have you seen me?" He gestured to his face dramatically, turning from side to side and gave a few poses.

You and Ji both chuckled at him.

"Or Felix? Even Innie lately is growing more into his features! Why not one of us?!" He nudged your leg with a laugh.

"HEY! If anyone gets to date my Jagi, it's obviously me. We'll be two hot, married best friends who suffer in abstinence, because we can't bring ourselves to consummate the marriage." Ji suddenly slurs, holding onto you tighter.

Yeah, he was a little too quiet there for too long, the alcohol must've hit him.

You burst out laughing, and shove him away from you, "Gross Jiji!"

"And thank you Hyune, but I feel like that can't be true. Even if he has checked me out, that's superficial. I mean we're human, we can feel a basic level of attraction to someone we see for only 2 seconds, and never get to see them again. When I say I like him, it's more than just a physical relationship. I know it's illogical, for so many reasons. Like I said, I barely even know him. There's been no attempt to even get on the same level, like how I know the rest of you. We barely talked, we had that huge argument, and he's always kept some distance from me... there's always been a detachment. So for me to want to be with him, even after all the signs of him wanting nothing to do with me? It's insane. He could never want that, could never want me. Not beyond a quick fuck apparently. And he couldn't even go through with that..."

You know you're starting to sound repetitive and bitter, and a little pathetic. But damn it, this hurts. And these thoughts were consuming your mind in a vicious continual cycle.

Hyunjin just hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing, "You know you can't help emotions y/n, they're borderline instinctual. Especially love, and I'm not saying you're in love with him, but to care for someone? That passion? It's got to count for some kind of love. It's such a powerful feeling, we have no control over it, it's humorlessly funny like that."

You were listening to him talk intently, he was so poetic. Maybe it was the fact you were a little tipsy, but you were thinking that he should write more songs. More love songs specifically.

"If we could control it, there'd be much less heartbreak in the world I think. Unrequited love wouldn't exist... With that in mind though, there'd be a lot less love overall. I mean think about it, love almost always comes with some sort of eventual pain. There'd be many people who'd just opt out altogether..." He paused for a moment before continuing, "And never discount things as impossible, everything is possible. I'm not saying this to try to give you hope or destroy your hope. I'm not saying this to persuade you either. I'm just saying sometimes things aren't so black and white. Grey exists too, and it's a pretty beautiful shade if you ask me. I think you should talk to him about it." He finished

You nodded and offered a smile, "Maybe I should, and thank you."

You gestured for him to join you and Ji on the couch, and he rested against you. His head on your shoulder, creating a momentary cuddle pile, with you sandwiched in the middle.

You were so grateful to these boys, helping to piece you back together when you felt so broken. And over something seemingly insignificant to most. Ji was physically comforting you, and Hyune was comforting you mentally and emotionally. He just seemed to understand the world on a different level, able to see perspectives that might not always be clear to most. His mind was a beautiful place, and you felt honored that he let you in. You both formed a special bond tonight, similar yet completely different to you and Ji.

And, oh Ji... he wasn't getting off scot free.

"And you," You looked up to Ji, who was looking down at you wide eyed, "You need to apologize for your behavior with Chan. I understand you want to protect me, and I love you for that. Immensely. But he's your leader. He's done and sacrificed so much for you and your members. I'm sure no one knows what's going through his head. Stop giving him such a hard time... I'll figure out a solution with him eventually... even if it's just practicing being civil with each other. For now, try not to take things out on him. I'm sorry I stopped coming around. That fault lies completely on me, and it was petty. I won't avoid anyone anymore, so promise me you'll apologize. And that means as soon as you see him!"

He looked at you, processing your words before answering, "...fine. But seriously... don't go dark on me again, Jagiya." He said quietly.

You smiled, and snuggled up closer to him, "I won't, my poor baby."

The three of you continued chatting, catching up on all the crazy things you missed out on. Apparently a lot can happen in two weeks. You were angry you missed out on a weekend camping trip. Apparently they all had gotten so drunk, except Chan. And I.N. kept threatening to hit people with his shoe. They informed you that Chan was very quiet on the trip. He kept to himself mostly, and binge ate ice cream instead of sharing a drink with the rest.

You couldn't get your mind off Hyunjin's words. Chan has been watching you? The amount of time you spent checking him out, you'd figured if that were true you would have noticed. Maybe he was sneakier than you thought. Then again, that night your eyes did meet more than once or twice... You kept catching him looking at you. Maybe what Hyune said was true.

You were stuffed, full of candy and sweets. And also a little tipsy. It was getting late. Close to an hour later, you sent them home in a rideshare, telling them both to text you when they get home. Then you made sure to text Minho, alerting him of exactly how drunk Han was, and apologizing. You knew he'd be the one stuck taking care of him, if there's anyone who loves Ji as much as you, it's Minho. He might love him even more, having known him for much longer than you did. If the boys didn't have such a busy schedule this week, you'd be able to have Ji and Jinnie spend the night and take care of them yourself.

A weight was lifted off your shoulders, and you silently cursed yourself for hiding yourself away for so long. You always did that, and it never ended well. You really were thankful to Ji, you don't know what you'd do without him.

That night, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep quicker, easier. But even as slumber was pulling you in, Chan was still on your mind.

Chan was sitting on the couch with Minho, having been forced out of his room and pushed to socialize. He hadn't done much, he was in his thoughts again. Occasionally entertaining the others with curt responses and short conversations here and there. They seemed to just be happy with his presence, and he was thankful for that.

Jisung and Hyunjin had gone to your house, and the unknown made him feel uneasy. He was happy though, because that meant you weren't cutting everyone off, you weren't done with the entire group, you were staying in their lives.

