#one of the few good things in season 8 *sigh*

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 42!

another lovely reading week! i really need to sort through my marked for later list though, it just keeps growing... a task for next week, perhaps?

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! note that unlike in previous weeks, this list contains some fics that are set during season 8, so be careful if you don't want spoilers!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

drench yourself in words unspoken | foxwatson/@eddiediazes | 26.2k | T

the one where everything in canon is the same, except eddie diaz is secretly a bestselling romance author, and nobody knows. Yet. romance writer eddie is brilliant, the vision!! and this is so well-written <3

lazy sunday (lay with me) | thelikesofus/@thelikesofus | 1.3k | G

Buck wakes up to sleepy morning couch cuddles with his second favorite Diaz boy AKA Eddie is clingy in the morning. clingy eddie is so special to me <3 this captures that soft moning atmosphere perfectly!

line | the_one_that_fell/@buckvalentina | 4.4k | E

Eddie and Buck cross a line in an El Paso motel. okay but this fic. THIS FIC. they absolutely would do the in person phone sex no touching thing. it's so them i'm obsessed

please, i've been on my knees | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 11.6k | E

Buck discovers he has a kink. this is the most recent addition to the list, i only read it this morning! and wow what a way to wake up... a good day to be me. it's sweet and funny and hot and i loved research!buck <3

pumpkin spice and everything nice | PretentiousSwanQueen/@hotcinnamonsunset | 4k | M

Buck tries to get Eddie to accept one pumpkin spiced flavored something in his life and eventually finds success (in love and edibles). no but this fic is so right buck would love pumpkin spice and eddie wouldn't!! such a fun read!

songs and poems and promises | lesbianrobin/@lesbianrobin | 4.9k | E

“Stubble’s kinda crazy,” Buck says, “And it actually kinda drives me crazy. I didn’t think I’d be into that, you know? But it’s cool. Like, he’s a man, you know?” [...] “It’s just like, you know, even though it doesn’t feel as good, there are still all these new things that I didn’t expect I’d like so much.” in just a few lines this captures the firefam dynamics so well!! and the buddie is also brilliant of course. i had a great time with this one <3

stop waking me up in the middle of the night | reincrimination/@reincrimination | 2.3k | G

“Do you not like sleeping with me, Diaz?” Buck hazards, taking a swig of his nearly-empty bottle. [...] “If you would stop waking me up in the middle of the night, I might like it more,” Eddie sighs, half-genuine in his annoyance. “Buck kicks like a racehorse.” pandemic era buddie bed sharing fics hit so hard <3 this is lovely!!

sweetheart (you look a little tired) | EiraLloyd | 14.6k | T

five times Buck tried to cheer up Eddie with baked goods, and one time Eddie tried to cheer up Buck with baked goods. i love baking and i love buddie so basically this is perfect for me <3 had a lovely time reading through this earlier this week!!

the kiss that lingers | greenbergsays/@greenbergsays | 10.7k | E

5 times Eddie kisses Buck's birthmark & 1 time he doesn't. birthmark kisses my absolute beloved <3 soft and sweet and so them!!

too often the power of touch is underestimated | xjustlikeyou/@xjustlikeyou | 15.3k | T

Five times a touch knocked Eddie off his feet, and the one time he got to return the favor. buddie and eddiekaren bestieism what else could i possibly want <3 so good!!

the sincerest form of flattery | canadadry | 1.7k | NR

in which Brad Torrence only almost passes out, and observes the aftermath. brad torrence is the gift that keeps on giving <3 i loved his inner dialogue here!!

touching me, touching you | rainbow_nerds/@rainbow-nerdss | 7.1k | E

Buck and Eddie wake up one morning able to feel each other's touch. They make the most of it. i love the premise of this fic so so much, it's so cool?? and executed so well <3

what's your love language? | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 18.3k | E

After finding out that Eddie doesn't know what his love language is, Buck sets about finding out for him. He begins a five week experiment, one for each love language, to figure out which will make Eddie feel the most loved. this fic makes me go !!!! inside. i love the way buck goes all out to make eddie feel loved while also thinking it's the most normal thing in the world. and that ending!

you bring me comfort | thewolvesof1998/@thewolvesof1998 | 4.2k | T

Eddie is touched starved and just needs a hug instead, instead he has his sweater. i've read this so many times by now, it's an absolute favourite!! i'm a big fan of giving eddie comfort in whatever way he wants or needs <3

[reidmarieprentiss]

Technicalities

Summary: Based on this request! After a complicated friends-with-benefits relationship with Spencer, you confess your true feelings to him in a moment of vulnerability, only for things to fall apart. Both of you struggle with your feelings, leading to silence and regret. When Spencer realizes he can't let you go, he tries to fix things, but is it too late?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x IT fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, fwb, alcohol consumption, being drunk, hangover mention, (un)requited feelings, kind of fake dating/keeping up appearances, both Spencer and reader are dumb, happy ending i promise !!, i imagined somewhere season 4–8 Spencer

Word count: 29.2k

a/n: i'm so glad someone put in this request because i mostly had this story figured out but they saveddd my ass with this prompt so thank you !!! and yes i have only been focusing on this one lmao getting back to my other stories now my

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (f) receiving, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), breast play

The BAU bullpen was humming with the usual mid-week activity. Spencer Reid sat at his desk, frustration evident as he jabbed the keyboard of his computer, which remained frozen. A flash of error codes danced across the screen, none of which made sense to him—a rare occurrence, and one that only served to heighten his irritation. He let out a sigh, raking a hand through his hair as the team around him exchanged knowing glances. 

"Reid, you okay there?" Rossi’s voice came from a nearby desk, teasing and lighthearted as he looked up from his case files. 

"No," Spencer huffed, shaking his head. "My computer’s completely unresponsive, and I have a report due in—" he checked his watch for the sixth time in as many minutes "—an hour."

"Kevin's supposed to be here soon," JJ assured him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "He’ll fix it, don't worry."

Just as she spoke, the doors to the bullpen swung open, revealing someone none of them had seen before. You walked in, holding a laptop under one arm, the ID badge around your neck swinging slightly as you headed toward them with confident strides. A few of the team members exchanged glances, a mix of curiosity and amusement flickering in their eyes. 

Hotch cleared his throat, greeting you with a nod. "You're here for the computer issue?"

"Yeah, I’m the IT support on call while Penelope Garcia is away," you confirmed, offering a polite smile. "I heard there was a problem with Dr. Reid’s computer?" You looked around, trying to spot the agent who was in need of your help. 

Reid, already on edge, looked up with surprise, blinking as if he hadn't quite processed that it wasn't Kevin Lynch who was standing in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, clearly unsure how to respond to this unexpected change.

"I, um… expected Kevin," he finally mumbled, his voice betraying his slight unease. "I’ve never seen you before."

"Yeah, I took over his position," you explained, not missing a beat. "Penelope has mentioned you a few times, Dr. Reid." You held back a grin as you said this; she had described the team members in amusingly vivid detail. "She told me you like to keep your computer files meticulously organized."

Reid flushed slightly at the mention of his organization habits, and Derek, leaning back in his chair, raised a brow. “You know, this should be good,” he murmured under his breath, loud enough for the others to hear. Emily, who had taken a break from her own work to watch the scene unfold, leaned against her desk with a sly grin, clearly enjoying every second of it.

Spencer, however, was less amused. “It just stopped working,” he said, gesturing to the screen with a frustrated wave of his hand. “The whole thing’s frozen, and I can’t even get the task manager to open.”

"Sounds like it could be an issue with the registry or a corrupted file," you said, more to yourself than to anyone else, as you moved closer to his desk. "Mind if I take a look?"

Reid hesitated but eventually moved his chair to the side, allowing you access to his computer. As you set your laptop down and began connecting it to his system, the team observed with bated breath. Derek shot JJ a look, one that said he was clearly enjoying watching Spencer’s mild discomfort. 

Within seconds, you were typing furiously, navigating through various system files and directories, your eyes narrowing as you focused. Spencer’s eyes darted between the screen and your hands, trying to follow what you were doing, though he couldn’t quite keep up with your speed. You were faster than Kevin, more direct, and there was no room for small talk—just pure efficiency.

"There," you finally announced, pressing the enter key with a flourish. The screen blinked, flickered, and then—miraculously—sprang back to life, all files intact, and no trace of the error messages that had plagued it before.

Spencer blinked, stunned at how quickly you’d fixed it. He had been prepared for a long, awkward stretch of waiting, and yet you’d solved the problem almost effortlessly. He turned to you, feeling a touch of embarrassment creep up the back of his neck at his earlier impatience. “Wow… that was fast,” he admitted, his voice softer now, clearly humbled by your swift expertise.

“Glad I could help,” you said, your smile warm but professional as you started gathering your things. "It was just a couple of corrupted processes in the background. Shouldn't be an issue anymore, but if it acts up again, let me know."

Hotch nodded approvingly as you packed up, and Rossi gave a little chuckle. “Well, Reid, it looks like you're in good hands.”

Spencer, feeling that flush of gratitude and a bit of self-consciousness, turned back to you. "Thank you, really. I mean—I didn't mean to come off as... Well, thanks."

You nodded, the sincerity of his words clear despite his awkwardness. “No problem, Dr. Reid. I’m always around if you need anything fixed.” You threw a quick wave to the rest of the team before heading out, leaving Spencer sitting there, staring at his now fully functional computer, wondering how you’d made it all look so easy.

Once you were gone, Derek let out a low whistle. “Well, that was something.”

JJ smirked, turning to Spencer. “I’d say she handled you pretty well.”

Spencer huffed, his eyes narrowing playfully as he resumed his work, “I don’t need to be handled.”

—

Over the next few days, it seemed like Spencer was having an unprecedented run of technical issues. And they all, without fail, required your assistance.

It started innocently enough—a “network connectivity problem” that turned out to be nothing more than a loose cable. You had come by quickly, knelt beside his desk to adjust the cord, and, while fixing it, noticed the way his eyes followed your every move. His face had remained composed, but the flush to his cheeks when you stood up and announced the issue had been hard to miss. The team had shared knowing glances behind his back, each one barely concealing their smirks.

Then, just two hours later, his computer's fan started "making an odd noise." Of course, Spencer had once again denied that it could be a false alarm, claiming there was something seriously wrong with it. And you, being the professional you were, had obliged, leaning down to listen to the fan’s soft whirring as your fingers brushed against the side of the machine. He tried to maintain his cool—really, he did—but it was becoming more and more obvious that the fan was just fine. When you turned around, you caught the way his gaze shifted slightly down before flicking back to your face, trying to play it off as if he’d been looking at his notes.

"Spencer," you teased lightly, as you finished the quick check and stood up, "I’m starting to think you're trying to set a record for the number of help tickets submitted in a single week."

His reaction was immediate. "What? No, no, I just..." He ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly flustered but in a way that made your own stomach do a small flip. "I mean, I... really have been having a lot of issues lately." He tried to sound convincing, but his voice wavered just enough for you to know he didn’t even believe himself.

"Of course you have," you said with a playful smile, your voice just low enough that only he could hear the amusement in your tone. "Well, if anything else comes up... you know where to find me."

It didn’t stop there. Later that same day, when the team was preparing for a briefing, Spencer announced that the projector wasn't working. The rest of the team, sitting around the table, didn't even try to hide their grins this time. Hotch covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to cough. Derek leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and winked at Emily, who was openly chuckling now.

"Projector issues, huh?" you said as you walked in, the teasing lilt in your voice fully on display this time. You gave the machine a once-over, noticing that it was turned off—not broken. You pressed the power button, and, sure enough, the screen flickered to life immediately, the bright display shining against the conference room wall. "Looks like it just... needed to be turned on."

"Rookie mistake," Spencer said quickly, trying to sound like it was a simple oversight. But the way he shifted in his seat, his lips pressing into a thin line, made it clear he knew how obvious his ploy had become. "I... appreciate you coming all the way up here for that."

"Oh, anytime," you replied, flashing him a smile that he swore could melt glass. You took a moment to adjust a cord, bending slightly as you did, and while Spencer’s eyes followed your movement, you couldn’t miss the way his gaze trailed down, lingering for a split second before he caught himself. He quickly straightened in his chair, clearing his throat as he looked back to his teammates, who were all trying their best to act like they weren’t paying attention. 

Once you were done with the projector, you turned back around and leaned against the table, arms folded across your chest, watching him with an amused twinkle in your eyes. You'd expected him to be bumbling and shy—most people warned you of Dr. Reid's reserved nature. But as you looked at him now, there was a new spark in his eyes, a confidence you didn't expect. It was as if he'd picked up on the fact that you didn’t mind his attention. In fact, you welcomed it.

The projector working perfectly now, he got up from his chair, and instead of sitting back down, he stepped closer to where you stood. “You know,” he said, lowering his voice so only you could hear, “I think I’ve run into more technical issues this week than I have all year.”

“Oh really?” you raised an eyebrow, enjoying this new, more self-assured side of him. “Well, if it happens again... you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, his voice just a touch deeper than usual, and his gaze fixed directly on yours. And the way he looked at you, intense yet amused, sent a shiver down your spine. There was nothing shy or bumbling about it—he knew what he was doing.

Just as you felt the tension build between the two of you, Derek’s voice cut through the air, loud and teasing. “Reid, man, I don’t know what’s going on with your computer, but I have a feeling you might need to get a whole new system. You know, one that doesn’t break every day.”

The rest of the team laughed, and you bit your lip, trying not to laugh too openly yourself as you gathered your things and prepared to leave. Spencer, on the other hand, only rolled his eyes, but his lips curved into a small, confident smile as he looked back at you.

“See you around, Dr. Reid,” you said, your voice carrying just enough playfulness to make sure the message was clear.

“Counting on it,” he replied smoothly, that glimmer of confidence shining in his eyes as you turned to leave, feeling his gaze on you the whole way out of the room. And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, his computer would stop working again very soon.

—

When Penelope returned from her vacation the following week, it felt like the bullpen lit up with vibrant color. Her laughter and colorful essense filled the space in a way that only she could manage. It was clear that the whole team was happy to have her back—JJ had hugged her so tightly Penelope squealed, Hotch had given her one of his rare, genuine smiles, even Rossi, always a gentleman, had brought her a coffee from her favorite café.

And Spencer, who adored his friend, had a huge smile on his face as she bounced over to his desk to give him a bear hug. However, as he sat back down, his smile faltered ever so slightly. Because, with Penelope back, it meant that all the “technical difficulties” he’d been experiencing for the past week would no longer require your assistance. And, truth be told, he was going to miss those visits—the way you’d walk in with that teasing smile of yours, lean over his desk to fix whatever nonexistent problem he’d concocted, and exchange playful banter that left him feeling... well, giddy.

“Pretty boy,” Derek’s voice called out from across the bullpen, dripping with humor and teasing, “what are you gonna do now? You know Miss Penny’s not going to come running every time you snap your fingers.”

Spencer’s eyes shot daggers at Derek, but that only made Morgan’s grin grow wider, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look. Spencer tried to school his expression into one of mild indifference, but the tips of his ears were already turning red. It was like a beacon—he might as well have hung up a sign that read “Caught.”

“Yeah, Reid,” Emily chimed in, her laughter ringing through the bullpen as she joined in on the teasing. “Is your computer going to start magically working again? Or should we expect another week of ‘emergency’ projector repairs and ‘technical malfunctions’?” 

JJ chuckled, shaking her head as she flipped through case files. “Seriously, Spence, I think your computer had more issues last week than it has since I’ve known you. It's kind of impressive, really.”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped just a little as he leaned over his desk, trying to focus on the file in front of him, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed his feigned annoyance. “It’s not like I... meant for anything to happen,” he mumbled, a poor attempt at innocence that only made everyone laugh harder.

“Oh, sure, sure, Dr. Reid,” Derek said, his tone dripping with exaggerated belief. “I’m sure it was all just a big ol’ coincidence that your computer broke down every time she walked by.” He stood up and sauntered over to Spencer’s desk, leaning against the side as he grinned. “Admit it—you liked having her around. And don’t even try to deny it. We all saw you staring.”

Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but he found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t exactly say that it wasn’t true—because, well, it was. He had liked having you around, more than he cared to admit, even to himself. But he also wasn’t quite ready to face the full brunt of Derek’s teasing, nor the knowing looks that Emily and JJ were exchanging. He settled for glaring at Morgan instead, trying to look as offended as possible, though it only ended up making him look mildly sheepish.

“What can I say?” Penelope chimed in, swirling over to join the conversation, hands on her hips as she gave Spencer a playful wag of her finger. “Apparently, Dr. Reid’s computer has abandonment issues that only manifest when I'm gone. Who knew?”

The team burst into laughter, and Spencer, resigned to the teasing, just shook his head. “Fine, laugh all you want,” he said, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress his grin. “I can handle my own computer problems from now on, okay?”

“Yeah, right,” Emily scoffed. “Sure you can.”

JJ, still chuckling, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Well, if you do run into any more issues... I’m sure you know exactly who to call.”

Spencer nodded, the grin finally breaking free across his face, because they were right—he did know who to call. He couldn’t help but replay the last week in his mind, all those moments spent with you at his desk, your quick wit, and how easy it was to talk to you. He wasn’t quite ready to let that go just yet.

The thought sparked something bold inside him—something not unlike the confidence he’d felt when you were around. As the team’s laughter finally died down and they went back to their work, Spencer pulled up his email. He went into his contacts and found your name, saved from the last time you’d fixed his “broken” computer. And as he looked at it, that same spark of confidence urged him to do something he normally wouldn’t have done.

With a grin playing on his lips and a slight blush creeping up his neck, he sent you an email.

Hello–

Dr. Reid, here. Just wanted to let you know that my computer's working perfectly now... though I'd still love to see you again. Maybe for a drink this time, instead of a repair?

Hope to hear from you soon.

—Dr. Spencer Reid

And with that, Spencer leaned back in his chair, waiting for your reply with a flutter in his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips, and the whole team none the wiser.

—

Three days felt like an eternity to Spencer. He had replayed every interaction with you in his mind—every word, every smile, every touch as you fixed his "malfunctioning" devices. He was sure—almost sure—that you liked him. But now, as those days stretched on without any word from you, that confidence wavered, then crumbled. 

It started out as just a bit of hopeful waiting—maybe you were busy. Maybe you hadn’t seen the message. Or maybe you were just figuring out the right way to respond. But by Wednesday, the optimism that had carried him through the week turned into something else entirely. Desperation. Every few minutes, he compulsively checked his phone, or his computer, swiping to refresh his email, pulling up his call logs, checking even his office mailbox just in case he’d missed something. Nothing. Always nothing. 

The team had started to notice, the way his attention darted to his screens every few minutes, the little sighs of disappointment that followed when no message awaited him. 

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek’s voice broke through his distracted thoughts that Wednesday afternoon, his tone still light but tinged with concern. “What’s got you all twitchy? You’ve been staring at that phone like it owes you money.”

Spencer quickly dropped his phone, face burning as if he’d been caught in some embarrassing act. “It’s nothing,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just... waiting for a message.”

JJ, passing by, raised an eyebrow as she handed out case files. “Anyone important?” she asked softly, the concern evident in her voice as she leaned over his desk.

Spencer shook his head, shrugging off their questions. “No one important. It’s nothing, really.” But as soon as their attention drifted away from him, he found his eyes creeping back to his screen, a dull ache settling in his chest. Each time he saw no new message, that ache tightened just a little more, wrapping around his ribs like a cold hand squeezing the life out of him.

By Thursday, he had almost entirely given up hope. He sat at his desk, staring blankly at his work, the notes and case files a jumble of words that he couldn’t seem to make sense of. All he could think about was that email he’d sent, the one you hadn’t answered. He was sure he’d crossed some kind of line—maybe you hadn’t been interested in the first place, maybe he’d completely misread the signals. And God, wouldn’t that just be the most classic Spencer Reid thing? Missing the social cues, seeing things that weren’t there, building up a fantasy in his mind that didn’t actually exist.

A quiet voice whispered in his head, one that had lived there since he was a kid—the voice that said he wasn’t good enough, that he would never be good enough. That maybe he was destined to always fall for people who could never fall for him. Another woman who slipped away, another chance he’d fumbled. 

Hotch’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, deep and steady. “Reid, are you alright?” he asked, his gaze steady and concerned.

Spencer looked up, startled to find the whole team watching him, worry etched across their faces. He quickly nodded, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah. I’m fine, just... tired.”

“Right,” Emily said, her voice skeptical as she exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them clearly sharing a silent conversation. But they let it go, turning back to their work, and leaving Spencer to his thoughts once more.

He slumped back in his chair, eyes fixed on the empty email screen before him. And that was when he let it sink in—that gnawing feeling of defeat, that familiar loneliness that had shadowed so much of his life. He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget you, to pretend like he didn’t care. But as much as he tried to shove those feelings down, the truth was undeniable: he had liked you. Really liked you. And now, it was just another reminder of what he couldn’t have.

Typical, he thought bitterly, fingers tapping against the desk as he stared blankly at the computer screen. I’m not good enough.

And so, as Thursday drew to a close, he resolved to let it go, to accept that whatever fleeting hope he’d had for something more was just that—a fleeting hope, nothing real. 

If only he knew how wrong he was. 

By the time Friday rolled around, the BAU team had had just about enough of Spencer's sullen mood. For days, he’d been dragging his feet around the office, sighing dramatically, and staring into space as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. He was distracted, more than usual, and his sharp wit had dulled under the cloud of whatever was plaguing him. 

Finally, Derek had had enough. “Reid, man, you need to loosen up,” he declared that afternoon, tossing a ballpoint pen at Spencer, who caught it with a look of mild annoyance. “We’re going to O’Keefe’s tonight. You’re coming with us, and that’s not a suggestion.”