Everyone but the man that fucked up it would seem. Still, he felt relief. He wouldn't forgive himself if he was the cause of a valuable friendship lost for everyone.

The rest of the members had gone to sleep by now, but he and Minho were waiting for the two younger members to arrive home. You had texted Minho saying they were on their way back, and to take care of them as they were drunk. Jisung especially.

He was wondering what was taking them so long, and he could tell Minho had some worry too. His leg shaking up and down. Then, as if on cue, Hyunjin bursts through the door. He has Hannie in his grasp, pulling him along as he tries to resist entering the dorm.

Hyune mumbled, "C'mon. You promised her."

He started to feel flushed, and hot. What does that mean?

He gave Hannie a push towards Chan, and Minho gave a worried look to both of them. He was expecting the worst. Jisung was staring at his feet, playing with his fingers and biting his lip.

Chan didn't think he could feel more disheartened than he already was, but it was apparently possible. Staring at Hannie in front of him, he looked so defeated. What had happened at your house?

Finally he looked up to Chan. And Chan was sure his face mirrored the younger ones anxiety.

Then Han started tearing up, "I'm sorry Channie-hyung!" He wailed, and collapsed into Chan's arms.

Chan was shocked, but he just held him close, and softly shushed him, trying to comfort him. He was trying to offer understanding and his own apologies. But Jisung ignored it babbled on, recanting his negative actions and harsh words. Chan respected the fact that he was apologizing, but he already knew why he had said the things he said. Why he had done the things he did. In fact, he held a sense of pride towards Hanji for it. It wasn't easy for him to stand up to Chan. And while, yes, he was being inappropriate from a certain viewpoint, he expected nothing less from the boy trying to protect his best friend. He couldn't be angry with him about that fact.

If anything he just felt more guilty that he had to protect you from Chan at all.

He continued slurring, stuttering, and sniffling in between talking. His words were barely coherent at this point, but Chan did catch one sentence.

"I thought I was losing her forever because of that night..."

Chan never felt more disappointed in himself, his entire being crumpled. Not only did he hurt you, he hurt Han. He's hurt the other members who grew to care for you just as much as he did. He never intended to hurt anyone, and instead he hurt many. It was all his fault.

With the help of Minho, they dragged Han to bed. Minho stayed with him, tucking him in, then getting him water and paracetamol for the morning. Minho stated he'd be spending the night in Han's room, just in case he was going to be sick. So Chan went out to check on Hyunjin, hoping he wasn't as inebriated but expecting as much. He found him in the kitchen, a bottle of water in one hand and a chip bag in the other.

"You feeling okay, Hyunjin?"

"Yeah, I didn't have as much as Han did..." He trailed off, "Neither did y/n." He was eyeing Chan as he continued, a glint in his eye while he said it.

Chan just nodded and kept silent, knowing he was trying to get at something. And it didn't feel like it was anything but teasing. Hyunjin wasn't having that though, he never did when people ignored what he had to say.

"Y/n made Han apologize you know," He started as he opened his chips, "I mean we both know he would've eventually. But she made him promise he would apologize as soon as he saw you."

That piqued his interest somewhat. He didn't view you as a mean person, but he figured you wouldn't mind seeing him distressed due to Han. In fact when he was standing in front of him, he was sure that he was about to get cussed out. By order of you, maybe. Considering Hyune said that Han promised you something. He wouldn't blame you, he deserved it after all.

But no. You were continuing to be your kind and sweet self. Even towards the person who upset you. He was confused.

"Why?" Chan finally whispered, more to himself than Hyune.

"I believe her words were, 'he's done and sacrificed so much for you' and 'no one knows what's going through his head'. So she suggested that he, well more like intimidated him, to apologize." He said while dipping his hand into the bag of chips, "It was cute, really. She was almost... protective."

With that he popped a chip in his mouth, and went off to bed, leaving Chan dumbstruck in the kitchen yet again.

His heart was thumping in his ears, unsure of how to interpret those words. But they meant something, right? Hyunjin was a tease, sure, but he must know what happened. He wasn't just teasing about this? Surely he wouldn’t go to that extent.

'No one knows what's going through his head.'

You were right. No one knows. You don't know. He needed to talk to you, he needed to let you know. He needed to let you in, even if it was hard.

Suddenly he felt hope again. It was small and shriveled, but alive. He was sure with enough care and nourishment, something precious could bloom from it.

The week flew by, and now it was nearing the weekend again. Things almost felt normal. You had returned to the office regularly, no longer working from home. Your time with Ji had gone back to normal, Jinnie often tagging along now. And the other members were glad you had started showing up again too. Everyone was excited to recommence the late night antics at their dorm tonight.

You couldn't help but notice Chan seemed relieved too, a little too relieved. Even though you clearly gave him the cold shoulder. It didn't seem to bother him. You obviously have an idea of why his attitude towards you changed drastically, but what you don't have an idea of is what his goal is. You can't necessarily say he's acting as if nothing had happened anymore, because of his new demeanors. But he still hasn't mentioned anything to you directly. His gall was starting to irritate you. His mixed signals were angering you.

If you were to think logically and assume, maybe in his head, he had been attempting some sort of effort to 'fix' things. But you tried to shut it down every single time, still unsure of his reasoning. Because he still never brought up that night, and was acting as if nothing happened at all. As if his reasoning for trying to be more friendly didn't exist. It was ridiculous.

Before that night, it was always you making sure to greet him first, you striking up small talk, you trying to crack jokes with him. All small and simple gestures, but gestures nonetheless. If only to keep things polite and civil. The tables seemed to have turned, and now he was initiating it all. In front of others you were short with him, but made sure to still be polite. There was a deeper detachment than before, and it didn't go unnoticed by the others either. Though they kept their mouths shut, only eyeing the interactions between you two.

In your head you figured that he'd get the hint and stop trying so hard at whatever it was he was trying at. You hoped it would trigger a conversation about that night finally. It got to the point where it started to create an awkward vibe in the presence of the others. But no, he still wouldn't stop. He just amped it up, and now the dynamic was once again changing.

He'd figured out the exact times you would take your breaks, and would manage to catch you before anyone else could. When you stepped off the elevator, he'd be waiting for you with a smile, and offer to buy you a snack. You'd decline, instead opting to take a small walk and stretch your legs. When you get back to your desk you'd find your favorite cookies on them, or your favorite candy bar, or your favorite drink from the vending machine. They were always wrapped nicely or bagged with a bow, with a note attached. It usually reads something like, 'don't forget to eat today! --Channie'.

You would always hand them out to your co-workers, or offer the singular items to your office bestie, before crumpling the note and throwing it out.

He'd taken to somehow always being there to hold a door open for you. Or trying to hold your bags when he caught you using the stairs instead of the elevator, actively trying to avoid him. Or when you were helping staff move the camera equipment from room to room, he'd try to take the load off your hands. It always ended in you snapping at him in a whisper. And him furrowing his brows like he didn't understand what he did wrong.

It's not that his actions were wrong, actually. They were the opposite, but why? Why was he doing all this, when he never did before. He was putting all this effort into acts of service, when all you wanted to do was talk. It was hard for you to bring it up, especially when he was acting so sweet yet pissing you off at the same time.

You should've realized it'd be hard for him to bring it up too, but you didn't. Because of that, there was the Wednesday incident.

You were heading home for the day, not having had a run in with Chan all day, and unsure how to feel about it. You were almost out the door when you heard heavy footsteps coming towards you from across the lobby, and your stomach twisted.

Chan.

"Hey! Wait!" He said with a smile, "I'll walk you to your car."

You'd had enough at that point. You rolled your eyes, and continued out the door. But you knew he'd catch up anyways.

As his pace aligned with yours, he kept talking, "Sorry I couldn't catch you at all today, it was a busy one. It still is, I think I'll be stuck in the studio all night. Han too, we finally figured out the ho--"

"Chan!" You cut him off, "Really? What makes you think I'm in the mood to talk to you? What makes you think I was waiting for your presence at all? You don't need to apologize for being busy. We're at work. We're working. It's what we do." You spat out, more abrasive than you've ever been to him.

He looked at you wide eyed, and you felt something akin to guilt pang in your chest. Immediately you ignored it, and kept walking. Only for him to latch onto your arm gently.

"I don't understand." He said, discouragement lacing his voice. "I'm trying to... trying to--"

"Trying to what? What exactly is it that you're trying to do? Because I can't figure it out. You're being so hot and cold, you went from one extreme to the other. I don't know how to decipher that."

"I just want things to go back to being okay again! I want us to be normal again." He said exasperated.

"Okay?!" You chuckled, "Normal? Our normal was borderline avoiding each other, which I am keeping up with very well, thank you. Our normal was talking to each other out of necessity. Our normal was little to no interaction, unless we're in a group. Whatever you're trying at, it's not our normal!" You shouted.

"No, what I mean is-" but you cut him off again, too heated to think logically.

"Our normal definitely didn't include me against a wall, and your fingers inside me and around my throat. THAT is not our normal. And I know it made things uncomfortable. And I know you regret it. But how can you expect things to go back to being whatever you think 'okay' is, if we haven't even talked about it?" You took a second to suck air into your lungs that seemed to be burning with rage.

"Instead you talk to me like that night never happened, and then you behave as if we've been best friends forever. You act as if that behavior, whatever your reason for it, isn't influenced by that night. You talk to me about things we never talked about before. We never caught up on how each other's day was, we never checked in with each other to make sure the other ate, we never took breaks together to get coffee or a snack and chat. You're expecting me to be the same as you, and ignore what happened. But I can't Chan, I can't do it. All I want is closure, instead it feels almost like I'm being led on. Before that happened, I was insignificant to your life. Our only connection being Ji! Then... then in an instant everything changed and then it changed again. It's confusing Chan. I'm lost here."

The tears were brimming in your eyes, and his ears were the brightest red you've ever seen. The flush went to his cheeks, and down his neck, and the grip he had on your arm was trembling. He started to open his mouth again, but you were quick to stop him. You felt like all he would give you right now is excuses, and you weren't ready to hear that.

"Please, Chan. I'm the one who's trying. I'm trying to move past it, like you seem to want to. But it's harder for me. When I feel like this, all I want to do is go home and hide. I can't do that though, not again. I'm trying to be civil. I'm trying to be polite, for the sake of everyone in our lives. But you keep pushing for some sort of friendship we never had..." You felt the dampness on your cheeks now, and before you knew it, your last sentence slipped through, "And did it ever occur to you that I wanted more than a simple friendship?"

At that he let your arm fall, and he took in a shaky breath. You figured now was the time he would say something, but he seemed frozen. Then he spoke in a soft tone.

"I'm so sorry y/n, I promise I can explain..."

That was it, your heart started to ache at the thought of his words. You weren't ready to be rejected again. So you rubbed your cheeks, one at a time, swiping the tears away and sniffling. He reached towards you again, stepping closer, but you stepped back.

"I need to go."

And you left. You got in your car, and you held it all in. The whole drive home, you refused to let yourself process any of the conversation. Which in reality was less of a conversation, and more you blowing up on Chan.