Spencer glanced around the room, seeing the supportive yet firm looks from the others—Emily, JJ, Rossi, and even Hotch, who gave a slight nod of approval. There was no way he was going to get out of it, and frankly, part of him didn’t want to. He had been hoping to spend his weekend taking you out for drinks, but since that clearly wasn’t happening, drinks with his team seemed like the next best thing.

“Alright, fine,” he said, agreeing quickly, much to the surprise of everyone around him. A chorus of cheers and supportive pats on the shoulder met his response, and for a moment, he felt a flicker of something other than that disappointment that had been lodged in his chest all week.

So that evening, they made their way to O’Keefe’s, a no-frills cop bar that had become something of a second home for the team. They settled into a large booth by one of the pool tables, ordering rounds of beers, mixed drinks, and, for Spencer, a hard Arnold Palmer. He sat across from JJ, who nursed her own drink and was trying to keep the conversation light and fun, though she couldn’t quite pull Spencer out of his funk.

“Come on, Spence,” she said, taking a sip of her drink and smiling warmly at him. “It’s Friday and Penelope’s back. Lighten up. You’ll be kicking everyone’s butt at pool soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer said, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine, JJ, really. Just... tired.” He played with the straw in his drink, his gaze drifting to the pool table where Derek and Emily were embroiled in a heated game, Rossi leaning against the wall and calling out tips that neither of them listened to.

JJ was about to press him further when her eyes went wide, and a grin spread across her face. She leaned forward suddenly, her expression brightening with mischief as she looked just over Spencer’s shoulder. “What?” he asked, furrowing his brows at her sudden change in demeanor, confused by the excitement lighting up her eyes.

JJ just nodded toward the bar, barely able to contain her grin. “Your girl’s here,” she said, in a sing-song voice that only JJ could pull off without sounding ridiculous.

Spencer’s heart nearly stopped, a wave of hope and disbelief washing over him. He turned around quickly, eyes scanning the crowd of off-duty officers, detectives, and FBI agents mingling around the room. And then he saw you. Standing by the bar, chatting casually with the bartender as you waited for your drink, you looked effortlessly stunning, the dim lights of the bar casting a soft glow on your features.

He whipped back around to face JJ, panic and excitement mingling in his expression. “What—what do I do?” He sounded more flustered than he’d meant to, and JJ couldn’t help but laugh at his wide-eyed bewilderment.

“Well, you could start by getting up and talking to her, genius,” she said with a teasing nudge. “I think that’s a pretty good place to start.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped up from the booth, nearly knocking over his drink in his haste, and made his way over to the bar, trying to gather his composure with each step. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind—was this just a coincidence? Had you come here to see him? What if you were here with someone else? He shook his head, trying to push the nervous thoughts away as he closed the gap between you.

You looked up just as he approached, a soft smile spreading across your lips as your eyes met his. “Dr. Reid,” you said in greeting, the warmth in your voice making his nerves settle—just a little.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little breathless as he stood beside you. He struggled for words, trying to find the right thing to say, the right way to act after days of silence. “I, uh... didn’t expect to see you here.”

Spencer’s eyes took in your appearance as you stood before him, and he couldn’t help but let his profiler instincts kick in, analyzing every detail of your outfit. You looked effortlessly polished, your blazer open just enough to be casual yet elegant, paired with a skirt that hit the perfect balance of professional and playful. He couldn’t shake the thought—had you dressed up for someone? The idea made his stomach twist with nerves.

The silence stretched between you, and you shifted slightly on your feet, clearly trying to gauge his reaction. You nodded awkwardly, your voice trailing off, “Yeah…”

Spencer looked at you, trying to make sense of everything. His palms started to sweat, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Are you... meeting someone here?”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you let out an awkward laugh, your hands playing with the strap of your bag as you shrugged. “You? Hopefully?” You gave a half-smile, one that was both hopeful and embarrassed. “I mean, I never heard back from you, so I was kind of... taking a chance here.”

Spencer's brows furrowed, and he felt his head start to spin. What did you mean you never heard back from him? He felt like the ground was moving beneath him as he tried to piece together what could have happened. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet, uncertainty and panic creeping in.

You let out another nervous laugh, clearly unsure of what to make of his reaction. “It’s okay if you changed your mind,” you said quickly, looking down at your drink as if it held all the answers you needed. “Let’s not make this any more awkward, please. I just... didn’t want to let it be this weird thing hanging over us, y’know?”

The words hit him like a freight train. Changed his mind? No—no, that wasn’t right. He never changed his mind. In fact, he had been waiting on pins and needles for a response from you, thinking that you were the one who had changed your mind. But something clearly had gone wrong, and Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to figure out how to salvage the moment, how to explain himself to you without making things worse.

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I didn’t change my mind. I... I sent you a message, I swear. I thought you were the one who... didn’t respond.” He could hear how frantic he sounded, and he hated it, hated that he was coming across as desperate, but it was the truth. “I’ve been checking my phone for days, I swear—”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your expression filled with curiosity and sympathy. Spencer’s clear panic, the earnest way he was nearly tripping over his own words, had you leaning towards trusting his side of things. He didn’t seem like the type to play games, and that flicker of hope in his eyes as he watched you seemed genuine—almost too genuine. 

“Can I see your phone, Dr. Reid?” you asked, holding out your hand. Your tone was light but held a hint of authority, like you were about to solve one of his computer problems again, only this time, with a very different sort of error. 

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he immediately fumbled in his pocket, fishing out the device with shaky hands. “Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, handing it over to you without hesitation. He was clearly desperate for an explanation, any explanation that didn’t involve you losing interest in him. 

You took his phone and your fingers flew across the screen, pulling up his email app, your expression turning more focused as you scanned through the settings. He watched you, nervous but fascinated at how deftly you navigated through his phone, a slight furrow forming on his brow as you did... whatever it was you were doing. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he hoped for a miracle. 

Then, all of a sudden, you let out a small, involuntary snort—a sound so genuine and cute that it caught Spencer off guard. His heart did a flip in his chest at how unguarded and... normal it was. It wasn't a laugh of mockery, but a laugh of oh, of course.

“What?” he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, but unable to hide the edge of panic creeping back in. “What did you find?”

You flipped the phone around to show him the screen, and there, clear as day, was the culprit. “You have your email set to send unknown contacts to spam,” you explained with a bemused smile. Your finger pointed to the tiny, barely noticeable setting, and there, nestled in his spam folder, was your email—unread, unopened, and very much the response he had been waiting for.

Spencer stared at the screen, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment crash over him like a tidal wave. “Oh my God,” he breathed, looking from his phone to you and back again, his face flushing a deep shade of red. “I... I didn’t— I had no idea that setting was on.” He let out a slightly shaky laugh, and then another, the tension melting from his body as he realized how silly this whole situation had been.

“Yeah, looks like you had a 'filter spam' setting for any emails from unknown contacts,” you said, the teasing tone in your voice unmistakable. “So my email went straight to your spam folder. Not exactly where I wanted it to end up.”

He let out another nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head at himself. “I am... so sorry. I spent the last few days thinking... well, thinking you just didn’t want to respond.”

“Trust me,” you said, smiling as you handed his phone back, “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I was kind of doing the same thing.��� You bit your lip, giving him a small, conspiratorial grin. “So... do we get to hit the reset button on that? Maybe... pretend like I never ended up in your spam folder in the first place?”

Spencer nodded eagerly, grateful beyond words for your understanding. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Yes, please. Reset button. I’d like that very much.”

“Good,” you said, lifting your glass in his direction again, that warmth in your eyes making his stomach do another flip. “So... let’s start over.” 

“Yeah,” he replied, meeting your gaze with a smile that finally reached his eyes. “Let’s start over.” And as he raised his own drink to yours, Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relieved—so genuinely happy—as he did right then.

You grabbed a drink and settled in beside Spencer, sliding into the booth with an ease that immediately lightened the mood. The team noticed the shift instantly. Derek raised his eyebrows, nudging Emily with a smirk as they all watched you laugh, Spencer's posture now more relaxed than they'd seen all week. 

“Hey, guys,” you greeted, giving a wave to the rest of the team as they took you in. “Hope you don’t mind if I crash the party.”

“Mind?” Emily grinned, tossing her pool cue over her shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up all week.”

“Yeah, and give us a chance to figure out what’s got pretty boy here all tied up in knots,” Derek added with a teasing wink. Spencer flushed but didn’t look away from you, a rare boldness shining through as you held his gaze.

“Well, glad I could make the diagnosis clear,” you joked back, leaning into the banter as if you’d known them for years. You turned to Spencer, who looked slightly flustered but undeniably happy. “So, Dr. Reid, do you play pool, or is that not your style?”

Spencer’s eyes twinkled with that familiar spark of confidence you’d seen before. “I do,” he admitted, leaning in just a touch closer. “But I have to warn you, I'm not exactly an amateur.”

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms in mock challenge. “I might have to see that for myself. Maybe you could give me a few pointers?”

The playful energy between you was palpable, and JJ’s laugh cut through the noise of the bar. “Oh, this is going to be good,” she murmured to Rossi, who was sipping his drink with a satisfied smile, clearly enjoying the way the night was unfolding. 

Derek hopped up from his seat, grabbing another cue and handing it over to you. “Alright, newcomer, you're up. Let’s see if you can hold your own against Spencer 'Einstein' Reid here.”

You grinned, accepting the cue as you approached the pool table. “So, any rules I should know about?” you asked, pretending to be oblivious as you leaned over the table to line up a shot.

Spencer stood beside you, his own cue resting against his side as he cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, his voice taking on a soft, instructive tone, “it's all about angles and force. You have to judge the best way to break the rack and control the white cue ball.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your expression playful. “Think you could... show me?” You took your stance, leaning down to take the first shot, but purposefully not quite getting it right, leaving plenty of room for Spencer to join you. 

Spencer, catching on to your flirtation, stepped behind you. He placed his hands over yours, gently guiding your grip on the cue stick, his voice low in your ear as he explained. “Like this,” he said, positioning your hands. “And you want to keep your body steady, like this.” His chest brushed lightly against your back, and you couldn’t help but smile at the closeness, the tension thickening between you.

You let him guide the shot, and as the cue ball cracked against the rack, the other balls scattered across the table in a perfect spread. You both stood back, admiring the shot, and he met your eyes with a triumphant grin. “Not bad, huh?”

You let out a laugh, turning to face him fully. “I think you’re a pretty good teacher, Dr. Reid,” you said, holding his gaze. “Though I get the feeling you're holding back on me. I might need a few more... lessons.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and there was a flicker of challenge in his eyes that you found irresistibly charming. “Oh, don't worry,” he said, leaning just close enough for your shoulders to brush. “I can think of a few more things to show you.”

The rest of the team watched with amusement as the two of you circled around the pool table, trading flirty remarks and friendly taunts, the ease between you growing more natural with every passing minute. The night was fresh, fun, and filled with laughter, and as you leaned in closer to Spencer, both of you barely hiding your smiles, it was clear that this wasn’t just a simple bar game anymore. 

It was the start of something much more promising.

The night at O’Keefe’s stretched on, the hours slipping by in the warm haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and the quiet spark between you and Spencer. As the drinks flowed, so did the stories—Rossi sharing old tales from his early days in the FBI, Emily chiming in with outrageous anecdotes about undercover missions gone wrong, and Derek doing impressions of just about everyone on the team, much to everyone’s amusement.

Slowly, the night began to wind down, the team peeling off one by one. Hotch checked his watch, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, Jack’s probably still up waiting for me to get home,” he said, downing the rest of his drink in one smooth motion. “I should get going.”

“Yeah,” JJ added with a sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she stood up from the booth. “Henry’s going to be bouncing off the walls early tomorrow morning. Can’t wait to find out what he’s gotten into this time.” She gave Spencer a warm hug and then shot you a quick, friendly smile. “It was great meeting you officially, by the way. Take care of our boy, okay?”

“I will,” you said, grinning back as she squeezed your arm. You watched as JJ and Hotch made their way to the door, exchanging goodbyes with the team, leaving the booth feeling a little emptier.

“Alright,” Rossi said a few moments later, patting Emily on the back and standing to stretch. “I suppose it’s my turn to play chauffeur. Ready, Emily?”

Emily, who had already been halfway through another drink, rolled her eyes dramatically. “Guess that’s my cue.” She gave you a friendly nod. “Don’t let these two tease you too much,” she said, motioning toward Derek and Penelope. “They can be relentless.”

Rossi chuckled, giving Spencer a knowing look. “Behave, kid,” he said with a wink, before guiding Emily toward the exit, the two of them laughing as they disappeared into the night.

That left you, Spencer, Derek, and Penelope at the booth. Penelope, however, had clearly been indulging in a few too many drinks and was staring mournfully into her glass, tears welling up in her eyes. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about... the mom in Bambi,” she hiccuped, her voice cracking with an exaggerated sob. “She didn’t deserve to die, Derek! She... she didn’t even see it coming!”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Derek said with a gentle smile, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s get you home before you start on The Lion King or we’ll be here all night.”

“Simba...” Penelope wailed as Derek guided her toward the door, waving haphazardly to you and Spencer. “Poor Simba...”

“Alright, that’s our cue,” Derek said as he all but carried Penelope away, glancing back over his shoulder with a wicked grin. “You two lovebirds stay out of trouble now.” He waggled his eyebrows, his voice dropping into a teasing, mock-serious tone. “And remember—use protection. I don’t need to be godfather to any surprise Reid juniors.”

Your face flushed at his words, and you let out an awkward laugh, waving him off. “Jeez!”

Spencer, equally flustered but trying to play it cool, cleared his throat and gave Derek a tight-lipped smile. “Goodnight, Morgan.”

“Night, pretty boy!” Derek called back, dragging Penelope out the door as she continued to mumble something about baby deer and heartbreak.

And then it was just you and Spencer, the bar a little quieter now that most of the team had gone, leaving an intimacy to the moment that hadn’t been there before. He looked at you, the smile on his face softer than it had been all night. “Well,” he said, voice low as he leaned a little closer, “looks like it’s just the two of us now.”

“Yeah,” you replied, meeting his eyes, feeling the warm, heady buzz of the night settling around you. “Just us.” 

Spencer's eyes were locked on yours, and for a moment, it seemed like time stood still around you both. The sounds of the bar, the chatter of remaining patrons, and even the buzz of the city outside faded into a background hum, leaving just you, him, and the heavy sense of something left unsaid. He didn't want another week of doubt, didn't want to leave this up to chance again, and it was that thought—that fear of missing out on whatever this was—that spurred him to do something he never would have considered before tonight.

He took a breath, inching closer to you, and you felt the shift immediately, the way his whole demeanor seemed to change—his usual hesitance giving way to a new, quiet confidence. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips, just for a moment, before meeting your gaze again. And then, before you could say anything, before you could second-guess or tease him for the boldness, he leaned in.

The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt the soft tickle of his breath against your ear, making your skin tingle. His voice was low, intimate, and sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. “I don’t... I don’t want to let you walk out of here and spend another week wondering if you’re thinking about me the way I’m thinking about you.”

You turned your head slightly, your noses almost brushing as you found yourself face-to-face with him, his eyes so close to yours that you could see every fleck of gold and green in their depths. “Spencer...” you whispered, your voice breathy and light, caught somewhere between surprise and excitement. 

“Come home with me?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with an urgency you’d never heard from him before. 

You nodded, the word catching in your throat as you stared at him, the world around you dissolving into just Spencer—the wild curls falling into his face, the way his eyes held yours as if there was no one else in the room. You half-expected him to kiss you then and there, the air thick with anticipation, your breath mingling, but instead, he did something that made your heart race even faster. 

He pulled back just slightly, that gentle smile never leaving his face, and grabbed your hand firmly in his. It was a simple gesture, but the way he intertwined his fingers with yours felt electric, like everything you'd both been holding back had suddenly found its outlet. And then, without another word, he tugged you along, weaving his way through the crowd, barely giving you a chance to react before he was guiding you out of the bar, his fingers tightening around yours as he dragged you toward the door.

You followed without hesitation, caught up in his momentum, and the night air hit you like a splash of cool water as you both stumbled outside. Spencer’s eyes darted around, searching for a cab, and his breath came fast—not from exertion, but from the sheer thrill of the moment, the heady realization that you were with him, that this was happening. 

As soon as he spotted an empty cab, his hand shot up, flagging it down. He opened the door for you, his eyes meeting yours once more, a question lingering in them—a last, silent “Are you sure?” But the look on your face was answer enough, filled with excitement, nerves, and that same intoxicating certainty.

He followed you into the backseat, and as soon as the door shut, his knee brushed yours, and he laced his fingers with yours again, not letting go for even a second. The cab driver’s voice was a distant hum as Spencer gave his address, and then the car pulled away, the city lights blurring by as you sat side by side, hands clasped together, hearts pounding in sync.

This was the beginning of something you couldn’t quite name, but you knew one thing for sure—there was no way either of you would let it slip through your fingers.

The cab ride felt like an eternity, yet all too brief at the same time. Spencer's hand never let go of yours, fingers entwined tightly as if holding on for dear life. He was trying so hard to stay composed, but you could see it—the way his knee bounced nervously, how his thumb traced tiny circles over your knuckles, his breath quickening each time your shoulders brushed. You were both suspended in that heady anticipation, caught between knowing and not knowing what would happen next, and it made every second feel electric.

When the cab finally pulled up in front of his apartment, Spencer fumbled with his wallet, tossing cash to the driver with an almost frantic urgency. You followed him out into the night, and the minute your feet hit the pavement, he was pulling you along with him again, guiding you up the steps to his building, his grip still tight on your hand. 

You hardly noticed the details of his apartment building as you rushed up the stairs. Every step felt like a race, a heartbeat, and you were both half-running, half-laughing, breaths coming fast from excitement more than exertion. And then you were at his door, and Spencer’s fingers were shaking just slightly as he worked the keys, the metal clinking in his hands before the lock finally clicked open. 

The door swung open, and the two of you tumbled into his apartment, breathless and caught up in the whirlwind of it all. For a split second, the room seemed still, the tension thick as you stood in his entryway, just inches apart. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, could see the way his chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, and you waited—waited for that final move, for him to close the space between you.

And then he did.

Spencer's hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in, eyes locking on yours with an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. And when his lips finally met yours, soft yet urgent, it was like fireworks—white-hot and bright behind your eyes, the world exploding into a thousand colors and sensations. The kiss was everything and nothing like you���d expected: gentle yet hungry, trembling yet sure, like he’d been holding back for so long and finally, finally let the dam break.

You melted into him, your hands finding the front of his shirt, balling up the fabric in your fists to pull him closer. His other hand slid around your waist, drawing you in until there was no space left between your bodies, just heat and breath and the taste of him, sweet and real. You could feel him smile against your lips, a quick exhale of a laugh as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening either, but didn’t want to stop long enough to find out if it was a dream.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, and he pulled you even closer, backing you up against the door until you were pressed against it, the wood cool against your back while every inch of him pressed into you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as if anchoring himself to you, and you tilted your head, letting him kiss you deeper, letting the kiss say all the things the two of you hadn’t yet put into words.

You could feel the thrill, the longing, the nervousness all at once, but there was also something so simple, so right in the way you fit together.

Spencer’s mind was spinning, like he was trying to piece together a thousand thoughts and sensations all at once. Finally having you in his arms—feeling the warmth of your body pressed to his, the taste of your lips—was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Sure, it had only been two weeks since he met you, but the intensity was overwhelming. Every touch, every kiss was like kindling, igniting a fire in him that burned hotter and brighter than he knew was possible.

And you? Being held so close by him, feeling his desperation and his need, made your heart race with its own frantic rhythm. It was an honor to be desired like this, especially by someone like Spencer—someone so brilliant, so genuinely good, and so intensely captivated by you. And to think that you’d had a secret crush on him for the last six months, ever since you first started at the FBI. You had admired him from a distance—the genius profiler, the man who seemed to know so much yet still carried himself with a gentle shyness that only made him more endearing. You’d never thought he’d even notice you, let alone look at you like this, like you were the only thing in the world he wanted.

When he finally started to notice you—those glances, the excuses for “technical help” that grew more and more frequent—you felt your world tilt on its axis. The way he looked at you was different from how he looked at anyone else, and when his eyes locked with yours, you could feel yourself leaning into that gravitational pull, your heart skipping in time with his.

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice came out as a whisper against your lips, trembling and rough, like he was fighting to keep control, fighting to hold himself back just enough to give you the choice. “I want you so bad... please say I can have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft, almost breathless laugh, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. The need in his eyes, the raw desire that seemed to consume every part of him—it was everything you’d secretly wished for, everything you’d imagined late at night when your mind wandered to the idea of being his.

“You can,” you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him, to let him see the truth in your eyes. “You can have me, Spencer. I’m yours.” 

And that was all it took for the dam to break. Spencer’s mouth was on yours again, hungrier this time, a deep, desperate need spilling from his lips to yours as he kissed you like he was starved for you. He pressed you harder against the door, and his hands roamed your body—first up your sides, then down to your waist, finally settling on your hips as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on, and he groaned softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating through you and making your knees go weak. You wanted all of him—his intensity, his passion, and the vulnerable tenderness that only made you crave him more.

“Tell me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and ragged. “Tell me what you want. I want to know... I need to know.” His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the urgency in every movement, every touch, like he was holding on to the very thing he’d dreamed of but never thought he could have.

You looked at him, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive. “I want you, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long. “I want everything with you. Right now.”

Spencer's grin was wicked and hungry, and the look in his eyes left you feeling like you were the only person in the world. You could see the wheels turning behind them—he was trying to make sense of what you wanted, to understand the boundaries, to feel out how much of himself he could give without overstepping. And when you said you wanted "everything," his mind had latched onto one word, one meaning: sex. That was something tangible, something he knew how to give, even if his experience was limited. 