It wasn't until you stepped through your door that you sunk to the floor, back against your front door and started sobbing. You let it all out. The guilt for yelling at him. The despair over the rejection, that never left your heart. The embarrassment over the entire situation and how you were acting. Your unjust, pure anger. It all just came out in tears. You couldn't stop them, your only focus was on breathing when you could.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, hugging your knees and bawling your eyes out. But the sound of keys jingling, and the pressure of the door pushing against your back, is what snapped you out of that grief stricken daze.

"Oh, Jagiya..." You registered Hans voice as you stood up to move, you forgot you gave him keys to your place.

He scooped you into his chest, squeezing you tight. You held onto him, just as firm.

"Wait..." You were confused, Chan said they both would be late in the studio, "What are you doing here?"

He pulled back and scanned your face as you sniffled. He sighs, and leads you into your kitchen, wetting a towel and dabbing at your puffy eyes and cheeks before drying them. Once you seemed to be in a pacified state, he continued.

"An unintelligent kangaroo I happen to know, told me I should head home early and check on you. He seems to be more intelligent than I thought." He tried to make light of the situation, but guilt bubbled up in you once again.

"Wanna talk about what happened?" He offered.

And so you word vomited at him. Retelling the whole scene word for word, since the words were mostly your own. He listened, nodding when necessary, and humming in agreement to some parts. When you were done, you looked at him and waited.

He was looking down with his arms crossed, leaning against your kitchen counter. He looked deep in thought.

"Well?" You said desperately.

"Well, I think it's good one of you finally broke the ice on it. You got it off your chest, you said what you needed to. Yeah, maybe you were rude. But now the door to talk about it finally was opened. However, maybe you should've heard him out. Seems like he could barely get a word in edgewise. If I know you when you're angry, which I do, I know you never planned on letting him speak. You always have to have the last word, my little attack chihuahua."

Then he poked your forehead, "Stubborn. Defensive. Both of you."

You groaned, "I know, I know. I'm already beating myself up over it."

"When will either of you learn? You don't need to beat yourself up over it, you just need to communicate. You missed your opportunity today, but that doesn't mean all hope is lost. I know he really wants to talk to you."

"Talk again?" You scrunch your face at the idea, even while knowing it had to happen.

"Apologize, is more like it." He retorted.

Your face dropped, but you knew he was right.

"Hey, you made me do it. And it was the right thing to do. Like you said, no matter how angry I am, I needed to apologize. The same rules apply to you... Plus I've been hesitant to say this but..."

"What?"

"If he wanted to stop in the middle of it all, he had every right to. I know it hurts but, no means no, you know?"

Guilt flooded your veins yet again, are you really coming across as some sort of hostile person after facing a rejection? You suppose it was half right, which made you feel disappointed in yourself. You were no better than the men who throw tantrums when women reject them. In your mind though, you were more upset at ignoring it all.

"I know that, and currently I'm not angry because sex didn't happen. I'm angry because I don't understand why it almost happened, and I want an explanation. I just want to know why he was so cold to me the entire time before it happened, and why he tried to act like nothing happened and was friendlier to me afterwards. If he wanted to stop because he changed his mind and wasn't feeling it, that's fine. But he could've said that, I'd be hurt because I like him so much, but I'd get over it. Why I'm upset now is because I don't like the mixed signals. I don't like the unknown. I want closure."

"To get closure you have to talk to him y/n, you avoid him just as much as he used to avoid you. Now that he's stopped, you're still avoiding him. And acting kind of rude to him, we've all seen it. The fake smiles don't really hide the contempt in your eyes. You're always valid in your emotions always, but I've recently learned that it's the reaction that you are held responsible for. That goes for him too, even though his reactions may not be as hostile as yours. His reaction of ignoring it, is just as hurtful to you. But... I have a feeling if you hear him out, you'll get your closure."

Again, you knew he was right about it all. You knew you had been bitter and immature about the entire situation. You paced for a moment, thinking about how you could even apologize to him. He'd been trying to fix things, and talk just like you wanted. Why have you held on to all that anger for so long? You were in the wrong too, more so than he was. You needed to apologize quickly.

"Just take the night to process and decompress. You'll have plenty of opportunities to talk with him, especially since his mission in life lately is just that. Again, we've all noticed it, he can't seem to leave you alone."

"Do you know what he's up to?" You squint your eyes at Ji suspiciously.

"He won't tell anyone exactly why he's doing what he's doing. But I have my own speculations, which I won't be sharing because I'm not trying to meddle and put ideas in your head. After talking with him a bit tonight, I don't think he's aiming to hurt you, that's for sure."

You sighed again, and nodded.

"Now. Dinner and comfort anime? I'm thinking.... Nana?"

"God, yes please. I need a distraction from realizing how much of an asshole I was. That I was actually the one starting issues." You groan, and you both plop down the couch and start to order food.

Ji went home half an hour ago, and you're now staring at your phone. Debating the text you typed up to Chan. Your finger was hovering over the send button. It would be better to apologize in person, but you weren't sure you could face him without some sort of emotional outburst anymore. It was something you needed to work on. So maybe smoothing things over through text before you spoke with him would help.

You read it over one last time... God you sounded too professional, like you were talking to your boss. You hit send anyway, you weren't going to come up with anything better to say. You put your phone down, only for it to buzz a minute later.

Good... things are starting to get better. Or so you thought.

You didn't see him at all on Thursday, nor spoke to him. You didn't see Jiji either, but he confirmed through text that Chan had been cooped up with him in the studio. You felt bad, knowing you probably added more stress to their jobs. Especially considering Ji ditched work yesterday to comfort you.

Now it was Friday, and they were back at work in the studio again. Hyunjin was over yours because he finished up early, the both of you were just hanging out. Waiting for everyone else to get out. The nine of you were recommencing weekend get togethers.

"You should bring them food." Hyunjin, who was currently laying across your couch suggested.

He could sense your anxiety, constantly checking your phone for the time. He knew you wanted to talk to Chan, finally.

"I don't want to interrupt them, I already did that yesterday." You mumbled.

"Tch, like either of them would really view you as an interruption. They'd be elated."

"Ji? Yes, yes he would. You know things are weird between me and Chan though." You whined.

"Mmm, but this could be your chance to fix it." He suggested in a sing-song voice.

You actually debated it, but you didn't want to prolong his work tonight by stealing time for a conversation. A most likely lengthy conversation.

You looked at the clock, still debating and wondering if you had time. When you saw the time you realized it was much later than you thought.

"Shit, forget food. We're going to be late."

Hyunjin glanced at the time and nodded, "Alright, let's head to mine."

You grabbed your keys and headed for the door, Hyunjin followed and soon you both were in the car on the way to the dorm.

Once you got there, and Hyunjin let you in, you realized everyone was already here, judging by the pile of shoes. It seemed, the majority were getting cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes.

"I'm going to change too! I need to get out these jeans and into something comfier. Just make yourself at home!" He said while heading to his bedroom.

You sat on the couch and started scrolling on your phone. You were laughing at a funny video when you heard someone walking down the hall. Of course Chan is the first to finish, and he decides to join you on the couch. He takes the seat next to you, like right next to you.

"Um... Do you have to sit so close?" You say in the softest voice you could manage.

Remember. Stay level headed, no snapping, no meltdown, no blow ups. Don't yell.

He looks at you a bit defeated, and moves to the other end of the couch.

You sigh. Things were still touchy. It can't keep continuing on like this, it's too uncomfortable for you both. You have to apologize and make amends. It's now or never, but he speaks before you the chance.

"Y/n. Is now a good time to talk?" He says in a serious tone, with a stern look on his face.

You tense under his gaze, and your stomach feels like it's sinking. Was he that mad at you? You kind of understand why though.

"S-sure." You stuttered.

His eyes darkened, tongue poking his cheek. He's getting shifty now, and glancing down the hallway.

"Do you mind if we talk in private?"

You suppose it would be even more uncomfortable if someone else happened across you two discussing this. So when he stands up and heads towards his room, you follow him into it.

His room was neat. You'd never been in it before, and sure, you've seen the live streams. But it was a very different feeling, seeing it through a screen versus being inside it.

He sits on his bed, and pats the spot next to him for you to sit. You opt for leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of you. You were feeling defensive still, and didn't want to push your limits. It was his turn to sigh now, as he hung his head.

"Y/n I meant it when I said I'm really tryi--"

"Can I say something first... and then I promised I won't interrupt you again."

He just nods, with his tongue poking his cheek again. You know you're pushing his buttons, but you felt you needed to apologize before anything. Now you decided to sit next to him, twisting your torso to face him. And he did the same to face you.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted. It was incredibly childish." You sighed, "I know you had every right to change your mind, and I shouldn't have gotten so angry over it. I never meant to act so toxic towards you. I should've just accepted the fact that you wanted to stop and moved on. But the truth is... I've liked you for a while now. So when that happened, in my head, I took it as you reciprocating my feelings. Which doesn't make any sense, because you never knew of my feelings.”

Chan snorted a bit, trying to conceal a laugh.

“Then when you stopped, paired with the look on your face, it felt like you realized you made a mistake doing that with me. You looked like you were disgusted. Which I promise you, I now totally understand if that's the case. But it still hurt me... regardless, I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. So again, I'm sorry. I truly am. I hope you can forgive me." You managed to get it all out clearly, with a steady tone.

He was staring at you with a thoughtful look on his face, soaking in your words, processing. Then he smirked, and that was the last thing you expected.

"I guess you were acting a little bratty." He chuckled a bit.

Then he reached for your hand, putting his on top of yours. You felt the fluttering in your stomach at his simple action. But you flipped your hand over anyways, palm up and letting him hold it.

"But y/n, you've got it all wrong, and it's partly my fault." He started, and your eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion falling on your face.

"I like you too," he squeezed your hand gently, and it was oddly comforting, "The reason I stopped is because I didn't want you to think that all I wanted from you was sex. Because I want so much more."

Were you dreaming? Is he really confessing right now? Even after how horrible you were towards him?

"I know the way I acted before doesn't exactly translate to me having feelings for you." He continued, "The truth is I was too scared to confess, until that night. The liquor gave me that extra boost of confidence, and you just... looked so beautiful. And the game we played, and catching you look my way multiple times. It almost confirmed to me that you wanted me too. Because I wanted you then and there. So when I saw you in the hallway, I thought it was my chance. But I let the lust take over."

Heat started to spread in your lower stomach at his words, and he kept going.

"I wanted to do things the proper way. I wanted to confess, and ensure that you knew I was serious about you, and not a fling. I wanted to take you out on dates, and properly ask you to be mine. I should have just said it all that night. I got scared again though, and just froze. And I know the way I was acting right after was confusing, I didn't mean to give you mixed signals."

Your head was spinning with all the information he was sharing, it truly felt like you were in a daydream. Then you found your voice again.

"It felt like you were disgusted with me." You whispered, "And then you were acting so nonchalant about the whole thing, as if it never happened. I guess I was assuming things."

He cupped your cheek, and comfortingly rubbed his thumb against it

"I could never be disgusted by you, love."

You had to resist a shiver at him calling you that pet name.

"I wanted us both to be sober too. That's why I idiotically told you to drink water, and rest. And the next morning, I was so nervous because you were rushing to leave. You had tears in your eyes, I said the first thing to pop into my head. I was hoping to talk about everything that morning. But then you walked out the door, and I felt like I had no right to stop you. Then Hannie was so mad at me, you stopped coming around. I felt like I fucked everything up and I lost all hope for a while." He sounded distraught.