If that was what you were willing to give, he would take it gladly, wholeheartedly—because how could he not? But deep down, beneath all the desire and adrenaline, Spencer craved so much more than just the physical. He had wanted you in ways he couldn’t articulate—ever since you’d started drifting into his orbit. He wanted late-night conversations, sleepy mornings, whispered confessions. He wanted everything you could give him, but if all you meant by "everything" was this, he would be grateful for that, too.

“I’ll give you everything,” he murmured, and his grin grew as he leaned in to kiss you again, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away just slightly. “But maybe we move to the bedroom first?”

Your breath hitched, and you could feel that flutter of excitement and nerves in your chest—the reality of the moment crashing over you like a wave. His words were laced with promise, but it wasn’t the promise you’d thought you were making. To you, “everything” meant his mornings, his afternoons, his nights. His laugh, his thoughts, his fears. You’d been hoping that what had been building between you would lead to more than just the physical; that it would be the start of something that might change both of your lives.

But he’d taken your words as permission to have you tonight—just tonight—and it stung, deep and sharp, like a thorn pricking at your heart. Maybe you’d been wrong to hope for more, wrong to believe there was something real between you beyond just lust and impulse. But if this was all Spencer wanted, then maybe that was enough for now. Maybe it could be enough to have him like this, to be close to him, even if just for one night.

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing the emotions rising in your throat as you forced a smile, doing your best to mirror his energy, to make it seem like you wanted the same thing he did. “The bedroom sounds good.”

He took your hand, his fingers lacing with yours once again, and you tried to push away the disappointment that sat like a stone in your chest. He led you down the hall, fumbling as you both stumbled through the doorway to his room, all tangled limbs and laughter. Spencer tugged you close as soon as you stepped inside, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him, his mouth finding yours once more in a feverish, open-mouthed kiss. And for a second, just a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe that maybe there was more behind his touch—that maybe this wasn’t just about tonight.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling,” Spencer murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers tangled in the fabric of your blazer. His knuckles brushed against your skin, and his eyes were dark, wide, as if taking in every inch of you all at once. He hesitated for a moment, searching your face, and when he found nothing but eagerness in your eyes, he whispered, “Can I take this off?”

You nodded quickly, the movement of your head almost frantic, and Spencer didn’t waste any time. His hands moved to the buttons of your blazer, deft but slightly trembling with anticipation as he worked his way down, one button at a time. And then, as the fabric slipped away, revealing your bare chest, he let out a low, shaky sigh. “Fuck...” he groaned, the word spilling from his lips like he couldn’t help himself, his eyes locked onto you as if he’d never seen anything so perfect in his life.

You couldn’t help but giggle, the sound light and airy as you reveled in the intensity of his gaze, in the way he looked at you like he was worshiping you. But your laughter quickly turned into a sharp gasp as his hands moved to your breasts, gripping them firmly yet tenderly, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. His palms were warm against your skin, and the way he touched you—like he was savoring every second, every inch—made heat pool in your belly.

Spencer didn’t give you much time to adjust before he dove back in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was hungrier, rougher than before. His fingers dug into your skin as he pulled you closer, molding your body to his as his mouth moved against yours in frantic desperation. Every movement, every brush of his lips, every squeeze of his hands sent sparks shooting down your spine, and you clung to him, matching his intensity with your own as you kissed him back.

He pressed you back toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, and you let him guide you, your back arching under his touch as you felt the cool air of his apartment against your skin, mixing with the heat of his mouth and hands. And the way he touched you, held you, kissed you, left you breathless—his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples, making your back arch dramatically. 

"Spencer!" you whined into the darkness, your voice breathy and desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer and drag him deeper into you. The sound of his name fell from your lips like a plea, and he shuddered at the way it sounded, every syllable dripping with want. 

"Mmm, say my name again," he groaned, loving the way it felt rolling off your tongue—how it made him feel like he was all you needed, all you wanted. 

“Make me,” you challenged, your voice dipping into a teasing taunt as you tugged lightly at his hair, daring him, pushing him to meet you on this knife’s edge between play and need.

Spencer’s eyes flashed, the darkness of the room amplifying the heat in his gaze. His mouth quirked into a dark smile, and he dipped down, kissing a burning path from your collarbone to your chest. He paused there, nipping at the sensitive skin, his teeth scraping against you, catching the bud of your nipple in his mouth. He held your gaze as he did it, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch in your throat. He sucked lightly, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, your back arching off the bed. But still, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds, not willing to give in to him—yet.

"You want to play it like that?" he asked darkly, pulling back to hover over you, his voice a rough whisper that made your stomach flip. The challenge in his eyes, the way they glittered with a mix of hunger and determination, left you breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation.

You nodded, giving him wide, falsely innocent eyes that only spurred him on. "Yeah," you breathed, voice light and taunting, the hint of a smirk on your lips. "What are you gonna do about it, Dr. Reid?"

A growl escaped his throat, low and rough, and his hands moved to your waist, finding the zipper of your skirt. Slowly, methodically, he dragged it down, the sound of the metal teeth parting filling the silence between your racing breaths. He didn’t break eye contact as he did it, his fingers brushing along your hip, pushing the fabric down inch by inch, teasing you, making you wait—making you squirm.

"Let's see how long you can keep up that attitude," he murmured, his voice dark and dripping with promise. "I'm going to make you say my name, over and over, until it's all you can think about." 

And with that, Spencer dropped to his knees, pulling your skirt and underwear off the rest of the way, baring you to him in the darkness of his bedroom. The cool air kissed your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his hands moved to your thighs, parting them gently, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. 

“I want to see how long before you’re begging,” he whispered, leaning down, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he nipped and kissed his way up. And as you felt the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands holding you open for him, all you could do was tremble under his touch, knowing that any control you thought you had was about to be undone.

“You still biting that tongue, sweetheart?” Spencer’s voice was husky, the tease wrapped around a threat, and it sent shivers down your spine. He hovered right over your wet, aching core, his breath fanning over you, warm and taunting. You were trying to hold it together, trying to stay strong in this little game you'd started, but it was getting harder and harder with every second that passed, every teasing word that left his lips. 

You nodded, the attempt at maintaining composure faltering as a high-pitched, needy "mhm" escaped your throat—a sound more squeak than word. 

Spencer’s eyes narrowed with dark satisfaction, and he huffed a breath, his laughter rumbling from his chest as it ghosted across your most sensitive skin. The sensation drove you wild, made your thighs tense as you tried desperately to keep your composure, to hold back the moan threatening to tear out of you. But then he spoke again, his voice a teasing lilt as his eyes stayed locked on yours, and it was almost too much to handle. 

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with this,” he said, and without another word, he dove in. 

His tongue licked a long, deliberate stripe through your folds, flattening out as if he were savoring every inch of you, the wetness of his mouth sending heat crashing through your entire body. And then he did it again, his tongue gliding through you like he was on a mission—hungry, eager, like he was trying to win a pie-eating contest. Every movement was frantic yet precise, a perfect blend of urgency and skill, his tongue moving against you in ways that made you see stars.

The laughter melted into pure focus as he went to work, his tongue circling and flicking, finding all the places that made you gasp and arch and shake. And he never stopped, never let up, his mouth relentless in its pursuit, as if he wanted to draw every single sound out of you, to hear his name fall from your lips again and again. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging helplessly as the pleasure built and built, and you couldn’t bite back the moans any longer. His name was still held tight behind your teeth, but the noises were free flowing as he sucked on your clit.

Spencer moaned in response, the vibrations adding a whole new level of sensation that made your hips buck against his mouth. He held you steady with his hands, pinning your thighs down as he dove deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue on you filling the room. And you could feel it, that coil tightening and tightening, your whole body trembling on the edge, Spencer’s mouth pushing you closer and closer.

Spencer pulled back for a second, just enough for you to see the wet shine on his lips, the way his mouth was parted in a smug, wicked grin. “Not gonna break, darling?” he teased, the words slow and taunting as he traced his fingers lazily along your thigh, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shook your head harshly, your hair spreading messily across the pillow, breath coming in quick pants as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure. But it was getting harder. Every nerve was on fire, every inch of your body craving more of his touch, and all you could do was bite your lip and hope you could hold out a little longer.

Spencer let out a deep, dramatic sigh, as if he were genuinely disappointed. “Guess I’ll have to try something else then,” he murmured, and though the words sounded like he was relenting, you could see the glint in his eyes—the one that said he was far from finished with you.

Before you could even process what he meant, before you could prepare yourself for whatever he had planned, your world spun. He flipped your body over effortlessly, your stomach pressed against the mattress, and then he gripped your hips, pulling you up onto your knees. Your breath hitched in surprise, your face buried in the pillow for a second as you tried to brace yourself, your mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift.

And then, before you could say a word, before you could even think, Spencer dove back in, his mouth finding you again with that same fevered intensity. But this time, he didn’t hold back. His fingers found your clit immediately, and he began rubbing tight, insistent circles, teasing and flicking the sensitive nub with just the right amount of pressure. 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned loudly, your body jerking back against his face, the sensation too overwhelming to contain. The change in position had made everything more intense, more exposed, and the way he was touching you was driving you to the edge so fast you could barely keep up.

“Spencer—” you gasped, your voice muffled as you pressed your face into the pillow, your hands clawing at the sheets for something—anything—to hold on to. But Spencer was relentless, his fingers moving expertly as he licked and sucked, his mouth working you over with a single-minded focus. 

“Louder,” he commanded against your skin between long, slow licks, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Let me hear you.” And with that, he doubled down, his fingers pressing harder, his mouth driving you absolutely wild, the wetness and heat of him pushing you further and further until there was nothing left to hold back.

Your body trembled, and you felt the pressure building, your resolve crumbling, every breath coming out as a desperate plea, a broken cry. And all the while, Spencer kept at it, refusing to let up, determined to make you fall apart completely, to make you cry out his name like it was all you knew.

"Spencer... oh god, Spencer—" His name spilled from your lips over and over, breathy and desperate, unraveling any control you had left. The more you said it, the more it became a mantra, each syllable breaking apart in the waves of pleasure rolling through your body. Spencer’s eyes flickered up, a satisfied grin spreading across his face, so smug and sure as he watched you crumble.

“That’s right, baby,” he groaned, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. It was all the encouragement you needed and all the power he needed to dive back in, his mouth working you with renewed determination. He gripped your thigh tighter, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, his fingers never relenting as they pressed circles against your clit in perfect rhythm with his tongue.

Every lick, every flick of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure crashing through you, and you felt your body tense and tremble, the pressure inside you building to an unbearable peak. It felt like he was everywhere at once—touching, tasting, teasing—and all you could do was give in to the relentless onslaught, your hands clawing at the sheets as your hips bucked involuntarily against his face.

Spencer moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core and pulling you closer and closer to the edge. He wanted to make sure you felt every second of this, every ripple of pleasure, his only focus on bringing you to completion—bringing you to the brink and pushing you over, completely undone by him.

“Spencer, please—” You barely recognized your own voice, high and ragged, pleading as that coil of pleasure twisted tighter and tighter in your belly. And he heard you—oh, he heard you loud and clear. His mouth moved with a purpose now, tongue swirling and flicking over your clit with his fingers as they quickened their pace, leaving you nowhere to go but over the edge, no choice but to fall.

And then, all at once, you shattered, your body arching as your orgasm crashed over you, hard and overwhelming. You cried out his name, a desperate, breathless sob of pleasure as waves of ecstasy washed through you, leaving you trembling and gasping under his touch. And through it all, Spencer never let up, his mouth and fingers guiding you through every second, every pulse, every blissful aftershock.

“Too much,” you whimpered, your voice coming out in a broken cry as Spencer’s tongue continued its work, lapping up everything you’d given him like he was savoring the taste of you. “Spencer!” The overstimulation was making your thighs quiver, your whole body twitching under his relentless touch, and you reached down to push at his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull away.

Spencer let out a satisfied hum, and then he gave one last slow, deep suck against you, drawing out every ounce of your pleasure until you were gasping and shaking beneath him. He finally pulled back, placing a gentle kiss to your thigh before giving your ass a playful slap, just hard enough to make you flinch and then giggle softly, your breath coming out in a tired, happy sigh.

“Are you still with me, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice gentle and full of concern as he moved up the bed, helping you flip back over so you were lying face-up, sprawled across his mattress. He settled in next to you, his body warm and solid against your side, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, his fingers tracing soft, soothing circles against your stomach. 

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath, your body buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice coming out small and breathless. “I’m... I’m here.” You turned your head to look at him, meeting his eyes, which were full of adoration, his expression soft and open in a way that made your heart swell. 

Spencer smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, his fingers never stopping their gentle stroking against your skin. “Good,” he whispered, his voice low and tender. “You were amazing.” He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his gaze lingering on you like he was memorizing every detail, every moment. “I hope... I didn’t push too far.”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head and giving him a tired but contented smile. “You were perfect.” You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his jawline as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

He kissed you back, slow and sweet, holding you close as the two of you lay there, tangled up in each other, the room still buzzing with the energy of what had just happened. And as he held you, his touch gentle and soothing, you felt safe, wanted, and completely, utterly his.

But then your brain finally caught up with your body, reality rushing in to fill the spaces left by pleasure. You couldn't ignore the truth any longer—this wasn’t a relationship, it was a hookup. You'd wanted everything from him, but right now, it seemed like "everything" only meant the physical. And as much as you wanted to lose yourself in the warmth of his touch, the closeness, the tenderness, you reminded yourself that this was just tonight. That he probably didn’t want to cuddle, or hold you, or whisper sweet words to you in the dark.

So you gently pushed his hand away, your touch soft but firm as you sat up, putting just enough distance between the two of you. You felt his eyes on your back, confusion, maybe even concern, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. It was easier to keep moving, to give yourself a new focus rather than dwell on the ache in your chest.

“Is something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice gentle but tinged with a hint of worry, like he was afraid he’d done something wrong. He scooted up beside you, trying to catch your eye, the warmth of his body still lingering against your side. 

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip as you steeled yourself, pasting on a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “No, not at all,” you said, your voice a little too bright, a little too eager. “I’m... just returning the favor.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with arousal at the thought, but there was something else there too—something quieter, sadder. He couldn’t hide the way his expression flickered, the way the tension in his face softened into something more resigned. “Oh,” he breathed out, trying to cover the disappointment in his voice as his stomach twisted. For a moment, he'd thought this could be more than just sex—that maybe you’d want to stay wrapped in his arms, share whispers and touches until the morning. But as he looked at you now, as he saw the way you sat up and turned away, it became clear that wasn’t the case. 

And yet, the feel of your skin, the taste of your lips, and the way you were looking at him now with that determined glint in your eye—he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you. Even if just like this. 

“Right,” he said, shifting slightly to lie back, his voice lower, more hesitant than it had been all night. “Of course. I... I’d love that.” But even as his words hung in the air, he could feel the growing disconnect between what he wanted and what was happening. His erection tightened under the arousal of what was to come but flagged slightly at the realization of what it meant—that this was just sex to you. 

His hand found it’s way to your thigh as he tried to steady himself, to focus on the pleasure and not the ache of being so close to something he couldn’t quite touch. You were right here with him, offering him everything in the only way you thought he wanted it, and for now, he would take it—however he could.

You grinned at Spencer, trying to mask the turmoil swirling inside you, hoping that the sly smile you wore could hide the aching confusion beneath. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, and you let your eyes flick over his face, memorizing every feature, every little detail—the way his eyes were half-lidded with arousal, the blush dusting his cheeks, the anticipation tightening his body beneath yours. It was easier to focus on that, easier to lose yourself in the thrill of the moment than face the other thoughts circling in your mind.

You leaned down, pressing kisses along the column of his neck, feeling his breath catch as your lips brushed over his pulse, warm and quick beneath your touch. He tasted like salt and skin, and you let yourself revel in it as your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, fingers working quickly as you popped each one open. You could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his body responding to every kiss, every brush of your fingers.

Spencer’s hands found your hips, and he gripped you tightly as you straddled his lap, the warmth of you pressing down against his erection. His eyes fluttered closed as you kissed a path down his neck, teeth grazing lightly, and a low groan rumbled through his chest. He loved the way you felt on top of him, the way you moved, and the way your hands roamed across his skin.

You felt the way his fingers gripped tighter as if trying to ground himself in the moment, as you focused on how he looked beneath you. How beautiful he was in this light, with his shirt half-open and his chest rising and falling with each breath. You peeled back the fabric slowly, exposing his chest inch by inch, the cool air of the room meeting the warmth of his skin. 

"God, Spencer," you murmured against his collarbone, letting your voice drip with as much seduction as you could muster, your fingers splaying across his chest. “You look so good like this.” You hoped the words would cover the cracks in your voice, that he wouldn’t hear the faint tremor of uncertainty underneath.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands moving up your sides, and he tilted his head back, giving you full access to him as he tried to focus only on you—on the feel of your body against his, on the way you were making him feel. “Yeah?” he whispered, his voice low and rough with want as he tried to keep himself steady. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

Your lips met his again, desperate and heated, trying to drown out any lingering questions with the taste of him and the feeling of his body pressing against yours, every inch of him wanting you, needing you. You could feel the hard length of him straining against his pants, and it only spurred you on more, hands moving quickly to strip him bare. You worked the button open, dragging his pants and boxers down his hips in one swift motion, eager to feel him, to be as close as possible.

When he was finally exposed, you couldn’t help but pause, taking him in for a moment. The sight of him—hard and ready, the flush of arousal painting him beautifully—left you breathless, and a gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Jesus...” you whispered, and it was all you could manage. 

Spencer’s chuckle was soft but nervous, his eyes searching yours, a hint of vulnerability in them despite the heat of the moment. He was waiting, holding back, and you knew he needed to hear something from you, anything that would reassure him, that would let him know you wanted this as much as he did. But the words got caught in your throat, overwhelmed by how badly you needed him, how badly you needed to feel him right then and there.

You didn't say anything else, letting your actions speak for you. With a confident ease, you climbed back up his body, pressing a line of kisses up his torso, then his chest, and finally back to his lips, never letting your eyes leave his as you aligned yourself over him. You reached between your bodies, guiding him to you, and in one smooth movement, you sank down on him, taking him inside, the stretch of him making your head fall back as you moaned low and long.

Spencer’s mouth fell open, a sharp breath escaping as he filled you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising strength, his eyes rolling shut as he fought to steady himself. "Oh my god," he groaned, his voice trembling with pleasure as he felt the warmth of you wrap around him, the way you held him tight, every inch of you fitting perfectly against him. 

You took a second to adjust, feeling the fullness of him, the way he stretched and pressed against every part of you, and then you started to move, slow and teasing at first, rolling your hips against him. The drag of him inside you, the way he fit, had you gasping and shaking, every movement sending sparks through your body.

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of reverence, and his fingers dug into your hips, trying to keep himself from losing control too soon. “Y/N... oh god, you feel so—” But the words dissolved into another groan as you started to pick up your pace, the heat between you both building to a wild, frantic rhythm that neither of you could hold back from.

All the tension, all the desire from the past weeks melted into each thrust, each roll of your hips, until there was nothing left but you and him, lost together in the purest, most overwhelming pleasure.

Spencer’s hands gripped you tightly, guiding you down hard and deep with every roll of your hips, each thrust driving him further inside until he hit that perfect spot within you. The pleasure was all-consuming, and you couldn't stop the cries that poured from your lips, his name tumbling out of you over and over again, desperate and broken, as if you’d forgotten how to say anything else. 

“Spencer—oh god, Spencer—” You could feel the pressure building, your body tightening around him, and you rode him harder, faster, chasing that feeling, the peak that you were so close to reaching. Each thrust, each grind of your hips against his, brought you closer, the pleasure crackling through you like electricity, and all you could do was hold on and let it take you.

Spencer’s voice was a rough groan beneath you, his own control slipping as he watched you come undone. “God, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes locking on yours, pupils blown wide with lust as he took in the way you moved over him, the way you used him. “You’re just... using me to get off?”

You whined in response, unable to form any coherent words, your head nodding almost frantically as you chased that sweet release, riding him like it was the only thing that mattered. You dug your fingers into his chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin as you arched your back, letting every inch of him fill you, stretch you.

“That’s so goddamn hot,” Spencer groaned, his voice breaking as he thrust up to meet you, matching your rhythm. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, from the way your body rocked against his, the way you came apart with every movement. “God, you’re so... beautiful like this.”

He thrust up into you with even more force, spurred on by the desperate way you moaned his name, the way your body responded to him so perfectly. The feeling of you gripping around him, taking him so completely, had him on the edge, barely holding back, but he wanted to see you come undone first—to make you fall apart while you used him for your own pleasure.

And as you moved above him, both of you lost in the heat of it all, you knew you were close, so close, the pressure building and tightening until it was almost unbearable, every cry of his name pushing you closer to that edge, to the release that was just within your reach.

Spencer watched you intently, his gaze locked on your face as you rode him, taking in every little shift in your expression—the way your eyes squeezed shut, the furrow in your brow, the way your mouth fell open as you chased that high, so close to coming undone. He knew you were getting there, teetering right on the edge, and he wanted to be the one to push you over, to watch you fall apart completely.

He brought his fingers down to where your bodies met, finding your clit again. The touch was gentle at first, a teasing brush of his fingertips, and then he pressed down, rubbing firm, tight circles that matched the rhythm of your movements. The sensation sent shockwaves through you, the sudden stimulation pushing you closer, every nerve lighting up as his fingers worked in tandem with his cock inside you.

“Spencer!” you cried out, your voice cracking with pleasure as you jerked against him, your hips stuttering as you tried to keep up the pace, tried to keep that feeling going. But the way he touched you, the way he filled you, it was all too much, too perfect. You clenched tightly around him, your body trembling as the pressure inside you built to an almost unbearable peak.

“That's it, sweetheart,” Spencer groaned, his voice low and rough with desire as he felt you tightening around him, your walls pulsing, squeezing. “Come on, I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

And that was all you needed—all it took was that extra pressure of his fingers, the way his voice coaxed you, deep and sweet, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out loudly, your entire body shaking as your orgasm washed through you, overwhelming and all-encompassing. You dug your nails into Spencer’s chest, your head falling back as your hips bucked against his, clenching around him tightly, rhythmically, drawing him even deeper as the pleasure rolled over you in wave after wave.

Spencer watched you come undone, his eyes drinking in every second of your release, feeling every pulse and tremor as you came around him. And God, the way you fell apart in his hands, the sound of your cries, your moans—it drove him wild, pushed him right to the brink of losing control.

Spencer’s own release was close, too close to hold back any longer as he felt you pulsing around him, your cries of pleasure echoing in his ears. He couldn’t last, not with the way you were trembling, the way you were milking him with every pulse of your orgasm. 

With a shaky groan, he quickly pushed your body off of his, the movement almost frantic, and you landed on your back beside him. He wrapped his hand around himself, working his length fast and hard, chasing his own high with ragged breaths. He leaned over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumped himself, his strokes quick and desperate as he watched you, your face still flushed and blissed-out from your release.

“Fuck—” he choked out, and then, with a few more rough strokes, he finished, spilling hot across both your stomachs, his eyes squeezing shut as he came undone. His groans were deep and guttural, his hips jerking as he rode out his climax, and he kept pumping himself, milking every last drop as it painted your skin, hot and slick.

He stilled above you, panting heavily as he slowly came back down, his body trembling as he tried to catch his breath. The sticky heat of his release covered both of you, mingling between your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear were the soft gasps of breath between you, the air thick with the heady scent of sweat and sex.

You wanted nothing more than to cuddle up beside Spencer and melt into his warmth, to trace the lines of his face with your fingertips and let yourself fall completely into this moment. But you knew better. You knew that if you stayed, if you let yourself indulge in the comfort of his arms and the soft, gentle post-coital haze that hung between you, you’d only fall for him harder. And you couldn’t do that—couldn’t let yourself want more than what this was supposed to be.

So you forced a laugh, light and casual, as you started to pull yourself up, peeling away from the tangled sheets and the heat of his body. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you, heard the confusion in his voice when he spoke. “Where—where are you going?” he asked, his voice still heavy with exhaustion and bliss, soft and a little vulnerable as he propped himself up on his elbow to look at you.

You turned to him, trying to keep your tone easy, like this wasn’t a big deal, like the moment you just shared didn’t make your heart want to explode with everything you felt for him. “Um, pee,” you said quickly, avoiding his eyes as you reached for your scattered clothes, finding tissues for your stomach before pulling your clothes on. “And then... home.”

“Home?” The word came out small and tired, and he pushed himself up a little further, watching you with a furrowed brow. “But—”

“Where’s your bathroom?” You interrupted, flashing him a quick, forced smile. You could see the slight hurt flash across his face, but you kept going, not letting yourself dwell on it. You couldn’t let him see the hesitation, the way your hands were trembling slightly as you tried to gather yourself.

“Down the hall, to the left,” he said quietly, his voice losing some of that sleepy warmth, a touch of disappointment leaking in.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, already making your way out of the room before he could ask any more questions or before the guilt could creep up and make you stay. Because if you stayed, even for a second longer, you were afraid you’d never leave.

After taking a moment in the bathroom to compose yourself, you splashed some water on your face, staring at your reflection. You tried to convince yourself that this was the right thing to do—that leaving now, before things got any more complicated, was what you both needed. But as you stepped out, walking back down the hall and catching a glimpse of Spencer waiting for you near the front door, the resolve you’d tried to build up wavered. 

He looked... different. Still tousled from your time together, his hair a wild mess, and his shirt half-open, but his expression was carefully neutral, masking whatever he might be feeling behind a tired, gentle smile. You could see the hint of some almost sad in his eyes, the way he was trying to be a gentleman about it all.

“Let me... let me walk you out,” Spencer said softly, moving to open the door for you. He was trying to keep his tone casual, but you could hear the strain in it, the unspoken question in his voice—did this mean anything to you? Were you going to leave and forget what happened?

You nodded, swallowing down the knot in your throat as you stepped closer to him. “Thank you,” you said quietly, not really knowing what else to say. Your words felt small and empty against the weight of everything that had just happened, of everything you were leaving unsaid.

He held the door open for you, the cool air from the hallway washing over both of you. And as you stepped out into that space, Spencer followed you, walking just a little bit behind as if making sure you wouldn't change your mind at the last second and turn back around. The silence between you was heavy, filled with everything you wished you could say, but couldn’t find the words for. 

When you reached the doorway to the building, Spencer hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe as he turned to you one last time, his eyes searching your face, looking for something—anything—that might give him a reason to ask you to stay. But all he could do was give you that same tired, bittersweet smile, the one that tried to be reassuring, like this was just another night, even though both of you knew it wasn’t.

“So... um, thanks,” you said awkwardly, glancing down at your feet, not wanting to meet his eyes. You could feel the warmth of his gaze on you, the way he was trying so hard to keep his composure, to act like this was okay when it was anything but. “For tonight. It was...”

“Yeah,” Spencer said quickly, nodding as if to cut you off, to spare you from having to finish the thought. “Yeah, of course. Thank you for... everything.”

He was trying to act like it didn’t hurt, like he wasn’t struggling to let you go. He reached out to open the door fully, stepping aside to let you through, and you could see the way he forced himself to smile, to be the gentleman that he always was, no matter how much it stung.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice gentle but edged with something fragile.

You nodded, giving him one last smile before stepping out into the hallway, letting the door close behind you. And as you walked away, hearing the faint click of the lock as Spencer closed the door to his apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were making a mistake by leaving, or if you were saving yourself from the hurt and rejection that you didn’t want to face.

—

Monday morning came with a bustle of energy through the bullpen—the start of a new week and, for the team, the renewed curiosity about what had gone down between Spencer and his "girl." It didn't take long for the teasing to start, either. From the moment Spencer walked in, sipping his coffee and trying his best to shake off the weekend’s melancholy, he could see the glances, the grins that were being traded across the room like secrets.

Derek was the first to pounce, of course. “Well, well, well,” he called out as Spencer passed by his desk. “There he is—the man of the hour. So, pretty boy, how was your weekend? Got any fun stories you want to share?” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face as if he knew exactly what kind of weekend Spencer had.

JJ joined in, setting her file down and giving Spencer a warm, knowing smile. “Yeah, Spence, you seemed... pretty cozy on Friday night.” She wagged her eyebrows playfully, nudging Emily, who tried to cover a laugh with a sip of her coffee.

Spencer felt his face flush, his mind immediately going back to every detail of the weekend—the feel of your skin, the taste of your lips, the way your voice had wrapped around his name. But that was quickly overshadowed by the stark reality of how it had ended, the way you’d quietly slipped away from his apartment, leaving him standing alone at his door with that empty feeling gnawing at his chest. He tried to push those thoughts away, forcing a smile that he hoped looked genuine.

“It was... good,” he said, his voice strained but steady as he tried to keep things light, to play along. He didn't want to reveal how much it hurt, how much he missed you already, and how little he understood what had gone wrong. “I’m hoping to see her again soon.”

“Good?” Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “That's all you got for us? Come on, Reid, you two were practically eye-fucking all night. Don’t tell me nothing happened after we left.”

Spencer's stomach twisted painfully at the mention, but he kept his smile plastered on, his eyes darting between Derek, JJ, and Emily, who were all watching him like hawks. It stung—the teasing, the jokes, all the assumptions that this was some carefree fling. But he nodded along, chuckling softly, trying to play the part they wanted to see. “Yeah, well... we, uh, definitely had fun,” he said, voice dipping into a joking tone to cover up how much it hurt to talk about. “I mean, we’ll see what happens. But yeah, I’d like to see her again.”

“Yeah, you better,” JJ added with a teasing smile. “Don’t let her get away, Spence. She seemed really into you.”

Spencer could only nod, his jaw clenching as he forced another smile, wishing he could know what was going on in your mind—whether you felt the same tug he did, the same yearning to make this more than just a fleeting encounter. But he didn’t know, and it left him trying to walk the tightrope between hope and disappointment, pretending like he was confident it would all work out when he had no idea if he’d ever see you again. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, more to himself than to anyone else. “I hope so too.” 

And with that, he settled down at his desk, burying himself in case files and paperwork, doing his best to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest—an ache that wouldn’t go away until he knew for sure whether that night was a beginning or just a beautiful, painful end.

—

It was a slow, uneventful morning until Hotch's computer decided to crash—a rare occurrence, almost as if it was a twist of fate. Penelope Garcia had called in sick, leaving the team without their usual tech support, and within minutes, someone had dialed down to IT, asking for assistance. And that someone, by sheer luck or cruel coincidence, was you. 

You hadn't seen Spencer since that night two weeks ago, since you’d slipped out of his apartment with all the confused, conflicting emotions weighing you down. And now, you were walking into the lion’s den again, nervous energy buzzing in your veins as you stepped off the elevator and into the BAU's office. 

You did a quick sweep, your eyes flickering around the bullpen, half hoping to catch sight of him, half praying you wouldn't. But Spencer wasn’t there. Relief flooded you, though it didn't completely ease the tension that coiled in your chest as you made your way to Hotch’s office, trying to keep your head down and your nerves at bay.

Inside the office, Hotch greeted you with his usual calm, professional manner, moving aside to let you work on his computer. You kept your focus on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard as you tried to fix whatever issue had brought you there. In the background, you could hear the faint chatter of the team, the sounds blending into an indistinct hum as you concentrated on the task at hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had just returned from the breakroom, a cup of coffee in his hand, his eyes wandering across the bullpen as he made his way to his desk. Emily couldn’t resist the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, Reid,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye, leaning over to speak low enough for only him to hear. “Your girl’s here.”

Spencer froze, his heart skipping a beat at her words. “What?” he asked, his voice hitching slightly as he glanced around, searching for you. He’d all but given up hope on seeing you again, the past two weeks of silence gnawing at him more than he cared to admit. And now, suddenly, there you were. His mind raced, torn between the rush of excitement and the cold twinge of nerves that settled in his stomach. What was he supposed to say? Would you even want to see him after how things had ended?

Before he could think too much about it, you emerged from Hotch’s office, closing the door softly behind you. You kept your eyes trained downward, trying to make yourself small, invisible. If you could just get back to the elevators without making a scene, maybe you could get out of there with your dignity intact. But, of course, luck wasn’t on your side today.

“Hey! IT’s finest!” Derek’s booming voice called out from across the bullpen, drawing all eyes to you instantly. You stopped in your tracks, cringing internally as a dozen pairs of eyes turned in your direction. Spencer’s included.

You forced a smile, though you could feel the tension behind it, as you made your way over to Derek, who was wearing a wide, friendly grin. “Hey, uh... how's it going?” you said, trying to sound casual even though your voice wavered slightly. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, and it took all your willpower not to look in his direction. Not yet.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. “You know, just solving crimes, catching bad guys. The usual.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “So... what's a pretty thing like you doing back here? Finally caved and came to see our boy Reid?”

Your face heated instantly, and you let out an awkward laugh, shaking your head. “No, no, just... just fixing Hotch’s computer,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Nothing more exciting than that, I promise.”

“Sure, sure,” Derek said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But come on, don’t tell me you’re just here for tech support.” 

You could feel the tension in your shoulders tighten, and you stole a quick, hesitant glance at Spencer. He was standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on you, and there was something soft, almost hopeful in the way he looked at you. It made your heart clench, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe.

“Uh...” You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself together, to keep things professional. “Yeah, just here for the tech support today. Don’t want to distract you guys from your very important crime-solving.” You flashed another smile, this one a little tighter, hoping that Derek would let it go, that he wouldn’t push any further. 

But it was clear from the look on his face that he wasn’t going to make it that easy. “Right,” he said, leaning back in his chair, dragging out the word and giving Spencer a sidelong glance. “But maybe you could let Reid walk you out. Y’know, since you’re here and all.”

The suggestion hung in the air, and you felt the eyes of the team flicker between you and Spencer, waiting for one of you to say something, to acknowledge the elephant in the room. And there it was—your chance, your opening. But all you could do was stand there, your mouth dry, your heart pounding as you tried to figure out what to do next.

“Sure,” Spencer said quickly, nodding before his nerves could make him hesitate, walking up to you and motioning for you to follow him. The entire bullpen was alive with curiosity, but he just needed to get you out of there, to talk to you without the eyes and teasing of the team on him. You let your feet carry you forward, not thinking too much about what was happening, just moving, as if the mere act of walking with him would help you find the right words.

When the two of you reached the elevators, safely out of earshot of the others, Spencer hit the button, and the metallic doors loomed before you both, a quiet hum in the background as you stood there in a tense, uncertain silence. “How are you?” he asked after a beat, his voice gentle, like he was feeling his way through the dark.

“Good, yeah,” you said with a small smile, nodding, trying to seem relaxed, like seeing him again wasn’t sending your heart into overdrive. “You?”

“Alright,” he said, but the word felt tight on his tongue, and the forced smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shifted on his feet, nervous but determined to get the words out. “Listen... uh, I would love to see you again.” His eyes searched yours, hopeful but guarded, waiting to see how you would respond, the words hanging between you like a fragile thread.

Your heart hammered in your chest at the unexpected proposal, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your expression neutral. See you again? What did he mean—see you like a date? See you like the last time? The possibility twisted your insides, and you tried to tamp down your excitement, afraid of reading into something that wasn’t there. “Like, um, like a friends with benefits kind of thing?” you asked, your voice dropping to a hush, your eyes darting away from his as you felt your cheeks flush.

Spencer’s eyes widened at the suggestion, and for a moment, he felt his heart crack painfully in his chest. Friends with benefits. The words echoed in his mind, a harsh reminder that maybe that was still all you saw him as—someone to fulfill a physical need, no strings attached. But he cleared his throat quickly, trying to hide the disappointment and keep his voice steady. If that was what you wanted, then he would take it, even if it wasn’t the everything he had hoped for. “If that’s what you want, yeah,” he said, nodding, his tone measured, trying to keep the hurt from creeping in.

You nodded slowly, mulling over the suggestion in your mind, and Spencer could see the wheels turning, the way you bit your lip as you processed. “Here,” you said suddenly, your voice sharper as you reached for your bag. “Let me give you my number. That way, um, we don’t have any more... mix-ups.”

Spencer fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone, and as he handed it to you, your fingers brushed for just a second, and he felt that familiar warmth between you, the spark that had drawn you together in the first place. He watched as you entered your number into his contacts, typing quickly, and he couldn’t help the tightness in his throat, that small flare of hope that maybe—just maybe—this could still turn into something more.

—

It didn’t turn into more. Whatever fragile hope Spencer had harbored that morning at the elevators was soon buried beneath a pattern—one that quickly set the boundaries of what you and he were to each other. It became late nights where desire spoke louder than words, where you tangled together in sheets, sweaty limbs intertwining as your bodies moved in frenzied desperation, searching for relief in each other’s touch.

There were stolen moments in showers, hurried, steam-filled exchanges that left the water cold by the end. The couches became your playground, backs arching and cries muffled into cushions. Once, in a fit of passion, you even found yourselves in his car, fogging up the windows until the world outside was nothing but a blurred haze of headlights and stars. And then there was that one reckless, electrifying night when you found yourselves in an empty office at the bureau, your hands gripping the edge of a desk as Spencer pressed into you from behind, your lips swollen from rough, unrestrained kisses.

It was hot, it was desperate, it was everything you could’ve ever asked for physically—but it was also never enough. And that was the problem. 

Each time you met, you felt yourself slipping further, falling harder, wanting more than just his body. It was becoming impossible to ignore the way you longed for the tenderness in his eyes, the way you craved his words, his thoughts, the parts of him he only showed in stolen, fleeting glimpses when you let your guard down for just a moment. And that longing terrified you. So you built up walls, retreating into the comfort of what was familiar and safe, convincing yourself that if you just kept things purely physical, if you kept your heart locked away, you wouldn’t have to feel the ache of wanting more than he was willing to give.

You started avoiding his gaze during your meetings, your eyes focused on the patterns of the ceiling, on the textures of the sheets, anywhere but on the way he looked at you with those wide, searching eyes, like he was begging you for something you knew he didn’t actually want. You chose to face away more often, burying your face in pillows, letting your hair cover the expressions you couldn’t bear to let him see. You kissed him less, keeping the physicality to hurried touches, heated grinding, and the frantic moments just before release. It was easier that way, you told yourself. Easier to pretend this was only sex, that you could handle it, that this was all you needed.

And you focused on the penetration, not intimacy—because that was the safe part, the part you could control. You held back from the slow, lingering touches, from the tender kisses that came after, from the whispered words of comfort and vulnerability that would only make you fall further. 

But Spencer noticed. He noticed every time you turned your face away, every time you shied from his kisses, every time you hurried to get dressed afterward as if you couldn’t stand to linger in his embrace for a second longer. He wanted to hold you, to pull you close, to ask you to stay. But every time he tried, every time he leaned in for more, he felt you pull away, felt you retreat back into that familiar distance, and each time his heart cracked a little bit more.

He tried to tell himself it was fine—that this was what you wanted, that this was all he deserved. He tried to lose himself in the pleasure, to focus on the way you felt around him, the sounds you made, the desperate way you held onto him as you came. But it was getting harder to ignore the ache that settled deep in his chest, the realization that no matter how often you came to him, no matter how many nights you spent tangled together, you would never feel more for him. Not the way he felt for you.

And so every meeting felt bittersweet—a desperate, beautiful lie that neither of you was willing to confront, even as it tore both of you apart piece by piece. You gave Spencer your body, but he wanted your heart. And every time you left his bed, leaving him alone in the darkness, he felt himself break a little more, knowing that, to you, he would never be more than just a hookup.

Even when you hung out with his team, those nights at O’Keefe’s where you and Spencer would laugh, joke, and play along with whatever assumptions the team had about you—those were the nights when everything felt right, even if it was all a pretense. There was an unspoken understanding between you both: in front of the team, you were allowed to touch each other casually, to drape an arm over his shoulder, to tease him playfully. You could let your walls down just enough to give the illusion of a couple, and it made things easier, simpler. And perhaps that was the irony of it all—pretending to be in love felt more real than any of the other moments you shared in the dark, tangled up in each other but hiding everything you really felt.

Those nights were both of your favorites, even if neither of you ever admitted it. You could spend hours at the booth, letting your fingers brush his under the table, leaning into him when he said something that made you laugh, seeing the way his eyes would soften when he looked at you. It felt natural, like you could actually be yourselves without the pressure of whatever complicated mess lay beneath the surface. You could talk—really talk. About books, movies, things you loved, things you hated. You’d tell each other stories, recounting things from your childhoods or sharing jokes that left you breathless with laughter, and you’d feel so comfortable, so close, that it almost felt like everything was normal, like everything was real.

And for Spencer, those were the nights when he could feel you���really feel you—in a way he never could when you were both alone. Because as much as he cherished the physical closeness you shared behind closed doors, the passion and the desperate intimacy of your bodies entwined, it was in these fleeting, stolen moments at O’Keefe’s that he felt closest to your heart. When you would reach for his hand under the table and smile softly at him, or when you would brush a lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers lingering on his skin, he could almost convince himself that you felt the same way he did—that this wasn’t just some elaborate charade.

But those nights would always end the same way: you and Spencer leaving together, waving goodbye to the team as if you were a couple heading home for the night, leaving them with knowing smiles and half-teasing jokes. But the minute you were alone, away from prying eyes, the reality would settle back in. You’d let go of his hand. You’d pull away, your laughter softening into something more guarded, more careful. And eventually, no matter how close the two of you got, no matter how much you both secretly wanted to stay together, you would leave. 

You would leave him alone at the end of the night—because you had to. Because letting things be more, letting things get real, meant giving up the safety of your carefully constructed distance. So you’d walk away, your heart heavy with the knowledge that the moments you cherished most were always fleeting, always just a little too far out of reach.

And Spencer would stand there, alone in the cold night, watching you go, holding on to the ghost of your touch and the bittersweet ache of wanting more. Because he knew, deep down, that these nights were all you would ever have, and he’d take them—even if they were only pretend, even if they left him lonelier than before.

One particular night, after a long day of cases and a gnawing loneliness that seemed to cling to him like a shadow, Spencer found himself needing more than just the physical—he needed to feel loved, to hear the affection you kept locked away in those moments when you were the most vulnerable. He needed something real, something that reminded him that this wasn’t just sex, even if only for a moment. He needed to feel like you were both giving something to each other.

You were on top of him, your bodies pressed tightly together, but Spencer’s mind was far from just the feeling of your skin on his. He craved that intimacy from your first night together—the way you’d whispered his name like a prayer, like it was the only thing you could think of, the only word that existed in that moment. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you in a slow, needy rhythm, his voice catching in his throat as he whispered, “Say my name... please, sweetheart. Just... please.”

But you shook your head, your movements hitching slightly as you tried to keep the steady pace between you, the friction that grounded you in the moment. “No,” you said simply, and it came out firm, leaving no room for ambiguity. It wasn’t a game this time, not a playful challenge like it had been before. It was the truth, and the truth was, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Saying his name made things too real—it cracked open the walls you’d built around your heart, made it harder to keep your feelings for him hidden.

Spencer’s face fell, but he masked it quickly, trying not to let his disappointment show. He gave a small, tight nod, and didn’t push for more, didn’t beg you the way he wanted to. He kept his hands on your hips, holding you close as you rocked against him, but something in him broke fully that night. A bitter realization set in—one that twisted the love he felt for you into something darker, something sharp and painful. 