“Until Hannie argued with me, yelling at me to fix things. He outright put the entire blame on me, and he did this in front of everyone. So that experience paired with your disappearance from our lives, especially Hannies life. He was so lost without you, I knew I had to try and fix it right away. I had been wanting to, I was just so unsure how to go about it. But Han's words pushed me to just go for it."

You took the opportunity to scoot closer to him, side by side now. He threw his arm around your waist.

"The elevator... ugh. I was just so hurt, I was so sure that you were going to come up with excuses, try to let me down easy. I was terrified of the rejection. I had no idea, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, we were both a little clueless about everything."

"I guess we were just a little stupid, huh?" You laughed.

He chuckled, "Just a bit."

"Then when Hyunjin happened to mention something, that's when I fully had hope again. So I tried to approach you, and be friendly, and get you snacks. I tried to help you out at work when I could. I was still unsure of how to bring it up to you." He admitted.

You felt so ashamed, "And then I went and yelled at you. I didn't even let you speak, ugh. I'm so sorry."

"Again with the apologizing," He chuckled, "I told you, we were just confused about it. There was a lot of miscommunication... when we did talk anyways."

"I know, I was feeling and throwing mixed signals. All I wanted the entire time was to talk about it. Yet, I tried to avoid you at all costs. It doesn't exactly make sense. God, I was so... so childish."

"You were feisty is what you were. And I'm sure you still are." He joked.

You giggled. It was unbelievable how understanding he was. It was more shocking how wrong you were about his feelings. You had completely misconstrued everything. Assuming the worst. You couldn't be happier about being so wrong.

Nuzzling into his chest, and wrapping your arm around his torso, had him humming contently. But then you thought of what he said earlier.

"What did Hyunjin say...?"

He cleared his throat, "When you made Hannie apologize to me, Jin said that you were acting almost protective over me. It made me think that I had a chance of proving my feelings for you."

"So that's the true reason why you were so friendly, and constantly getting me things and trying to help me out. You were lowkey trying to confess.” You looked up to him smiling.

He was blushing now, "Yeah, but I realize I was still doing things a little out of order. I'm terrible at communicating I guess."

"Channie..." you said for the first time, and his blush got deeper, "I know it means a lot to you to do things traditionally. And I appreciate the effort you put in to accomplish that. But to me, it doesn't matter as much. We could've figured everything out afterwards." You said softly, and he was smiling down at you.

"I guess I should catch up to the modern age." He joked.

"Never! You prove that chivalry isn't dead. I love that you're a romanticist. Don't change." You laughed, "And... the communication problems? That's something we can both work on. I need to fix that in me too."

You felt him tense, and he caught your chin between his fingers, pushing you to look up at him further. You felt the warmth of his breathing spread across your face, he had that same look on his face as when he leant in to kiss you that night. Wetness was now pooling in your panties, and you had to resist clenching your thighs together. He was so in tune with your body language, and he caught it last time. You're sure he would notice again. You didn't want him to think you were rushing him into sex.

"So... does that mean you want to give us a go?" He was so serious when he said it, you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes though.

"Of course, it's a dream come true." You smiled at him.

He was quick to bring his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly, softly. You sighed into the kiss, and felt like you were melting into him as you turned your body towards him more. You brought your hands up, one resting on the side of his neck, the other on his shoulder. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, and combed his fingers into your curls.

He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, licking your bottom lip. Your tongue met his, and soon you were wrestling against his for dominance. He started leaning you back against his bed, adjusting himself on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. His hands roamed your body and he never broke away from your lips. You were nearly panting into his mouth, giving up and allowing him to explore your mouth. Your hands clutching his shirt like it would save you. The kiss was messy, downright sloppy, and you loved it. You were both desperate for this.

You wanted to imprint his touch into your mind. Every area he grazed made you feel tingly all over. Your entire body was oversensitive for him. You'd never felt like this with anyone else.

Then he was playing with the hem of your shirt, his fingers grazing your stomach. You mewled at that, and he groaned. It was so high pitched it nearly sounded like a whimper.

"Please... I still want you." He whispered against your lips.

You were breathing heavy, chest heaving. You couldn't help it when your hips bucked up, letting yourself get consumed by lust, "Yes, god yes. I need you."

He re-positioned himself, lowering his body onto yours and letting his hips grind into you. You could feel his length against you through his shorts, and you whined. Even this felt like ecstasy, he almost made you cum last time from dry humping. He was so skilled at making sure you got friction exactly where you needed it. It was driving you feral.

His lips attached to your neck, kissing, sucking, and biting his way down to your chest. His hand groped your breast, kneading it. Then he rolled over, flipping your position, so you were on top of him. It was your turn to grind your hips, your core rubbing directly on his erection. He threw his head back, mouth hanging open. His hands gripped your waist, helping you move against him.

Things felt less rushed this time around. It felt like all time stopped, and the only thing that existed in the world was you and him. You wanted to be lost in this passion with him forever. The high he made you feel, made your head all hazy with desire.

"Fuck..." He whispered as he looked up at you, seeing how fucked out you looked already.

His hands slipped underneath your shirt, pulling it up. You took the hint and ripped it off, unclasping your bra afterwards.

You had to admit, you felt your face flush again, at being exposed to him. But he soon wiped the thought from your mind, leaning up and placing soft kisses all over your chest. He kissed up to your collar bones, he kissed each mound, kissed in between them, he even kissed your nipples so gently.

You were learning he was a tease.

One hand was kneading your breast again, the other braced against your back. Then his lips closed around one of your nipples, and his hot tongue swirled around it. His hand now playing with the other. Pinching, flicking, and rubbing. He braced the hand against your back, pushing you into him more, while he sucked your nipple harshly. You whimpered, and your hips started rolling against him again.