He began to resent you. He resented you for how much he loved you, how he’d let himself fall so deeply for someone who couldn’t, wouldn’t, give him anything more than her body. He resented the way he craved your touch, the way you had become the person he wanted to see after every case, the person he wanted to come home to. And most of all, he resented how much of himself he was willing to give, only to be met with the cold reminder that this was all it would ever be to you—a hookup, a distraction, never more.

The resentment didn’t come all at once. It crept in like a slow poison, staining every moment you shared, every kiss you almost pressed to his skin, every time you left his bed without a backward glance. He started to pull away, his touches less gentle, his eyes more distant, and it became harder to ignore the walls you’d built between you both. But still, he couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t stop wanting you, couldn’t stop hoping that one day, maybe, you would say his name the way he so desperately wanted you to—like he was more than just a body beneath yours, like he meant something.

And so the nights went on, tangled in bedsheets and longing, both of you pretending not to notice the widening chasm between desire and what lay underneath it. But for Spencer, it became clear—painfully, heartbreakingly clear—that loving you was something he’d have to endure quietly, silently, as you continued to offer him your body but never your heart.

—

The night at O’Keefe’s was supposed to be like any other—one of the rare occasions you still went out with the team, where the drinks flowed freely, and everyone could let loose. You sat at the booth as you tried to laugh at Derek’s jokes, nod at JJ’s stories, pretend that everything was fine. But then you saw it—the way Spencer’s eyes lingered on the bartender as he got another drink, the slight lean-in of his body when they laughed at something he said. The way he flashed them that special smile you thought he reserved for you—the way they winked at him when they passed him his drink.

It broke you. Completely shattered the fragile facade you’d held on to for weeks. Your stomach churned at the sight, your heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice. He cares so little about me, you thought bitterly, that he could flirt right in front of me? And then what? Take me home afterward, like nothing had happened? Like I'm just a convenient body? 

As Spencer made his way back to the table, a satisfied, secret smile on his face—one that once would have made your heart flutter but now only made you feel sick—you couldn’t hold it together anymore. You shot up from your seat, brushing past him, barely able to mutter an excuse. He reached out for you, but you shook off his touch, your only focus on getting outside, on breathing, on escaping the sudden wave of tears that threatened to choke you.

“What was that about?” Emily asked, a frown forming as she watched you hurry away.

Spencer shrugged, his smile faltering as he looked back at the table, feeling a pang of anxiety. “I... I don’t know,” he said honestly, staring after you, his brow furrowing.

The team exchanged glances, and JJ leaned over, her voice gentle as she said, “Maybe you should go check on her, Spence. She’s your girlfriend; she probably needs you right now.”

Spencer’s mouth went dry at the word “girlfriend.” They all assumed—had assumed for months—that you were together, that you were a real couple. But in this moment, it didn’t matter what label they had put on it; it only mattered that something was wrong. He didn’t know why, but he needed to find out.

When he got outside, he saw you standing against the wall, your back to him, hands covering your face as you took deep, shaking breaths. The cold air turned every exhale into tiny clouds, and your shoulders trembled slightly as you tried to hold yourself together.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice barely carrying above the nighttime sounds of the city. He didn’t want to startle you, but you whipped your head to look at him instantly, your eyes wide and pained, before you quickly turned away again, swiping at your face like you could erase all evidence of the tears.

“Are you okay?” Spencer tried again, taking a tentative step closer, his voice laced with concern.

“Yup,” you replied, voice wobbling against your hardest attempts to sound steady, your eyes darting upward, desperate to stop the tears from falling again. 

“Why are you out here?” Spencer's tone was gentle, and you hated how much care was in it. You hated how much you still wanted to hear it, even now.

“Just needed some air,” you said with a sniffle, your voice barely above a whisper. But it trembled, and you knew he could hear it. 

Spencer moved closer, finally getting a clear look at your face, at the tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. “You’re crying,” he said softly, like he couldn't quite believe it.

You nodded slowly, and finally, you faced him fully, unable to hold back the swell of emotions any longer. “Um. I’m so sorry,” you said quickly, wiping the fresh tears away with the back of your hand.

Spencer’s brow furrowed deeper in confusion, and he took a step closer, wanting to reach for you but stopping short. “Why? Did something happen?”

You let out a bitter laugh, one that was more sob than amusement. “Yeah. I—uh, I fell in love with you.” The words tumbled out in a rush, harsh and ragged, and the moment they were out, you regretted it, wished you could take them back, swallow them down. But it was too late.

Spencer stood there, completely stunned, his face paling as he tried to process your words. “What?” he whispered, voice cracking on the word. He felt like the ground had just shifted beneath him, and he was scrambling to understand, to catch up to everything you were saying.

“It’s fine,” you said hurriedly, holding up a hand as if to stop him from saying anything more. “You don’t have to say it back or anything. I know you don’t feel the same. I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry.” Your lip wobbled, and you bit down on it hard, willing the tears to stay at bay. “Just—seeing you flirt with that bartender...”

Spencer’s face tightened, and he shook his head quickly. “I wasn’t,” he said, clearing his throat, trying to find the words. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“It’s okay, Spencer.” You felt another sob rise in your throat, and you pressed your hand over your mouth to stifle it. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not your girlfriend.”

Spencer bit his tongue, the words he wanted to say lodged painfully in his throat. He didn’t know how to tell you everything he felt, how to bridge the chasm that had grown between you over these past months. But as he stood there, looking at you with tears streaming down your face, the frustration and hurt bubbled up inside of him, and a bitter anger began to mix with the sadness. You were the one who pushed me away, he thought, the one who kept pretending not to care, and now you wanted to be angry at me?

“Do you...” Spencer started, swallowing thickly, the words like sandpaper on his tongue. “Do you still want to see each other?” He knew it was the wrong thing to ask, that it cut too close to the surface, but he needed to know. Needed to know if you wanted to keep doing this—whatever this was.

“For sex?” you scoffed, your voice cracking as you looked at him, the accusation plain on your face.

He nodded noncommittally, his face tight, unable to mask the frustration that twisted inside him. 

And that was it. You let out a sob, turning your face away from him, your shoulders shaking as you pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle the sounds. Without another word, you walked away quickly, your steps hurried and uneven as if you needed to get as far away from him as possible. 

Spencer stayed rooted to the spot, his feet unwilling to move, his mind racing with everything he should’ve said but didn’t. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you how much he loved you, how he’d been holding back because he was afraid you didn’t feel the same. But he didn’t. He just watched you go, the cold air biting at his cheeks, his breath puffing out in desperate clouds as he let you walk away. 

And he felt that sick, familiar emptiness settle in again—worse than before, knowing he’d just let you slip through his fingers.

Eventually Spencer walked back into O’Keefe’s like he was on autopilot, like someone else was moving his body for him while he watched from a distance. The noise of the bar—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation—washed over him like static, muted and hollow. All he could feel was the cold emptiness in his chest, the lingering sting of your words echoing in his mind. I fell in love with you... It's fine, you don't have to say it back. 

He sat down at the booth mechanically, his movements jerky and disconnected, and immediately felt the eyes of his team on him. The questions came quickly, concern laced in every voice, but Spencer could hardly focus on any of them, his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“Hey, kid, what happened?” Derek’s voice cut through the fog, his tone gentle but firm, and Spencer felt the weight of his gaze, the protective instinct of a friend who could sense something was very wrong.

Spencer didn’t look up as he answered, staring blankly at the beer bottle in front of him. “She wasn’t feeling good,” he mumbled, hoping his voice didn’t waver. “She... left.”

“What?” JJ’s voice was soft but urgent, leaning in to catch his eyes. “Did something happen between you two?”

“I’m fine,” Spencer replied quickly, almost too quickly, forcing a tight-lipped smile that looked more like a grimace. He took a sip of his drink, the bitter taste filling his mouth, but it did nothing to dull the ache in his chest. “She just... wasn’t feeling well. Needed to go home.”

The team fell into a tense silence, and he could feel their eyes on him, searching, probing for the real reason behind your sudden departure. Everyone had seen you two together, had seen the way you’d looked at each other. It was an unspoken truth, and now, they could all tell something had changed, something was deeply wrong.

“Spence...” JJ began again, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled away slightly, trying to maintain what little composure he still had.

“Really, I’m fine,” he said, the words sharp in a way that was unlike him. He didn't want to talk about it, didn’t want to let the floodgates open and risk breaking down right here, in front of everyone. The team exchanged uneasy glances, but they didn’t push, sensing that this wasn’t just a lovers’ spat, that whatever had happened between you and Spencer was something bigger than they could grasp.

And so they let him be, filling the silence with half-hearted jokes and forced smiles as they tried to keep the night light, but the tension sat heavy between them. All the while, Spencer just sat there, staring into his drink, feeling like he was watching someone else go through the motions of this moment. Like the real him was still outside, staring after you as you walked away, trying to figure out when everything had gone so wrong.

—

You love him?

The words played on a loop in Spencer’s head, each syllable echoing through the empty spaces you’d left behind. You told him that night, outside O’Keefe’s, voice thick with hurt and vulnerability. You, the woman who occupied his thoughts, who made him feel things he’d never felt for anyone else—you loved him. And he’d just let you walk away.

He'd stood there stunned that night, unable to speak, unable to process the revelation that the woman he’d reluctantly, desperately fallen for felt the same way. In the days that followed, he convinced himself that it was for the best, that maybe this was the closure he needed. You’d go back to your separate lives, and he'd be free of the endless cycle of wanting more than you could give. Maybe he'd be able to finally move on.

But that conviction was short-lived. It only took a few days of silence, a few nights spent staring up at the ceiling of his apartment, to realize how hollow that freedom was. And the weeks that passed after that night only twisted the knife deeper. 

When there was an issue with the team’s tech and Penelope wasn’t around, it wasn’t you who showed up to fix it. It was some other IT person—someone with none of your charm, none of your wit. No one who would tease him, brush your fingers lightly against his arm as you leaned over his keyboard. And when they walked in, clipboard in hand, an unfamiliar face staring back at him, the ache in Spencer’s chest grew. He’d check his phone constantly, almost obsessively, hoping for a text, an email, anything. But his inbox remained empty, the silence between you growing deeper and more suffocating each day.

He started noticing the way his team watched him—the way they traded glances when he walked into the bullpen with his usual cup of coffee, the way their conversations dipped into softer tones when he came near. It was pity. Pity for the man who let his girlfriend walk away, who didn’t know how to make it right. They didn't know the truth—that you were never really his girlfriend. That you were never really his at all.

He missed you. He missed you so much that it became unbearable, the absence of you like a phantom limb—something he could still feel, but couldn’t hold, couldn’t touch. He missed the way you’d laugh with the team at O’Keefe’s, the way your eyes would meet his across the table, a secret smile shared between the two of you. He missed the way your hair would brush against his cheek when you leaned in to whisper something in his ear, the way your lips felt on his when the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled together.

And suddenly, O’Keefe’s wasn’t fun anymore. It was just another reminder of what he’d lost. Every time he walked in, he’d expect to see you there—half-hoping, half-dreading the sight of you. But you never came. You never showed, and it left an emptiness in the seat beside him that no one else could fill. 

The nights became the worst part. The silence in his apartment was deafening. He would lie in bed, replaying every moment you’d shared, every touch, every laugh, every whispered word. He could still see the way you’d looked at him when you told him you were in love with him—how your voice wavered with fear, how you tried to cover it up with a laugh as if you could take the words back as soon as they left your lips. He’d let you say them, he’d heard the truth in them, and still, he let you walk away. What kind of fool lets the person they love walk away?

And so it hit him, with a force that left him breathless: Even if you kept him at an arm’s length forever, even if you could never give him everything he wanted, he would still want you. He didn’t need you to be perfect, didn’t need you to promise him the world—he just needed you. The way you made him laugh, the way you challenged him, the way you made his life feel full and bright and real. Even if it meant spending more nights pretending and holding back, Spencer would take it all just to have you close.

Because a life without you—without your smile, your laugh, your presence—is a life he no longer wanted to live. He missed you. He loved you. And he was willing to fight for you, even if it meant picking up the broken pieces of what you both had shattered, putting them back together in any way that would keep you from slipping through his fingers again.

Once Spencer made up his mind, there was a fire inside him—a determination to make things right, to get you back, to show you that he was willing to do whatever it took. He’d spent too many weeks stuck in silence, stuck in regret, and if there was even the smallest chance you’d have him back, he was ready to fight for it. He was already forming a plan in his mind, trying to figure out the words to say, the way to make you see that he’d give you everything he had, no matter how messy or complicated it got.

But before he could put that plan into action, it all came crashing down around him.

It was Penelope who stopped him in his tracks. He’d been pacing the bullpen, trying to work up the nerve to figure out how to reach out to you—how to make that first move—when he saw the look on her face. She was standing near her desk, files forgotten in her hands, her eyes fixed on him with that soft, all-too-knowing expression. And it was enough to make his stomach twist uncomfortably, anxiety clawing at his chest.

“What’s up, Garcia?” he asked, hesitantly, trying to keep his voice steady as he approached her.

She gave him a sympathetic smile, the kind of smile that said she knew far more than she was letting on, and it made Spencer's heart sink. He hated that look, the pity, the way it made him feel like he was already defeated. “Did you hear?” she asked, her voice gentle, as if she was trying to break bad news without shattering him completely.

“...hear what?” he replied, suddenly on edge, the nerves tightening in his chest like a vice. He felt like the floor was slipping out from under him, and he braced himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Oh, honey.” Penelope sighed deeply, placing a hand over her heart as if the words hurt her as much as they were about to hurt him. “Tony in IT asked Y/N out.”

And just like that, Spencer felt his entire world tilt, his heart dropping straight to his stomach. It felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of him, leaving him stunned and spinning. He was too late. 

“Tony?” he whispered, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “They... they asked her out?” 

Penelope nodded, looking at him with that same expression—so much pity, so much sympathy that it made him want to scream. “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “I heard it from them this morning. They said she seemed like she could use a night out, so they asked her.” 

Spencer’s mind raced, every thought muddling together, tangled up in the image of you and Tony, smiling, laughing, kissing. He could barely think straight. Tony—some other person—getting the chance to be close to you, to make you happy. Someone else doing what he’d been too afraid to do. And he knew Tony; they were charming, easygoing, exactly the type of person who could sweep you off your feet, and that thought twisted the knife deeper.

“Did she... did she say yes?” Spencer asked, barely recognizing his own voice, which came out quiet and small, barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Penelope said, her hand gently touching his arm. “But... Spencer, I just thought you should know. In case...” She trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence, because Spencer understood exactly what she meant. In case it was too late. In case Tony had already taken the place he’d left open.

He stood there, numb, the walls of the bullpen closing in on him as reality settled in like a heavy weight on his chest. He was too late, and the plan he’d spent days building up in his mind shattered into pieces at his feet, leaving him standing in the wreckage of what could’ve been.

—

You stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, not knowing exactly how to respond to Tony’s hopeful smile. Their offer to take you out caught you off guard, and for a moment you just stared at them, trying to form a polite letdown that wouldn’t hurt their feelings. After all, you thought to yourself, Tony was one of the nicest people in the building. 

“Oh, Tony,” you sighed eventually, feeling a wave of guilt for having to reject their offer. “That is so sweet, I’m just... not looking for anything right now.”

Tony’s smile didn’t falter for a second. They nodded their head, understanding written all over their face as if they’d half expected your answer. “That’s alright!” They said quickly, raising their hands in a surrendering gesture. “We could still go out as friends. You seem like you could use one.”

The kindness in their voice, the way they looked at you like they genuinely wanted to help, made your heart warm. You hadn’t expected them to pivot so easily, to offer friendship instead of romance, and it felt... nice. Like maybe you weren’t as alone as you felt. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t quite pin down. “I—I do need a friend. That would be great.”

It had been a miserable few weeks, a spiral of regret and heartbreak after you’d confessed your love to Spencer. The words had slipped out before you could stop them, unguarded and vulnerable, and you had no idea what you were thinking when you said it. All you knew was that watching him flirt with someone else made something in you snap, and suddenly all those bottled-up emotions had spilled out, uncontrolled. But the second the words were in the air, you’d known it was a mistake. You were perfectly content to hold it back forever, to let your love for him simmer quietly in the background if it meant keeping Spencer in your life. But now? Now you’d ruined everything. Your feelings had scared him away, pushed him to his limits, and left you standing in the wake of it all, heartbroken and alone.

Tony’s kind offer was the first real light you’d had in weeks, and as you met their warm, friendly eyes, you felt a small sense of relief. You could use a friend—someone who didn’t come with all the baggage of unrequited love, someone who just wanted to spend time with you without expectations.

“Do you want to go to O’Keefe’s?” Tony suggested, their smile widening.

You shook your head quickly, feeling a lump form in your throat at the thought of that place. Too many memories, you thought, and the idea of walking in there without Spencer, without pretending you were a couple in front of the team, or, God, running into him, felt like too much. “No, uh, I go there too much,” you said with a forced laugh, trying to keep your tone light. “Let’s try something new, yeah?”

Tony nodded, the same easy smile still on their face, and you felt a flicker of hope—maybe this would be good for you. Maybe spending time with someone who wanted nothing more than friendship would help you heal, help you forget all the mess and confusion that Spencer left behind. Maybe you could start to feel like yourself again. Or at least pretend.

—

You hadn’t gotten dressed up in weeks—not since that night. Ever since then, you hadn’t felt the need to look nice for anyone. After all, who was there to impress when you weren't leaving the house? Your days blurred together in a cycle of work, staying in, and trying to forget the ache that came with remembering. So you fell into a pattern of sweatpants, oversized shirts, and fuzzy socks. 

But tonight was different. You wanted to make an effort, to show Tony that you appreciated their kindness, their willingness to be there for you without expecting anything in return. So you stood in front of your mirror, staring at your reflection as you did your hair, fixed your face and slipped into an outfit that made you feel like yourself again—put together, confident, maybe even a little happy.

When you met Tony at the place they suggested, a new bar called Brandy’s, you couldn’t help but laugh at how different it was from O’Keefe’s. It was sailor-themed, with ropes hanging from the ceiling, ship wheels mounted on the walls, and bartenders dressed in sailor uniforms, stripes and all. The vibe was lighter, more playful, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t need to be weighed down by memories tonight—you just wanted to relax and forget about everything for a little while.

“Hey!” Tony called out when they saw you walking in, waving from the bar. You made your way over, a genuine smile breaking across your face for the first time in what felt like ages.

“Hey,” you greeted back, sliding onto the barstool beside them. “This place is... something.”

Tony grinned, sliding a drink menu your way. “Yeah, thought it’d be a fun change of pace. And, uh, if you’re in the mood for anything fruity or with a silly name, this is definitely the place.”

You chuckled, scanning the menu. “Well, in that case, I might just have to try whatever sounds the most ridiculous.” 

The two of you laughed, and for a brief moment, the pain of the last few weeks faded into the background. You weren’t just the girl who told Spencer Reid she loved him and was left with the silence afterward. Tonight, you were just you—someone who could enjoy a night out with a new friend, a fruity cocktail, and maybe even the chance to find a little bit of joy again.

You sipped your Seas the Day, topped with a tiny paper anchor and an unnecessary but charming amount of fruit garnish—and let the flavors wash over your tongue. It was sweet, tangy, and almost too much, but it was exactly what you needed to cut through the weight that had been pressing down on your chest for weeks. And as Tony launched into another joke, punctuating each punchline with an easy laugh, you could feel that weight start to melt away, just a little bit.

“And then, get this,” Tony continued, eyes bright as they leaned closer, “the guy looks at the bartender and says, ‘You call that a shipwreck? Looks more like a dinghy disaster to me!’” 

You couldn't help but burst out laughing, the ridiculousness of the joke amplified by Tony’s delivery. It was silly, light, and the kind of humor that didn’t require you to overthink or analyze or worry—just laugh. And it felt good. The kind of good that had been missing for so long, you almost forgot what it felt like.

The stress that had been holding your shoulders tight seemed to leave with each sip of your drink, each joke that Tony threw your way. They were a natural storyteller, bringing every moment to life with wild hand gestures and exaggerated voices that made you forget where you were, who you were supposed to be missing. The bar around you blurred into background noise, a sea of laughter and warmth, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you were floating—untethered from the thoughts of regret, from the sadness of everything that happened with Spencer. 

It was nice, being around someone who didn’t ask for more, who didn’t know the messy, tangled history you were trying to leave behind. Tony’s company was easy, free from expectation. And as you laughed over their jokes and sipped your drink, you let yourself relax into it, letting the night carry you away to a place where your heart didn't feel so heavy. Even if it was just for tonight, it was enough.

You and Tony stumbled out of Brandy’s hours later, practically hanging off each other in a giggling mess. The night had been a perfect distraction, and you were grateful to Tony for every dumb joke, every ridiculous story. The cool night air hit your face, making you laugh even harder as you both swayed down the sidewalk, your head light from the drinks and the company. 

But your laughter stopped cold when you heard your name called out from behind you. You froze, your smile faltering as you turned your head to see Spencer and his team, clustered together on the sidewalk just a short way down. For a second, you just stared, feeling like the world had paused around you. It seemed you weren’t the only one searching for a new spot to drown out reality tonight. You could see the surprise etched on their faces—JJ, Emily, Derek, Penelope—and Spencer, whose eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart jump in your chest. You could practically feel the tension crackling between you, hanging heavy in the air like fog, and it made your stomach twist.

But Tony was blissfully unaware, their good mood carrying them right through the awkwardness as they spotted Penelope. “Penny!” Tony cheered, bounding over to give her a hug, their voice warm and full of excitement. “What are you doing here? Fancy running into you like this!”

Penelope’s expression softened at Tony’s hug, but you could see the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered between you, Tony, and Spencer. You followed Tony like a shadow, your smile fading into something tight and uncomfortable as you kept your eyes downcast, trailing behind and watching your feet move over the pavement. You couldn't look at Spencer, couldn’t face the way his expression would cut through you. So you just kept your focus on Tony’s shoes, willing the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Uh... hey, Tony,” Penelope greeted, a little off-kilter as she glanced over at Spencer, who hadn’t said a word, his face pale and unreadable. You could see her mind racing, torn between wanting to ask Tony about your supposed "date" and trying to protect Spencer from whatever mess was about to unfold. But sweet, tipsy Tony wasn’t picking up on any of it. They were still riding high on the night, blissfully unaware of the tense energy radiating around you all like a storm cloud about to burst.

“Have you guys met Y/N?” Tony asked excitedly, their arm waving in your direction, as if presenting you to a crowd for the first time. “She’s the best—totally fun to go out with. You all should come out with us next time!”

You wanted to sink into the pavement. Your eyes darted up just long enough to see the team's reactions—their hesitant smiles, the uncertainty, the surprise. And Spencer... Spencer just stared, his jaw tight, his eyes dark as they flickered between you and Tony, like he was trying to make sense of the scene in front of him, to piece together how you’d gone from loving him to laughing with someone else. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and all you could do was force a smile and nod along, pretending like this wasn’t the most awkward moment of your life, like you weren’t standing here, your whole heart laid bare and torn apart in front of the very people you’d tried so hard to avoid.

“Yeah, we know Y/N,” JJ said with a smile, trying to keep things light despite the thick tension in the air. She gave a small wave, her eyes soft and encouraging. “Hi.”

“Hey, guys,” you replied, your voice tight and strained, but you managed to look up for just a second, flashing a quick smile at the group. You could see the mix of emotions on their faces—Emily with her raised brow, JJ’s gentle attempt at normalcy, and Derek, his expression far harder to read.

Derek’s face was set in a hardened line as he studied you and Tony, clearly trying to piece together what was going on. “This a date, or something?” he asked bluntly, his tone skeptical as his eyes flicked from you to Spencer, who was standing stiffly to the side, now staring down at the ground.

Tony burst into laughter at that, the sound light and airy, cutting through the tension. “No! I asked Y/N on a date, but she said nooo,” they said, dragging out the word with a playful giggle. “We’re just friends. Really good friends, right?” They turned back to look at you, and their smile was so earnest, so kind, that you felt a small weight lift from your chest.

“Yeah,” you agreed, returning Tony's smile as best you could. “Really good friends.” You were grateful for their lightheartedness, the way they so easily cleared up the misunderstanding without any pressure, any drama. You could almost breathe again.

“Are you ready?” you asked, hoping to get away before the tension could bubble up again, before you had to look at Spencer and face whatever emotions were swirling in his eyes.

Tony nodded enthusiastically, linking their arm through yours as they tugged you gently away, back into the night, in search of a cab. You didn’t look back, even as you could feel the team's eyes burning into your back, the weight of their stares heavy on your shoulders.

As you disappeared around the corner, the team shared glances, murmurs of confusion and disbelief mixing in the cool air. “What the hell was that?” Emily finally said under her breath, crossing her arms and looking at Spencer, who hadn’t moved an inch since you walked away.

“Does anyone know what's going on with them?” JJ asked softly, her concern written plainly on her face as she glanced at each of her teammates.

But Spencer just shook his head, his jaw clenched tight as he stared after you, watching the space you’d disappeared into, as if willing you to come back, to explain, to make everything make sense again. But you were gone, leaving him standing there, alone and uncertain, with the words he wished he’d said still lodged in his throat.

Penelope spoke up, breaking the uneasy silence with a hesitant, thoughtful tone. “Tony told me he asked her out, so I guess it turned out to be a friend date,” she explained, trying to piece together what had happened with as much optimism as she could muster. But her eyes flickered to Spencer, full of concern and an almost desperate need to make things better. “But that’s good, right?” she asked, her voice a little higher than usual, like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

Every pair of eyes turned to Spencer then, and he felt like he was shrinking under their intense stares. He could sense their silent questions, their confusion, and their concern, all boring into him like a spotlight. He didn’t know what to say, how to make it right—he just knew that something felt very wrong. 

Derek’s sigh broke the tension, and his hand landed heavily on Spencer’s shoulder, grounding him. “Listen, kid,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’ve been giving you your space about the breakup, but I think it’s time you talk about it.”

Spencer nodded slowly, knowing deep down that Derek was right. He had kept this locked up for too long, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, suffocating him. So, without another word, the five of them made their way into Brandy’s. They found a booth tucked into a quiet corner and ordered a pitcher of beer, the clinking of glasses and hum of the bar settling into the background as Spencer prepared to speak.

It all came spilling out—the truth, the messy, complicated story of what had really happened between you and him. How you’d started as casual hookups, how that grew into something more, how it was all tangled up in silences and unspoken feelings, until finally, you told him you loved him. And how he let you walk away. He felt the vulnerability of it, laying everything bare, every mistake, every regret, and the team’s reactions were a mix of shock, confusion, and sympathy.

“Why didn’t you tell her how you felt?” Penelope asked softly, her eyes wide and filled with empathy, trying to wrap her head around it all.

Spencer shrugged, staring down into his glass. He wished he could explain it better, wished he could pinpoint the exact moment he decided to let you go, but it was all so muddled now. “I guess I was mad at her,” he said, his voice small, and it hurt to say it out loud, to admit it.

“What for?” Emily asked, leaning in closer, her brows knitting together in concern and bewilderment.

Spencer looked up, meeting each of their eyes before letting his gaze drop back down to his hands, which JJ was now holding tightly, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles on his knuckles. “She... she liked me—loved me—the whole time, or at least some of it, and didn’t tell me,” he admitted, the bitterness of those words tasting sour in his mouth. “I... I thought she just wanted sex, that she didn't care about me the way I cared about her. And then, she told me, and it felt like a lie, like... like she’d been hiding something from me all along.”

Penelope’s face softened in understanding, and JJ squeezed his hands tighter. “But, Spencer,” she said gently, “you were doing the same thing, weren’t you? Hiding how you felt?”

Spencer nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping as the weight of it all settled on him. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I guess I was. And by the time she told me... I was too angry to see it for what it was. I let her walk away because... because I thought I had to protect myself. But I think I just... made everything worse.”

The team sat there in silence, absorbing Spencer’s words, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, of everything that had gone unspoken between you and him. It was Derek who finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a note of gentle insistence. “Well, you gotta tell her now,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

The others nodded in agreement, small hums of assent as they turned their eyes back to Spencer, a mixture of encouragement and urgency on their faces. Emily leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, and tried to lift the mood, offering a teasing suggestion. “Maybe take her coffee tomorrow,” she said, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “She looked like a precursor to a hangover tonight.” 

The attempt at lightening the mood worked; the table filled with quiet giggles, the tension lifting just enough to let out a shared breath. Even Spencer cracked a smile, the knot in his chest loosening just a little as he let himself imagine it—showing up to see you, holding your favorite coffee in his hands like a peace offering, and finally saying all the things he’d held back for so long.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, the word coming out like a sigh of relief. “I was going to tell her, but then Tony asked her out, and I thought I lost my chance.” His smile faltered as he said it, that same feeling of panic creeping back in, that sinking sensation that he’d already missed his window and that any attempt to reach you would be too late, too little. 

“But Tony’s not a threat,” JJ chimed in gently, squeezing his hand again. “You heard them tonight—they’re just friends.”

“Besides, it doesn’t matter who else asks her out,” Derek said, his voice firm as he looked Spencer straight in the eyes. “What matters is how you feel. You love her, man. You gotta tell her that. Don’t let some hang-up stop you from getting what you really want.”

“Yeah, Reid,” Penelope added softly, her voice carrying that loving, encouraging tone that always managed to make him feel safe. “You two... you need to talk. Really talk.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a swell of determination rising within him, the first real sense of hope he’d felt in months. He knew they were right—he had to try. Even if it meant risking rejection, even if it meant being vulnerable in a way he’d never been before, he needed to tell you how he felt.  

So as he sat there, surrounded by his friends, Spencer began to plan how he would show you that he wanted more than just fleeting nights and tangled sheets—he wanted you. All of you. Everything.

—

You woke up to the unpleasant stickiness of dried drool on your face. Your mouth felt like sandpaper, parched from a night of laughter, late hours, and whatever concoction of sugary alcohol you’d downed at Brandy’s. But, thankfully, your half-drunk self had taken care of the essentials the night before, leaving a full water bottle by your bedside. You reached over, popped it open, and chugged gratefully, the water flooding your senses with relief as you rehydrated.

The hangover was mild, nothing too aggressive—it wasn’t like you’d drunk all that much. You knew deep down you’d mostly been drunk on the fun of the night, on Tony’s kindness, on the fleeting joy of having someone distract you from your thoughts, your heartache. It made waking up easier, even if your head throbbed a little when you sat up.

With a groan, you pulled yourself out of bed, the coolness of the floor grounding you as you stretched, taking your time to shake off the morning fog. You went through the familiar motions: washing your face, brushing your hair, and scrubbing your teeth.

You didn’t have any real plans for the day, just the usual routine of catching up on chores, maybe grabbing coffee later if you felt up for it. But today felt a little lighter, a little easier. And as you made your way into the kitchen, the morning sun spilling through the window and warming the floor beneath your feet, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this day wouldn’t be so hard after all.

But then a knock sounded from the front door of your apartment, startling you. You paused, trying to figure out who it could be. I don’t remember ordering any packages, you thought, and my neighbors barely know I exist. You waited a moment, hoping maybe whoever it was would just leave, but the knock came again—this time more persistent, the sound echoing through your quiet apartment.

You hated answering the door. Not because you were afraid of who might be there, but because you hated the possibility of small talk, the awkwardness of forced pleasantries, the interruptions to your peaceful solitude. It's one of the reasons you went into IT, the comfort of working with machines and problems that could be solved with logic, not conversation. So you stood there for another beat, hoping to hear the telltale sound of retreating footsteps. But there was nothing. Just silence, and then, annoyingly, another knock. 

“God,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as you stomped toward the door. Whoever it was, they were persistent, and clearly weren’t getting the hint that you just wanted to be left alone.

You swung open the door, your frustration ready to spill over as you began to speak, “Hello—”

But the words caught in your throat the moment you saw who was standing there.

“Spencer?” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, the shock hitting you like a splash of cold water. There he was, standing right in front of you, looking just as surprised to see you as you were to see him, his face a mixture of hope, nerves, and something unreadable that made your stomach flip. He was holding two cups of coffee, and it felt surreal, like a scene pulled straight from a dream you hadn’t quite woken up from.

“Hi,” he said, offering a small, hesitant smile, and suddenly the world around you seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you standing there, the morning hanging heavy with words unspoken. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion and something close to disbelief. You were still trying to process the fact that Spencer was standing in front of you, holding coffee like this was something normal—something that happened often.

Spencer shifted his weight nervously, glancing down at the two cups in his hands before looking back up at you, searching your face. “I—uh, I thought I’d bring you coffee,” he stammered, the words sounding more like a question than a statement. “To help with... the hangover?” He trailed off, looking at you with those wide, earnest eyes that made it impossible to be mad, even if you wanted to be.

You raised a brow, not quite sure what to make of this sudden gesture. But after a moment, you stepped aside, holding the door open wider. “Okay,” you said, your voice softer now, and gestured for him to come in.

Spencer hesitated just for a second before walking in, and you watched as his eyes moved across the space, taking it all in. The apartment felt different now, seeing it in the daylight. The wide, almost floor-to-ceiling windows were uncovered, letting the morning light stream in and cast warm shadows on the walls. You’d always liked the way the plants scattered around the room bathed in the sunlight, their leaves turning vibrant shades of green, and the way the fabric of the couch gleamed just a bit in the soft light. But Spencer had never seen it like this. He’d only ever been here at night, when the only illumination was the dim glow of lamps and the city lights outside.

“Those are... nice windows,” he said suddenly, as if noticing them for the first time, his eyes lingering on the bright view of the landscape beyond. He sounded almost surprised, like he hadn’t expected your space to be like this—bright, open, comforting and calm.

“Thank you…” you replied, a little awkwardly, still trying to wrap your head around why Spencer was here, in your apartment, holding coffee and making small talk about windows. You took the cup from his hand, your fingers brushing his briefly, and felt that familiar warmth spread up your arm, making your chest feel tight. You wanted to say something—anything—to cut through the tension hanging between you. But you didn’t know where to start. 

You both stood there for a moment, as you searched each other's faces for answers. 

“How are you?” Spencer asked softly, and the simplicity of the question caught you off guard. It was the same question he’d asked months ago, the one that had started everything between you, the beginning of the friends-with-benefits arrangement that had rapidly spiraled. And now, hearing those words again felt like a punch to the gut, bringing all those memories rushing back to the surface.

You froze, trying to decide how to answer. There were a million things you wanted to say, a thousand ways to tell him how hard it had been, how much you missed him, how your heart ached every time you thought about him, and how you’d felt so stupid for letting yourself fall. But the words tangled in your throat, and you didn’t know which to pick.

“I’ve been... better,” you finally said, opting for honesty. What was the point in pretending, anyway? You’d already given up any sense of dignity around this man. You weren’t going to lie to him now, not after everything that had happened, not when he’d come all the way here.

Spencer's eyes softened, his expression turning pained at your words. He took a small step closer, like he wanted to reach out, but his hand hovered just inches from yours before he pulled it back, uncertainty clouding his face. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve been... pretty awful, too.”

You looked down, the coffee cup warm in your hands, and nodded. “Yeah, well... that's what happens, I guess,” you mumbled. “When you... you know, ruin everything.” Your laugh came out bitter and hollow as you gestured at yourself, and you hated how raw and vulnerable you felt, like every emotion was sitting on the surface, ready to spill over.

“I don't think you ruined anything,” he said softly, his voice so gentle it made you want to cry. “Or at least... not beyond fixing.” Spencer's gaze was steady, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like he was really seeing you—like the walls you’d both built around yourselves were crumbling, leaving nothing but truth between you. 

You shook your head slightly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears from falling. “Then why are you here, Spencer?” You forced the words out, your voice trembling with every question you’d held back for so long. “Why now? What do you want from me?” 

You hadn’t meant to sound so broken, so defeated, but the way Spencer looked at you made it feel like maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be strong anymore. Not with him. And it terrified you, how much you wanted to hear whatever he was going to say next.

“I just want you,” Spencer said, his voice plain and sure, like it was the simplest truth in the world. The words hung between you, raw and unadorned, and for a moment, you could barely breathe, barely process what he'd just said. 

Your eyes met his, searching for any hesitation, any sign that he might take it back—that this was just another moment you’d misread. But there was none. His eyes were steady, intent, and every part of him seemed to lean toward you as if he was ready to close the distance that had kept you apart for so long. 

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart pound painfully in your chest. “Spencer...” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words caught somewhere between disbelief and hope. “But... you said you didn’t... I thought—” The excuses tumbled over themselves in your mind, but none of them could erase the way he was looking at you now, with all the longing and tenderness you’d ever wanted to let yourself see.

Spencer shook his head, taking that last step closer, his body just inches from yours, and this time, there was no hesitation, no fear in his touch. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and you felt the familiar warmth of his fingers against your skin. It was like everything else in the world faded away, leaving just the two of you, in this tiny pocket of time where all that mattered was what you both felt.

“I never got to say anything,” he said softly, his voice low and rough with emotion. “You left before I could.” His thumb stroked your cheek in a tender, slow rhythm, and the touch was so gentle, so careful, it made your heart ache.

“You asked if I wanted to keep having sex,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as you forced yourself to look at him, to see the truth in his eyes. 

Spencer let out a breath, one that seemed to carry all the frustration and pain of the past few weeks. “You inferred that that’s what I was asking,” he corrected gently. “And maybe it was, in some way... I don’t know what I was going to say then. I was so conflicted, so... scared. Scared of wanting you, scared of losing you, scared of loving you. But... I’m not anymore,” he continued, and there was a steadiness to his voice now, a certainty that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. “I know what I want. I love you, Y/N.”

The words fell softly between you, but they felt like fireworks going off in your chest, like every broken piece inside you was being stitched back together by the way he said them. And as you stood there, his hand on your cheek, your lips parted in shock and your eyes filled with tears, you could see it—all the love, all the vulnerability, all the things he’d been too afraid to show you before.

Your breath hitched, and you placed your hand over his, pressing his palm tighter against your cheek as you let the truth of his words sink in. “You... you love me?” you asked, as if saying it aloud would make it more real, as if you needed to hear it again to believe that it was really happening. 

Spencer nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he smiled, a small, fragile thing that grew more certain with every second. “I love you,” he repeated, each word clear and steady. “I have for a long time. And I want to be with you, not just... physically, not just as friends with benefits. I want all of it. I want you. Everything.”

You felt a sob building in your throat, but it wasn’t a sad sound—it was relief, joy, everything you’d been holding back crashing over you all at once. And as you leaned in, your lips finding his in a kiss that was soft, tender, and full of all the love that had gone unspoken between you for so long, you felt something fall into place, something that had been missing finally becoming whole.

The kiss deepened, becoming heated and urgent, both of you rediscovering the taste and feel of each other like it was the first time all over again. You could feel the way Spencer’s body leaned into yours, could feel how badly you both wanted to close every inch of space between you. And for a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your hands tangling in his hair, his arm winding around your waist like he never wanted to let you go.

But then you pulled back, breaking the kiss with a shaky breath, pressing your forehead against his as you tried to steady yourself. “Wait, wait,” you managed to say between breaths, “I don’t—don’t want to have sex. Not for a while.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, the confusion clear on his face, but he didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his eyes searching yours, and you could see the genuine concern there, the way he was listening to every word. “Okay,” he nodded slowly, voice gentle. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Can I... can I ask why?”

You let out a sigh, trying to find the right words. It was hard to say aloud, especially when the temptation to be with him physically was so strong, when every part of your body ached to feel close to him again. But this was important—this was different. “I just... I want to be with you,” you explained softly, meeting his eyes, wanting him to see how much you meant it. “And get to know you in every other way first. No rushing into things. I want... everything to feel right.”

And there it was—the truth that you’d been holding back for so long. That what you wanted with him wasn’t just fleeting, wasn’t just something that could be captured in a night. You wanted the full, messy, beautiful truth of being with Spencer—without the fear that it was only about the physical.

Spencer’s face softened, his confusion melting away into a wide, affectionate grin, one that filled his whole face with light and made your heart do that little flip it always did whenever he smiled like that. “I am completely on board with that,” he said, his voice full of warmth, no hesitation in his tone. “I’ll take all the time you need. And I’ll be here for all of it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a surge of joy and relief bubble up in your chest as you wrapped your arms around him again. “Aye aye, captain,” you teased, and the two of you laughed together, the sound filling the quiet morning and making everything feel hopeful and new.

And as you held each other close, and stood together, just soaking in the moment, you knew that for the first time, you were going to do this right—take your time, learn every little thing about each other, and make it real. 

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[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked, “What happened? You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?!  “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

[cheynovak]

Passion and Redemption

Dean Winchester x Y/N female character

Summary: Dean and Y/N are secretly hooking up. They both reclaim their virginity during a hunt. Dean get jealous and seize the moment to let Y/N know what she'd be missing if she left.

Set in season 9 ep 8 - see video

Warnings: talk of sex. nothing explicit

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. like/share/comments are appreciated.

The Impala's engine rumbled softly as it idled in front of the small church. Dean cut the engine and glanced at Y/N in the rearview mirror. She was sitting quietly in the backseat, her gaze fixed on the church entrance. Sam shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, clearly not looking forward to this virginity-restoring "purity" meeting. Dean wasn’t either—but for different reasons.

The last few hunts had been intense, and Y/N had proven herself invaluable. Quick, smart, and fearless in the face of monsters. But last night, Dean had seen something that messed with his head. He’d caught her chatting up a bartender, leaning in close, giving him that same smile she gave Dean when they were alone. He swore he saw her slip the guy a napkin, probably with her number on it.

His gut twisted with jealousy and anger. He and Y/N had been hooking up in secret for weeks, and while Dean wasn’t one for serious relationships, seeing her with someone else stung more than he wanted to admit. All morning, he'd been giving her the cold shoulder, keeping his distance. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

Sam’s voice broke the silence. “You guys ready for this?”

Dean snorted. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Sammy.

Y/N gave a quiet sigh from the backseat, her arms crossed. She followed the brothers into the church, where they were greeted by a circle of people—mostly women—waiting for the session to begin. Pamphlets were spread across a long table in the center, with a large cross mounted on the wall behind it. Dean found a seat, Sam beside him, and Y/N a few chairs away.

The leader clapped her hands, smiling brightly at the group. “Welcome, everyone! Today, we’re going to open up about why we’ve decided to give up sex. Whether it’s for spiritual reasons, emotional healing, or just a fresh start, we’re here to support one another.”

Dean rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who enjoyed sharing his feelings with a group of strangers.

One by one, the participants shared their stories. Some mentioned past heartbreak, others trauma, and a few spoke about wanting to strengthen their spiritual connection. When it came to Y/N’s turn, she sat up straighter, her voice cool and steady.

“All men are the same,” she said, eyes locking onto Dean’s with a sharpness that made him wince. “They take what they want, then toss you aside when they’re done.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. That one hit a little too close to home. She was talking about him. She had to be. But what the hell? It wasn’t like he’d thrown her aside… not yet, anyway. He wasn’t even sure what was going on between them. Either way, hearing her say that stung.

Then, it was Dean’s turn. He leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin creeping across his face. If she was going to throw shots at him, he might as well play it up.