He pulled off with a pop, and mumbled "I could worship these tits love, all of you is so gorgeous."

His words made you blush, and then he pushed you onto your back again. He clearly wasn't scared to manhandle you at all. He was quickly unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

"Need to tase you..." He mumbled again.

You liked needy Chan, somehow he kept the perfect balance of dominant yet deprived for you. He positioned himself between your legs, kissing and licking every inch of them. He held your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart to expose your panties. He placed a kiss on your clothed center, and groaned at the wet spot that was already there. His tongue peeked out, and he licked a slow stripe up, making your underwear wetter. Your eyes rolled back and you sighed, craving more.

And did you mention that you loved how vocal he was?

He licked his lips as he glanced up at you, mumbling "Taste so good, 'M gonna be addicted. Wanna be between your thighs all the time."

Then he spoke more clearly, with a smirk on his face "You're going to sit on my face one day. I want you to ride it."

You whined at the thought, and pushed your hips up, searching for friction. He took the opportunity to slide your panties to the side, and his tongue slid between your folds immediately.

You moaned loudly as his tongue flicked against your clit. You felt like you were on fire, yet shivering at the goosebumps spreading all over your body. Your hand reached down to his hair, and he groaned again, making his lips vibrate against you.

"Mmm... fuck." You moaned as you rocked your hips against his face.

He has no objections, but he momentarily paused to rip your panties off. Then he wraps his arms around each thigh, forcing you to open wider for him. He buried his face in you, letting his tongue dip into your entrance.

You gasped at the intrusion, your hand squeezing tighter into his hair. It had you nearly wailing. You'd never felt that before, and you think you could cum from it.

When his lips closed around your clit, he sucked. You were panting, feeling that familiar pleasure slowly coil in your lower abdomen.

He wasn't shy at all about devouring you, making slurping and squelching sounds. He brought his hand to your entrance, and slipped two fingers inside. You moaned, and he let you adjust before curling his fingers and pumping into you. Your orgasm is building faster now.

Writhing on the bed, and clutching his sheets, he did his best to keep you still. You were a moaning and whining mess. You couldn't help but be loud. His hand moved faster, as the tip of his tongue flicked at your clit. It was all too much as you felt your climax wash over your. You let out a desperate groan, your legs quivering as his hand squeezed your thigh tighter, preventing you from squeezing your legs shut.

Once you whimpered at the overstimulation, he stopped. Giving your clit one last kiss, sending one last shiver up your spine. Your chest was heaving, you were out of breath. He climbed up your body, wiping your juices and his saliva off his chin with the back of his hand. When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on him, and you hummed as you licked against his tongue.

He kept kissing you, and you tugged at his shirt, "No fair, I'm completely naked and you're fully dressed."

He chuckled and sat up, pulling his shirt off. You reached up to feel his abs, fingers tracing between each muscle. You moved up to his pecks, and when your palm grazed against his nipple, he hissed. Picking up on it, it was your turn to kiss his chest, making sure to pay special attention to his nipples. Your tongue lapping at them, and then sucking them.

He quickly turned into a whining mess. His voice making you grow wetter, and clenching around nothing.

You really loved how vocal he was.

He made quick work of pulling his pants and boxers off, and leaned back down to kiss you. The pressure of his weight on top of you was comforting, and you placed your arms on his shoulders. His cock twitched against your core, and you were mewling again.

He smiled against your lips and whispered, "Is my love needy right now?"

Then his fingers wrapped around your neck, and you bit your lip. Your hand was now on top of his, making him squeeze lightly, and you whined.

"Does my baby girl want to be choked right now?”

"Chan if you don't fuck me right now, I swear I'll--"

Before you could finish, he was gripping the base of his member. Sliding into you at a steady pace, and you gasped. He lets you adjust again. The length surprised you, and his girth stretched you deliciously. You always knew this man was hung.

His hand never left your throat, and he did add more pressure around it. But you still desperately needed more.

He must've read your mind, or at least your face, "You're really into breathplay huh? Need it harder?"

Your mind was clouded in pleasure, you felt so full having him inside you. His hand on your throat only heightens it. So you nodded as best you could.

"Remember, I need the words baby girl."

"Yes, yes, fuck yes." You moaned.

He nearly growled as he pulled out and snapped his hips into you sharply. He kept pumping into you. Rolling his hips into you roughly, skin slapping against skin. His hand squeezed your throat tightly, cutting off all oxygen and then easing up, so you could get a proper breath in. Everything felt blissful, consumed by need.

Your hips started rolling, meeting each of his thrusts. You were focused on making sure you both got off.

He had his eyes closed, face scrunched in concentration and panting, "Shit, you're so wet love. So tight, gonna cum too fast."

You clenched around him hearing that, and let out another whimper. You felt it building up in you again. His pace became uneven, and you knew he was nearing his climax.

"Please..." he begged with a strangled whine, "Cum with me, can't hold on much longer."

"Channie... so close, just a little more." You panted back.

He removed his hand from around your neck and down to your clit, rubbing quickly in little circles. That was all you needed to let go, becoming a moaning and quivering mess. Your walls were clenching around him again, as you rode out your orgasm.

He groans, hips stuttering before he pulls out of you. Giving himself a few pumps, he let out a loud and strangled cry as he finished. He was spurting ropes of cum all over your stomach, only slowing when the last of it was dripping down his cock and onto his fingers.

It was so sensual, you grabbed his hand and sucked them into your mouth. Making sure to lick them clean, keeping eye contact with him. His lips parted and he was looking at you so affectionately. When you finally popped them out of your mouth, he immediately caressed your face.