“Well,” he started, his voice dropping into that familiar, low tone, "Sex has always felt, I don't know... good. You know, really... really good."

He couldn't look at her as he continued. "But eh, sometimes it just makes you feel bad. You know, you're drunk, take a girl home, you shack up."

"Then it's the whole morning thing you know. Hey that was fun." He looked at Y/N now, giving her a low blow. "And then it's hard to let her down, to tell her... adios."

He looked back at his hands. "Always the adios"

“when you get down to it, what's the big deal? Sure, there's the touching, the feeling all of each other... my hands everywhere, tracing every inch of her body." He shifted in his seat, watching the women in the room lean in just a little closer. "The two of us moving together, pressing, pulling, grinding… and then you hit that sweet spot and everything just builds, builds and builds until it all just… "

*explosion noise*

He made a little hand gesture to go along with the sound, and a few of the women giggled, cheeks flushing pink. Dean wasn’t done yet, though.

“But, you know," he added with a casual shrug, "the whole thing’s just a little too… sticky.”

The room fell silent, the mood shifted from amused to confused. The way Dean casually tossed that last line out there, like he was commenting on something trivial, left everyone a bit off guard. Even Sam shot him a bewildered look.

Y/N’s lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowing. She was pissed, no doubt about it. Dean could practically feel the heat of her glare burning into him, but he couldn’t resist the smug satisfaction that came with knowing he was getting under her skin.

The leader, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation, gave a polite chuckle and moved on to the next person, but the tension between Dean and Y/N was palpable. Dean didn’t look at her directly, but he could feel her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

As the meeting wrapped up and everyone filed out, Dean lingered near the door, waiting for Sam and Y/N. When she passed him, she didn’t say a word, but her shoulder brushed against his in a way that was far from accidental.

Sam, oblivious as always, gave Dean a nod. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, watching Y/N’s retreating figure. “I’m coming.”

But as they left the church and headed back to the Impala, Dean knew he had a problem on his hands. Y/N was angry, and he wasn’t sure if it was just the jealousy talking or something deeper. Either way, they were going to have to deal with it—and when they did, there was no telling how things were going to play out.

Dean just hoped they didn't just crossed a line too far.

--

Y/N barely had time to settle into her motel room when she heard a knock on the door. She sighed, knowing exactly who it was. She debated ignoring it, but the knocking came again, more insistent this time. Reluctantly, she got up and opened the door, revealing Dean standing there, jaw tight and eyes full of irritation.

Before she could say anything, he brushed past her into the room, the door swinging shut behind him.

“Was that really necessary?” he snapped, turning to face her. “To hit me like that?”

Y/N blinked, completely caught off guard. “Hit you!?” she shot back, hands on her hips. “I didn’t hit you, Dean!”

“Yeah, well, that look you gave me might as well have been a right hook,” Dean growled, frustration seeping into his voice. “You could’ve jeopardized the whole damn hunt with that glare. Everyone in the room was ready to eat me alive!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, I could’ve jeopardized the hunt? Really, Dean? How about mister let me give all 20 women in the room an orgasm at once? Maybe that's why they where eating you alive! You overdid it, Dean! You didn’t sound the least bit sorry about premarital sex—you made it sound like a damn celebration”

Dean’s face hardened, his jaw tightening even more. “At least I didn’t stand up there and act like I’d been thrown aside like yesterday’s garbage while I’m handing out my number to every bartender I meet!”

Y/N’s expression shifted from angry to confused in an instant. “What?” She stared at him, searching his face for some clue as to what the hell he was talking about. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you last night,” Dean shot back, his voice dripping with accusation. “At the bar. With that bartender. You were all over him, and you slipped him a napkin with your number. Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

Y/N blinked again, her confusion growing. “Wait, that’s what this is about, why you act so weird around me?” She shook her head, almost laughing in disbelief. “Dean, I didn’t give him my number.”

Dean folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. “Right. I saw it. You handed him a napkin.”

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, Dean, I handed him the napkin back. He wrote his number on it, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but then paused. The jealousy and anger that had been fueling him began to fizzle out as the realization hit. His arms dropped to his sides, and he looked away, feeling like an idiot. He’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, and now it was clear.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re serious?”

Y/N crossed her arms, still glaring at him. “Yeah, Dean. I’m serious. I wasn’t giving out my number. I was turning him down.”

Dean stood there, awkwardly shifting on his feet. The jealousy that had driven him all day now felt completely misplaced, and the frustration that had clouded his thoughts suddenly seemed ridiculous.

“You said you were… seeing someone?” Dean asked cautiously, his voice softer now, laced with hesitation.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment before she nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

Dean swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to backpedal after everything he’d accused her of. He felt a sudden swell of guilt for doubting her, but he wasn’t used to this—this vulnerability, this caring.

“I guess I…” He trailed off, his voice quieter. “I don’t know what I thought.”

Y/N’s glare softened, and she took a step closer. “You really thought I’d just… move on like that? After everything?”

Dean shook his head, his usual cockiness gone. “No. I just—when I saw you with him, I freaked. I’m not good at this, Y/N. I’m used to keeping things casual, but this… whatever this is with us, it’s different. And I guess I was scared I was the only one feeling it.”

Y/N looked up at him, her expression softening as the tension between them slowly ebbed away. “You’re an idiot, but I get it.”

Dean let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, finally letting his guard down. “Yeah, well… wouldn’t be the first time.”

They stood there for a moment, the anger and confusion dissipating. Y/N took another step closer, her arms dropping to her sides as she looked up at him, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally said, his voice low and genuine. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

Y/N nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “No, you shouldn’t have. But you’re an idiot, and I kinda expected it.”

Dean smirked, stepping closer until they were inches apart. “I guess I owe you for that one, huh?”

“Big time.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. Y/N smiled, "Next time, just tell me what’s going on before you go full jealous caveman, okay?” Y/N whispered.

Dean laughed softly, shaking her head. “Deal.”

They stood there, the air between them lighter now, though still charged with that familiar tension. Dean looked down at her, his eyes softening, and without thinking, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Y/N smiled, leaning into his touch, and for the first time all day, Dean felt the knot in his chest unwind.

Dean stood there, that familiar lopsided grin creeping across his face, the tension between them melting away, replaced by something warmer, more intimate.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I guess I have an idea how I can make it up to you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, playing along as her lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, you do?”

Dean stepped closer, his hands gently resting on her hips, pulling her toward him. “If I’m remembering right,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, “you told me once that you had a… less-than-stellar first time, right?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly where this was going, and she couldn’t help but smile as she nodded, her voice soft. “Uh-huh. Why?”

Dean’s lips captured hers in a soft, lingering kiss. He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Well, technically… we’re both virgins again, aren’t we?”

He kissed her again, more insistent this time, and Y/N could feel the heat between them intensify. The playful teasing had dissolved into something real, something they both wanted.

“Maybe I can right some wrongs,” Dean murmured against her lips, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. "What do you think, can I be your first Y/N?"

Y/N hummed softly, her hands threading through his hair as she kissed him back, letting the warmth spread through her. She could feel her heart racing, her body responding to every touch. As they broke apart for air, she giggled softly, pushing him toward the bed with a playful shove.

Dean let out a surprised laugh as he landed on the mattress, looking up at her with a mix of amusement and desire. “Finally,” she teased, crawling on top of him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “mister Winchester has a master plan.”

Dean grinned up at her, his hands sliding up her thighs, his voice rough with desire. “Yeah, and it’s one I don’t plan on messing up.”

Y/N leaned down, her lips hovering just above his as she whispered,

“You’d better not.”

--

Taglist:

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[jymwahuwu]

(Ignore this if this isn’t your thing)

I think about sugar daddy Yan jing yuan- man got money I know it I know he also prob has more then 2 black cards and lives in a nice home. He be such a sweet sugar daddy but also manipulative and sneaky too honesty. Yan sugar daddy jing yuan pays for EVERYTHING and I mean everything- bills? Done, high education degree?, paid for all the years you take, food? Done, shopping?- just know you can buy whatever you want with daddy money but you also have to get him a nice and cute pair of lingerie for him to see on you UwU.

And it’s not even thag hard for him too- he has the money and the status I mean- if the great general makes dinner reservation I just know the owner will literally be the one to physically be the host, take your orders, cook the meal themselves with their best chief, and serve it with the best personality and smile. Honestly it be no suprised you get the best views or the entire place is slightly empty bc of his status

Shops will absolutely bend over back for him when he walks around, if he ask if there’s a specific peice of lingerie set that they say it was out of stock- suddnly it’s there-

Always he makes sure your given the best in life UwU

He does all this with a few conditions that you have to follow. Each day 8 kisses, always hold him when in public, sit on lap when he’s in his office reading documents, and most importantly take his cock every hour 7 days a week. Yan sugar daddy jing is essentially molding you to a pretty wife for him.

don’t even think about ending this with him because you may see him as a only cash and sugar daddy but to him- your practically his girlfriend soon to be bride to soon to wife. If you do try all that money he given you will just be gone all of a sudden and your left with practically nothing. You’ll have to come back to jing since he always provides you so well.

Once you crawl back he’ll go UwU ofc baby one thing. And that one thing is he gonna fuking you Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday week- every hour, every minute, every second night after night sevens days a week (totally not a song reference 🫢) because after all that it so your too fucked to ever think you could just end things with him like that

You be play and be his pretty little wife and he will absolutely spoil you beyond your dreams. (Ik those dinner dates he takes you have to be SO NICE and these are def just mt extremes dreams to be his wife)

Thank you for writing such length of thoughts, it was a pleasure to read, sugar daddy jing yuan is something I have never thought of before because I was not interested... but 🫣 But this one is good, I added some background stories 😚💖

CW: yandere, non-con/dub-con, manipulation, abuse of power, fem! reader

You need money, really, you need this. You need to pay your bills, maybe it's an accident, maybe it's medical bills for your important person/pet, maybe you're too exhausted to meet those credit requirements, or some other reason. You move into smaller apartments again and again, eat fast food, and sigh while watching space TV. You need to move to a planet with more opportunities, but how? As you swipe your phone screen, a dating social media ad appears in front of you.

You hesitated for a while, but you still signed up, feeling a little nervous and apprehensive. You simply filled in the information. This application should be very popular. There are users from some cosmic species you have never heard of. The photo only shows a blurry profile of you. Out of place among all the pretty, confident headshots. The introduction simply states your hobbies, you… just want to do things like kissing, cuddling, and dating. Sex is the last step. You don’t think much about it for the moment.

A few days later. You're still going about your life, only getting messages from weirdos saying things like, "I want to cum on your face," "Can you give me a clear picture of your thighs?", "It's mating season on our planet. you can come here”. You always delete and block them directly, which is a bit frustrating. And you get another new message, but this time it's a little special.

Anonymous: hi

Anonymous: want to see a picture of my little lion? 🥺 she is adorable.

You: …?

And then you do receive so many adorable photos of his pet lion that your heart melts. You open a series of topics with this user. His profile picture isn't a real person either, but a picture of a kitten showing her belly to invite pampering. You gradually learned more about him and you felt relaxed talking to him, but of course he didn't forget to discuss...intimate things with you.

Then, the user invites you to meet to discuss more details, and even the cost of traveling through space is prepared for you. That is an electronic certification of a VIP ticket. The stewards of those spaceships bow to you and are concerned about your needs, preparing exquisite meals, blankets and pillows for you. You've never been so far away from your own planet and treated so considerately.

The arrival place written on the ticket is Xianzhou Luofu...?

You quietly search for information about this space civilization, and shyly imagine what kind of person "he" would be. After you got off the spacecraft, you thought about finding public transportation, but someone was waiting for you there and took you to the General's Mansion.

You: Wait...did you take me to the wrong place...

The assistant smiled slightly and left, leaving you standing helpless in the garden of the General's Mansion. The one you've been chatting with for months (the one who was even sending you uwu and kitten love memes last night)...is - one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance. General Jing Yuan?

But you knew it was him as soon as the burly, majestic man with long white hair opened his mouth. When he caught a glimpse of you, his eyes like the golden sun lit up, and he rushed directly in front of you. He put his right hand on your soft hip and took you off the ground. "Baby, I finally meet you…" You squirmed, feeling overwhelmed and embarrassed, "You-you put me down first..."

"Oh… sure, my bad." After being reminded, Jing Yuan carefully put you down so that your legs could stand balanced on the ground. “We can’t kiss while I’m holding you like this,” he said before kissing your lips deeply. Your heart felt like a lightning strike, and you were frightened by such a meeting.

Is this normal? Is it developing too fast…?

The words and topics you prepared have no effect at all. After a luxurious dinner and confession (?), Jing Yuan carried you in his arms, entered the room and started caressing and breeding. You wrap your hands around his neck and stare at his sculptured, delicate face, his eyes flashing with some unknown desire. Those long white strands of his hair fell on your chest and tickled. Your legs were stretched out and were sore from being pressed by his balls and cock. The white seed kept flowing out unbearably, but you were required to keep your legs clamped around his waist to better receive the seed. Your lips parted, tears kept flowing down your cheeks, moans and cries were faintly heard in your throat, and your lower body was filled with sticky and loud pounding. The previous agreement (only kisses, hugs and dates) was ignored.

You have been living in the General's Mansion since then and have no plans to return to your planet. Once you have such a plan, Jing Yuan will plead with you with puppy eyes to stay, even though he has no intention of allowing this. Then as you describe, the general pays for all your expenses, even before you ask for them. There are no credit points in your bank account (you don’t know why it became 0, and the account was even canceled later…). You can only use the two cards he gave you. Now, even though you are thirsty while shopping, you use his card to buy drinks instead of your own money. He pampers you and you can buy any beautiful clothes, shoes, whatever you want. Of course, you must also carefully select a set of underwear before you finish shopping, spread your legs on the bed and wait for him, otherwise Jing Yuan will not reimburse you for those expenses.

Kissing him at least 8 times a day and holding his hand are still required, but asking you to be by his side all the time is a bit too much, even though Jing Yuan wants that too. He is considerate and knows that you need some time to yourself, enjoy your hobbies and rest. If you want to listen to music, read a book, have a party, exercise, shop, watch a movie, just do it. As long as you don't take too long and can come back to him every night, Jing Yuan won't mind. Sitting on his lap while he reads papers is a perfect plus. You need to warm his cock, comfort him, or hide under his desk and service him for hours. Once Jing Yuan returns to the General's Mansion, it will be the beginning of a long night.

You've tried to change and leave him, but that ultimately failed. After all, you can't open a new bank account right now, and no bank in the galaxy would. There is no way to buy a return ticket...

If you do try to leave in a situation like this, you will only find that returning to him is the only way. Jing Yuan has to punish you a little and put you on the bed to start the sex marathon. When the general had to go to work, you were placed with an electric dildo the same size as him, bouncing and squirting until you learned your lesson and married him. You will be trained to be a pretty little wife, snuggling in his arms, forgetting that you just wanted to pay the bills.

Maybe you should ask him about the purpose of downloading this app in the first place. Jing Yuan is smart, but he won't lie about this. He wants you, wants to love you, and wants you to be his spouse for the rest of his life.

[haddonfieldwhore]

torn - vince dunn

vince dunn x fem!reader (x platonic! matthew tkachuk)

summary: with seattle on an 8 game losing streak, it’s even more difficult to choose who to cheer for; your boyfriend or your best friend

word count: 4k

warnings: language, a sprinkle of angst, drinking, nsfw themes implied but nothing explicit, mention of cheating

you fiddled absentmindedly with your fingers in your lap as you sat in the audience, paying little attention to the practice skate happening in the rink. your mind was elsewhere, unable to focus on your boyfriend vince dunn and his team as you thought about his instead. matthew tkachuk had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, and while you should have been overjoyed at the fact that you got to see him tonight, the fact that he was on the opposing team did slightly complicate things.

while it was just a game at the end of the day, it wasn’t at the same time. it felt like a double edged sword; while you knew you would be happy with whoever won, that also meant that one of your two favourite people had to lose, and you didn’t want that.

you breathed a sigh of relief that this was their last regular season game against eachother, the panthers and the kraken not meeting up too often. you felt you phone buzz in your pocket and checked it to see a text from matthew.

you looked up at the clock on the wall, which read 10:49am, meaning the kraken were almost done and you wouldn’t miss too much if you snuck out now.

you gathered your stuff, sneaking out without drawing attention to yourself, and not noticing the green eyes of your boyfriend flickering up to notice your empty seat. it was only about 15 minutes before matthew arrived, meeting you outside the cafe by sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. you let out a shriek, earning a few weird looks from people around the room as you turned around.

“you scared me!” you punched matthews chest lightly, before throwing your arms around his neck in a bone crushing hug.

“that was kind of the idea,” he laughed, holding you tight as he laughed. it had been months since you had seen him, and you always missed him like crazy when you were apart.

“you cut your hair!” you commented on his appearance as you finally looked at his face. you had obviously seen him on tv and in pictures since you last saw him in person, but it wasn’t the same as being fave to face. “last time i saw you your curls were crazy,” you smiled, remembering how long his hair had grown out.

“yeah, it’s a lot to fit under the helmet,” he smiled, and finally let go of you.

“also,” you began. “happy belated birthday! i can’t believe we were one day off from getting to spend it together,” you pouted, thinking of his birthday that had been just yesterday.

“thank you. we can celebrate tonight- after the game. i think we’re sticking around in seattle until at least tomorrow morning so we have all night.”

“deal,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

•

after a quick shower, vince towel dried his curly hair and threw on a kraken hoodie and some shorts, taking advantage of the warmer than usual weather despite it being mid december. usually after practice you were waiting for him outside the locker room, but he had a pretty good feeling that you wouldn’t be there to greet him today; the empty hallway confirming his suspicions as he sighed.

“everything okay? she’s never not here.”

vince looked up to nod his head softly at tye kartye, one of his teammates and one of your close friends. “where is she?”

“with tkachuk,” dunn replied, not meaning to sound so bitter. “he’s her best friend; they never get to see eachother,” he recovered, not wanting to give the impression that he was upset about it. he had no issue with you having friends that were on other teams, especially since you had been friends with matthew far longer than you had been dating him.

“sharing trade secrets about our practice?” tye joked innocently, and vince punched his arm.

“you know she wouldn’t. and besides, i don’t think she was really paying attention anyway,” he laughed. he pulled his phone out of his bag, checking to see if you had messaged him, trying not to be too disappointed when he saw no notifications on the screen.

•

you and matthew were walking around seattle, not straying too far from the arena, when your phone went off.

you smiled at the message, and didn’t notice matthew had stopped in front of you until you ran straight into his chest.

“loverboy wondering where you are?” he teased innocently.

“he’s just checking in. their practice just ended.”

“any-“

“don’t even ask. i am sworn to secrecy,” you scolded, with a finger pressed to his lips to quiet him. he smirked, raising his hands in surrender.

“i see how it is. does that mean you’re cheering for him tonight over me?” he asked playfully.

“i’m cheering for both of you. i don’t want either of you lose,” you admitted, and matthew threw an arm around your shoulder.

“i know. and i’m sorry they have to lose but-“

“hey!” you laughed. “don’t be an ass.”

“sorry,” he smiled. “and i promise to try not to hit him too hard in to the boards-“

“hey!” you repeated, but you knew that he was only messing with you.

“okay okay i’m done.”

•

you had gone home to vince’s apartment once matthew had to go to the panthers practice, giving you some time to get ready before the game. you and the birthday-boy would be going out straight after the game, so you had to get a little fancier than you usually did for a game, knowing you wouldn’t have time to do your makeup or anything.

putting on an outfit appropriate for clubbing and doing your hair and makeup took a little longer than usual, and soon it was time to head down to the arena with vince. he walked out of your shared bedroom dressed in his suit for the evening, a dark purple colour with a subtle blue plaid pattern. no matter how many times you saw him get dressed up, it still made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“you really do look great in a suit,” you smiled, smoothing out his blue tie and brushing that one curl that never seemed to stay put off his forehead. he leaned down to kiss your lips softly.

“you look amazing. although i have a weird feeling this isn’t all for me..” he said hesitantly, his hands landing softly on your waist.

“i mean of course it’s for you,” you paused, kissing the side of his neck softly. “but i do have plans after the game with matthew,” you admitted, feeling guilty even though you knew he wouldn’t mind.

“i had a feeling,” vince laughed, but kissed your forehead. “you are still cheering for us during the game though, right?” he smiled.

“yes, but he’s gonna be a bummer to hang out with if they lose, so think of me if that happens,” you laughed as he kissed you again, before grabbing your bag for you and getting the door. you weren’t sure how it was time to go already, but you were only getting more nervous standing around waiting, so you were happy to get going, following close behind vince as he left the apartment.

•

you and vince arrived at the arena, but split off since he had a few things to do before the game; usual player stuff. you were in the back when the panthers arrived, and while most of them didn’t pay you any mind, a certain player with golden curls sent you a wink as he walked by and into the visitors locker room. you decided that while yes, you were hoping that seattle won the game (florida could afford the loss more than the kraken could right now), you would still be an encouraging friend, texting matthew a quick ‘good luck 🥰’.

you put your phone away, and took a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves. you and a few of the other players girlfriends went to your seats, and you tapped your fingers on your knee, drowning out the conversation going on around you. a hand in your shoulder snapped you out of your trance, and you turned to look at valerie, who was engaged to jared, one of the forwards for seattle.

“you okay?” she asked, and you smiled.

“yeah - just a little nervous if i’m being honest.”

“what’s going on?”

“my best friend plays for florida, so i’m just a little upset that one of the teams had to lose,” you laughed, and val giggled.

“aww. it’s okay honey. that’s the game; someone wins and someone loses - and i’m sure both vince and your friend know that.”

“you’re right,” you sighed, her words making you feel better. “thanks val.”