"How are you so perfect?" He murmured.

He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, and you slowly moved yours with his. This kiss was different, less desperate and more so savoring the moment. You felt lost in him. Nothing else mattered right now but you and him, the rest of the world melted away. You two were in your own bubble, and you couldn't be happier.

When he pulled away, he spoke "That was amazing, my love."

"It was." You giggled.

"I'm sorry it was a little rushed, I was craving you so bad." He said as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, a little embarrassed.

Your fingers brushed through his hair. He was right, it was rushed on both ends. You both were a little clumsy, figuring out each other's bodies for the first time. But that doesn't mean the sex was horrible, he made you cum twice.

"We'll have plenty of chances to take our time with each other. I think after everything, we were both hopelessly desperate for each other, and like you said. It was amazing Channie."

"I like hearing Channie coming from you, as different as it is."

"Mmmm, I have to think of another pet name. You claimed 'love' already."

He just chuckled, "You can call me whatever you want, Channie, love, Jagi. I don't mind."

"I think Ji would keel over if I called you Jagi instead of him." You giggled.

"Hannie can deal with it, he's not the only man in your life that's close to you anymore."

Chan got up to get you a towel, and cleaned you up.

You felt satisfied, laying down facing each other, and still embracing.

"So, about the other chances you mentioned. Maybe we can try out the edging you like so much. And all it takes for me to truly dom you is flipping a switch in my head and not holding back. I'm just not sure you can handle it."

"I can handle it, I'll be your perfect little sub." You snuggle closer to him.

"Hmmm, why do I doubt that for some reason. We already know how bratty you are."

"That just means more punishments for me, which I'm sure we'll both love."

"Is that so?" He started leaning in to kiss you.

Suddenly there was banging on the door.

"Are you two finished? I'm assuming your finished since all the noise stopped." Hanji yelled.

You looked wide eyed at Chan and he had a smug smile on his face.

"We'd like you to join us, we're playing cards against humanity tonight. Besides it's my time with my Jagi again, I'd like to be able to see you." Jiji shouted through the door.

You both scrambled to dress yourselves. He gave you his t-shirt, and some sweats. Slipping on nearly the same outfit, you opened the door to a pouting Ji. His face slowly transformed into a smirk as he looked you up and down.

"Better fix your sex hair babes, although I guess there’s no hiding your hickies and bruises though." He leaned in and whispered, "I didn't know you liked it that rough, his fingers are clear as day on your neck. You nympho." He poked your tummy repeatedly.

You nudged him and rolled your eyes, "Shut up."

Channie came up behind you, and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you a back hug. Just like that, Ji was back to pouting.

"This means I have to share my cuddle time, ugh." He whined.

Chan just patted the top of his head, laughing, "You'll get used to it."

"Hmph. I'm not going to stop calling her Jagi or babe or any other pet names. I was here first!" He stated.

Chan just chuckled, "I wouldn't expect you to Hannie."

He just turned around, still pouting, and headed back to the living room. You and Channie followed behind him, hand in hand. Eyes glued to each other, and smiling.

"Oh great, we have to deal with this now, on top of you and Han overdosing us with PDA?" Seungmin complained.

"I just knew something was up with you two, it's about time you fixed it." Innie commented.

"Yeah, and by the sound of it. Making up went really well." Changbin jokes, then his eyes wander to your neck, "You know, for as much noise you two were making, I'd never expect you'd be choking her in there."

You blushed intensely, and Channie cleared his throat, smiling, and scratching the back of his head. The group laughed, and you and Chan took your seats. Which was him sitting in the chair as usual, and you sitting in his lap.

"God, this is going to take getting used to." Hyunjin said with a smirk.

"You act like you didn't partially help orchestrate this whole thing." Jiji teased.

"What?!" Felix snapped, "And you didn't tell me?" Now he was pouting.

"It wasn't my business to tell. Besides, I only nudged them a little bit to communicate. They both seriously lack in that area." Hyune responded.

"Mmhm, I have to agree with that." Minho chimed in with a smug smile.

"Alright, alright. Enough poking fun at us. All that matters is that things can go back to normal." Chan said.

You faced him, "I still don't think this was our normal before, but it definitely can be our new normal now."

He smiled and gave you a peck on the lips, to which the entire room started gagging, and acting disgusted. They got distracted while setting up the card game, Chan whispered something in your ear.

"I know we've been doing things abnormally, and this might be a little fast. And we also have a lot more to talk about, but... Will you be mine?"

You break out into a huge smile, and press your lips to his ear, "Of course Channie. I'd love nothing more than to be your girlfriend."

He turned his head to kiss you again, except this time it wasn't a peck. Your lips moved in sync for a few seconds, and everyone once again noticed.

"Yeah, you were right Hyune. This is going to take A LOT of getting used to." Felix agreed.

"I don't think I've ever seen Chan-hyung like this before... It's a little weird." Innie chimed in.

"That's because he hasn't done anything like this before. Outright claiming someone? That's new territory for him." Minho said.

"No wonder it was so hard for him to pursue y/n." Seungmin said, "Although I really did have a feeling it was going to be Hannie that ended up with her."

Ji made a face, "Never. Our love isn't romantic, even though we both love skinship."

They were interrupted by the wet sounds of you both still making out.

Ji started pouting again, shouting, "Yah! Are we going to play or what? Surely you can both hold off until later, sheesh."

You pulled away and you and Channie laughed.

"Alright, let's play!" You said excitedly.

Maybe this was new territory for you, but you felt comfortable in it already. You were so glad that you and Channie were able to find solace in each other. Maybe you guys weren't quite in love yet, but you were elated that he returned your feelings fully.

This is the normal that Chan was talking about, and you wouldn't dream of having it any other way.

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