“no problem. are you and vince going out after the game? you’re all fancy today.”

“no, actually i have plans with matthew - my friend.”

“tkachuk?”

“yeah.”

“so you have a bit of a type, huh? tall, curly hair, a little dangerous…” she teased.

“shush.”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding,” she bumped her shoulder against yours softly. “i won’t tell anyone if you secretly cheer for florida,” she whispered in your ear.

“i still want us to win,” you took a sip from your drink. “i just don’t want the other team to lose.” you both laughed at the redundant statement, and the players came out into the ice to skate around before the game began.

“what’s tkachuk’s number again? i want to keep an eye on him for you,” val asked.

“19,” you smiled. “i’m sure he’ll make his presence known.” as if on queue, you saw matt in the starting lineup out on the ice, and he nodded his head towards you, and you smiled.

“yeah, you definitely have a type.”

•

the first period went by without too much excitement, besides vince getting a penalty for a high stick. while you would never admit it to him, you always thought he looked hot sitting in the penalty box. florida got a few more power plays in the second period, but yamamoto was still able to score the only goal so far, giving seattle a 1-0 lead. you noticed vince and matt give eachother a couple shoves as play was whistles down for a save from seattles goalie, daccord.

bellemare scored the second goal for seattle, giving us an even bigger lead, and while i was happy for the kraken, my mood fell as my eyes landed on matty. he was sitting on the panthers bench, chewing on his mouthguard instead of wearing it properly, as always. on his next shift he got a good shot, but it was deflected, and the start of a fight broke out between vince and one of the other panthers, but it was quickly broken up.

wennberg intercepted a pass and got a breakaway to score seattles third goal, and your gaze went to the florida bench again. as your eyes found matthew, you realized he was already looking at you. you mouthed a sincere “i’m sorry” at your best friend, and you knew he understood it when he tilted his head sideways with a shrug; but you could tell he was frustrated.

florida pulled their goalie with five minutes left in the game, and tolvanen scored an empty netter to secure the victory early. the girls were cheering next to you and you smiled as they announced that vince got an assist on the goal, adding to his already impressive tally of points on the season so far. the time dwindled down to nothing, confirming the win for seattle and in turn earning daccord his first nhl shutout.

the fans cheered as the kraken skated around celebrating, and the panthers headed back to the locker room.

•

you were leaning up against the wall talking with some of the teams girlfriends when you felt arms wrap around your midsection from behind, and a soft kiss being placed on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. you giggled as vince’s stubble tickled your skin, and you turned around and kissed him on the lips.

“hey,” you smiled, admiring the sparkle that always appeared in his eyes when the kraken won.

“hey yourself,” he smiled, kissing you again, before his eyes traveled up and down your body, taking in every inch of your outfit. “you’re sure you’re not gonna hang with us? we’re going to kartye’s place, it’s gonna be a good time….” he trailed off, his fingers drumming softly against your hips.

“i’m sad i’m missing it, but i promised matthew; it was his birthday yesterday and i haven’t seen him in forever,” you pouted, and vince nodded.

“i get it, don’t worry. i just thought i’d ask.”

“you could come with us?” you offered, and he smiled, but shook his head.

“i don’t wanna third wheel,” he teased. “go have fun. i get you all the time, he can have you for one night.”

i raised an eyebrow, and vince seemed to realize the error in his wording.

“not like that,” he scolded, a light blush on his face, and you laughed.

“i’m kidding. you’re the only one who gets me in that way.”

“good,” vince said, his confidence returning as he kissed you deeply, before the rest of the team started exiting the locker room.

“hey, you coming out with us?” yamamoto asked, and you shook your head, but vince answered for you.

“she’s got a date with the enemy,” he replied, and you shot him a glare for throwing you under the bus, but knew the team wouldn’t care. they hazed you for a minute, but you laughed it off before they stole vince from you, him calling out for you to text him if anything happened. you waved to the guys and said goodnight to the girls before heading towards the visitors locker room to find matthew.

the panthers were still inside when you got there, so you sat on a bench in the hallway while you waited. about 10 minutes went by before anyone exited the room, and finally a defeated looking tkachuk walked out of the door. he perked up slightly when he saw you, and you stood up, gasping slightly as he lifted you up in the air. to not fall, you wrapped you arms and legs around him like a koala bear, laughing as he spun around.

“stop you’re gonna drop me!”

“i would never,” he replied, but set you down on your feet anyway. “you ready to go?” he asked, and you looked at the white button up shirt he had on with some dark jeans. his hair was still slightly damp from his post-game shower, and he smelled like his usual cologne.

“yeah, what the plan?”

“there’s gotta be a club around here somewhere right?” he asked, and you nodded, remembering the handful of times you had gone out with the team to celebrate after a game.

“yeah, i know a place.”

“well what are we waiting for?” he smiled.

•

a few hours and many drinks later, you found yourself being pulled onto the dance floor by matthew, some throwback hip hop song blaring through the speakers of the club. his hands were on your hips as you danced to the music, your back to his chest as your bodies got closer together. the club lighting was low except for the flashing stove lights, casting different colours across the people in the room.

“what are you thinking about?” matthew asked, his breath fanning across your ear as he leaned closer so you could hear him over the music, and you realized you must have zoned out.

“i’m sorry you guys lost the game.”

he laughed, using his grip on your waist to turn you to face him, his hands never leaving your body.

“it’s fine,” he shook his head, but his eyes didn’t meet yours, so you could tell he wasn’t too happy about it.

“sorry, i shouldn’t have brought it up. kinda ruined the mood.” his gaze found yours now, the bright blue of his eyes slightly hazy from the alcohol.

“and what mood was that?” he smirked.

“we’re celebrating your birthday, matty,” you smiled, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face against his collarbone. you felt another laugh rumble in his chest, as his arms encircled you, and you breathed in the way he smelled; expensive. you looked up at him, and found him already looking at you, his eyes half closed, either from intoxication or tiredness. without thinking, you placed a soft peck on his lips, and then both of your froze. his eyes were wide now, and you stuttered incoherently.

“i didn’t mean to do that,” you finally said.

“you didn’t?”

“no,” you confirmed.

“okay,” he laughed, and you hit his bicep softly.

“it’s not funny matty, i fucked up,” you said seriously, and he cleared his throat.

“okay, just breathe,” he said as you began to panic. “let’s get some fresh air okay?” he led you outside, the cool december air helping to sober you up quickly. there was no one stood outside the club except a couple people smoking a little ways down the sidewalk. you leaned against the side of the building as you continued to freak out. you had to tell vince- and now, before some paparazzi posted a photo of it and he found out some other way.

you pulled out your phone, and matthews eyes widened again as his hand gently wrapped around yours.

“what are you doing?”

“i have to tell him,” you mumbled.

“tell who what-“

“tell my boyfriend that i just cheated on him, matthew. oh god-“ you cried, tears welling in your eyes.

“are you sure you should call him right now? you’re hyperventilating.”

“he needs to know. and he needs to hear from me first before he finds out from someone else,” you insisted, somehow managing to calm for breathing down, though your heart remained pounding against your ribcage.

“okay. you’re right,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not like it meant anything, right? it was a stupid drunken kiss.”

“yes. i love you, but not like that, dude.” you both laughed, and you were glad to be on the same page about it. matty would always be your best friend, and there had never been anything romantic between the two of you.

“agreed,” he smiled. “i’ll give you some privacy, but i’m not leaving you out here alone. i’ll be over there if you need me,” he said, and walked down the side of the building, keeping you in his line of sight under safe watch. you took a shaky breath, and scrolled through your phone to vince’s contact, and pressed the call button.

“hello?” he answered, and you could hear loud music in the background.

“vince - it’s me. can you hear me?” you replied, and you heard the sound of a door and the music getting quieter, like he had gone into another room.

“hey, babe. yeah i can hear you now. is everything okay?” he asked, a concerned tone in his voice.

“yes - well no- but yes, i’m fine. i need to tell you something.”

“what is it?” he asked.

“i accidentally kissed matthew,” you admitted, closing your eyes like it would stop you from hearing his reaction. “we got really drunk and it just happened and it was one tiny little kiss and i’m so sorry,” you blabbered, before listening to a long painful silence on the other side of the phone.

“it didn’t mean anything? it was just a mistake?” he asked calmly, and you were a little shocked. you hadn’t exactly expected him to yell at you, but you thought he would at least sound… angrier.

“god no - of course it didn’t. i love you so much and i’m so sorry.”

“does he know it didn’t mean anything?” he asked, the expected anger a little more present in his voice this time.

“yes, vince. we’re just friends; i promise,” you insisted, and you heard him sigh on the other end.

“okay. i mean i’m not happy about it but if it didn’t mean anything i i’ll get over it. i’ll kiss one of the guys and we’ll call it even, okay?” he teased, and you laughed, slightly in relief but also in disbelief.

“have you been drinking?” you teased, and he gave a genuine laugh.

“maybe a little. but seriously - if it was just an accident i forgive you. are you guys staying out for a bit? do you need me to call you a cab or anything?” he asked, and you smiled at how much of a sweetheart he was.

“i think we’ve both had enough partying for one night. i’ll get a cab home, okay? are you and guys staying out much longer?” you replied.

“okay, text me when you’ve made it home. i think we’re almost calling it a night, so i’ll be there soon.”

“okay. i love you.”

“i love you too.” he said, and the call ended. matthew saw you put your phone away, and walked back over to you.

“is he coming here to kill me?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, wondering how he could joke at a time like this.

“no - i have the best boyfriend in the world and he said everything is fine since it was just a drunken mistake.” speaking of vince your phone went off in your hand and you looked at the screen to see a text with a picture of larsson and yamamoto kissing him on either cheek, a big goofy smile on his face. below it was a text that just said “now we’re even 🩵” and you shook your head, smiling as you showed matt.

“i don’t know him too well but he seems like a good guy.”

“he is,” you smiled. “i’m gonna call it a night, and you probably should to, considering i’m sure you guys have to be in the road pretty early tomorrow.”

“yeah you’re right,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “i’ll see you during the holiday break, right?” he asked. the teams always got a few days off at christmas and you usually spent at least one of them together. that meant it would o it be a few weeks before you got to see each other again.

“of course,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, suddenly sad to be saying goodbye so soon.

“okay,” he smiled, returning the hug as your cab pulled up. “tell dunn i’m sorry. and congrats on the win.”

“i will. text me in the morning?” he nodded in response, and pulled out his phone to call a cab of his own. you sighed as the car pulled away, and you shut your eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted.

•

you were home long enough to shower and get into your pyjamas, which was just one of vince’s t-shirts and some shorts, before you heard his keys in the door. you ran over to him and he wrapped you in his arms immediately, his familiar scent filling your nose as you buried your face in his chest.

“i’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“i know. i forgive you,” he laughed softly. “i am a little sad i don’t get to take that outfit off you, but i might like this one even more.”

you smiled, placing soft kisses up his neck until your lips connected. he walked you backwards to the bedroom and let your fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. once he was down to his boxers, you both crawled into bed, your head on his chest as his fingers traced little patterns on your thigh.

“i love you,” you mumbled, very sleepy after a long day.

“i love you too.”

“i love you more than anyone else on earth,” you clarified, and it was the truth. vince smiled, though you couldn’t see it, and kissed the top of your head.

“i know. goodnight baby,” he said softly, and you were out before you could say anything back. while he wasn’t exactly happy about what had happened, he felt better knowing that at the end of the day, it was his arms that you were falling asleep in.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[deltaharrington]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY PT. 1 [SEASON 3 SPOILERS]

PAIRING: JJ Maybank x Female!Kook!Reader

WARNINGS: SEASON 3 SPOILERS AHEAD, doubt, social class degradation.

SUMMARY: JJ is in love with the reader but she’s just like Sarah; a Kook out of her element.

When you arrived back in the OBX with the Pogues, you weren’t expecting things to go back to normal.

For starters, your parents had moved back upstate to the main house, leaving the beach house they owned empty. You were heartbroken, but too angry at them to even call and tell them you were alright.

You split from the group with Sarah, needing to go home to get some fresh clothes. Halfway there you were reminded that a certain blonde didn’t have anyone to go home to either.

JJ Maybank.

At that thought, you made your way back to the cut and to JJ’s house, where he was sitting by his bike.

“Come stay at my house” You spoke and he looked shocked at bow blunt you were with him.

You and JJ met through Sarah and became almost instant friends. JJ was a bit wary of you at first due to your Kook status, but after a while, he warmed up.

JJ had always been jealous of how carefree you seemed. Even though you had a family and a future, you didn’t care to help the Pogues.

That made him angry sometimes.

A few times he had expressed his anger, either lashing out and yelling at you, or releasing his anger on inanimate objects. JJ should have scared you off.

But he didn’t.

You understood his pain. You understood his jealousy. You understood him. More than he believed to be true.

“What? Y/n, I’m okay here I don’t need-“ He started to protest but you cut him off, taking a step closer to him.

“We both don’t have anyone right now…please J” You said and JJ felt his heart tug. Your parents had left you?

JJ nodded his head and moved to get on his bike, leaving you a bit confused. He turned back to look at you with a smirk on his face.

“Get on, pretty girl” He said “You didn’t think we’d walk did you?” He added and you laughed, hopping on the back of the bike, wrapping your arms around his lower torso.

“To Figure 8 we go” JJ said and revved the bike up, on his way to your house.

How an argument started between you both was a mystery to you. As soon as you walked in, JJ’s jealousy of the Kook lifestyle overrode his thoughts and he blurted out things he shouldn’t have.

At that, you fought back.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” You said to the blonde, who was facing you with anger and hurt in his eyes.

“I’m the asshole? Says the goddamn Kook!” JJ countered and hurt flashed in your eyes, making him regret even calling you a Kook.

“I didn’t choose this, JJ.” you said calmly and he nodded his head apologetically.

“I didn’t mean that…m’sorry.” JJ said and you sighed, nodding understandingly.

“You can shower here, do whatever you want” You said, and made your way towards your room. You didn’t realize JJ had followed you.

You peeled your shirt off your back as soon as you got into the bathroom, revealing cuts and bruises on your back. You were about to untie your bikini when a soft hand touched your shoulder.

You jumped with a gasp as JJ moved to look at your wounds.

“Did Singh’s men do this?” He asked and you nodded your head.

“When we ran before we caught two of them, one knocked me down and he just kept hitting me over and over and over…” You trailed off and JJ looked hurt himself.

“Y/n..” JJ said as tear welled in your eyes. He held his arms open and you fell into his embrace, letting out the emotions you were feeling.

It felt good to have someone there. Especially JJ.

“Thank you, JayJ” You said and he hummed in response, looking down at you, already looking at him.

You both leaned in at the same time, emotions overwhelming you. JJ ghosted his lips over yours before he finally kissed you.

You weren’t expecting him to actually give in, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer as your lips moved in sync.

Before anything more could happen, JJ pulled away, a frown on his face. This confused you and you were about to say something when he cut you off.

“We can’t” He started “What are we doing?” JJ finished and you were hurt, but you didn’t show it.

“Yeah- I’m sorry” You whispered and he nodded, apologizing as well.

“I need to shower, so…I’ll see you in a bit?” You said and he nodded his head, leaving you alone in your bathroom.

What the hell just happened?

“JJ?” You questioned after finally getting yourself ready. You wore a bikini top and some shorts, expecting to go out eventually.

The blonde looked up from his spot on your couch. You were perched at the top of your staircase.

He looked good.

He wore a green shirt and a blue hat with white accents.

“Want to go to the Chateau?” You asked the blonde and he nodded his head, moving to grab all his stuff.

“J, you can stay here.” You said to him and he shook his head “Please, I don’t want to be alone”

JJ looked like he was debating with himself before he finally nodded, putting his stuff back.

“Let’s go see the others” You said and began to walk towards the door.

JJ followed you like a lost puppy, not knowing where things stood between you two.

“Fuck” He said to himself, shaking his head.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[thenasoneshots]

Lucifer/Alastor Oneshot - A Tale of Two Dads

Requested?: No

Prompt: None

Type of oneshot: Fluff/Angst

Reader's Relations: Alastor’s ex-girlfriend

Warnings: Spoilers for eps 7-8 of season 1! This was written the say those two came out

Other notes: Don’t ask how I thought of this…Somehow, my brain fixated on these two, and well oneshots is what happens when my brain gets fixated on characters.

-------------------------------

“You absolute bastard, Alastor!” I shouted once he’d shown up at Charlie’s hotel, seven years after leaving, “You leave for seven years and all you have to say is ‘hi’?! Someone hold me back before I fuck his face up!”

“Hello, My Dear, it’s good to see you too.”

“Fuck you,” I retorted, making eye contact with him, in an easy feat due to the fact I was the same height as him. He just smirked at me, using his microphone to lift my chin, an unnecessary thing due to the fact I was already looking at him, “Now now, that’s not the right way to talk to me, is it, My Dear?” I didn’t respond, instead I just growled and tried to punch him continuously, him dodging every blow I attempted to make.

“You should know that’s not going to work, (Y/n).”

“Fuck. Off. Before. I. Kill. You. Myself. Bastard. I’ve had to deal with a child that you-”

“Mama? What’s going on?”

My head immediately shot around to see Alianna standing at the bottom of the stairs, the seven-year-old rubbing her eyes as if she’d just been woken up. I gave Alastor another glare before rushing over, “It’s okay, Sweetie. Nothing you need to worry about,” I spoke, ruffling her red hair.

“You always say that!”

“I say that because most of the time, you don’t need to worry ab-”

Alianna cut me off, asking the question I had wished she would never have to ask, “Is he my Papa?”

If I’d been drinking something, I would definitely have spat it out in shock, “Now now, Ali, that’s something you don’t need to worry about you. You can learn more about your father when you are older.”

She pouted for a few seconds before, “Okay, I’m older!”

I chuckled, “I meant in a few years, now back to bed with you.”

Alianna sighed and nodded, running off back upstairs towards our room in the hotel. I let out a sigh of relief and stood up, turning around, only to have Alastor directly in my face, “For fuck sake, stop doing that, you bastard,” I shouted, punching him in the arm.

“Why should I stop when I get-”

“Were you listening to our conversation?”

“It was kind of hard not to, (Y/n)... I think you owe some people an explanation, and I’d be happy to loosen up your strings a bit if you know what I mean,” I heard Angel’s voice saying before I saw one of his arms dangling in front of my face and, what I guessed was another, on my head.

I rolled my eyes, “How many times, Angel? I’m not interested in you. Stop trying,” I growled, shoving him off me, “But, I guess you’re right about the explanation. This Radio Demon Bastard here,” I paused and pointed over in Alastor’s direction, “Is Alianna’s father. She doesn’t know, so please keep it quiet. I’m begging you.”

“You can always beg more, (Y/n). If you catch me drift…”

“Angel, shut up for once. Not the time for your sexual fantasies.”

------------------------------

“Alianna. No. Get back here right now!” I shouted, running up and pulling her off Lucifer gently, “I am so sorry, Sir. She got out of my sight. I apologise again.”

“It’s alright. She’s cute anyway. Much like her mother.”

I felt my face turn red as I looked away, but before I could say anything, Alastor was in front of me, glaring down at the Short King of Hell, “She’s mine. Get away.”

“Oh really?” Lucifer questioned, before walking around the Radio Demon and up to me, taking my hand in his, “Because there’s nothing on her hand to show she belongs to anyone,” he finished, bringing my hand up with his and kissing it, “But if she really is ‘yours’, she has had ample opportunity to stop my advances, and isn’t so…”

“I do not belong to anyone. You,” I turned and glared at Alastor, “May be Alianna’s father, but it doesn’t mean that I am ‘yours’. As a matter of fact, you lost all rights to even seeing her when you left, so you can just go away and leave me alone!” I shouted.

------------------------

A few days later, I found a(n) (F/c) rubber duck sitting on my bed, along with a note. “I wasn’t messing around when I said you were cute, I meant it. Call me? L.” there was a phone number at the bottom and I giggled. I knew it was probably wrong as he was Charlie’s dad, who was my best friend… But he’d made an impression on me. So I added the number to my phone under the nickname ‘Short King’, and sent a message, “I got your note. Thanks for the duck. How’d you know (F/c) is my favourite colour?”

--------------------------

I groaned in pain as I lay on the ruins of the hotel, after having come face to face with one of the angels, blood seeping from my side. It was just as I was losing consciousness, that I saw a flash of white in front of me, fighting off the angel.

LUCIFER’S POV

Once the angels had retreated, I turned back to (Y/n) to see her unconscious, with blood surrounding her. Immediately, I retracted my wings and knelt beside her, realising she’s been severely wounded, “(Y/n)? Please wake up. You have to. (Y/n), please. I- love you.”

“Dad?”

I looked up to see Charlie standing there, a saddened smile on her face, “You can’t bring her back.”

“Is there nothing?! No one can bring her back?” I asked, despair wreaking through my voice, as I felt tears cascading down my cheeks.

“I’ve got one idea… but it’s a long shot, so don’t get your hopes up,” Charlie replied, running off. She came back a few minutes later, dragging a girl behind her, who seemed to be complaining, “Charlie! I told you, I can heal, but I can’t combat the second death!”

“Just try. For me? Please?”

“I’m telling you, this isn’t going to work if she’s dead, Charlie!”

“Try though? Please, Brianna?”

“Fine, I’ll try, but no one get their hopes up,” the brunette replied as Charlie pulled her over. I noticed Brianna take a deep breath before kneeling on (Y/n)’s other side, cracking her knuckles, “I’ll say it again if she’s truly dead, then this isn’t going to work, but I’m going to need help,” she paused and turned her attention towards me, “May I ask for your help, Sir? This will only work if I have the help of someone she loves.”

“M-me? I-Isn’t there someone else that she loves? Like her daughter?”

The brown-haired demon just chuckled in response, “I mean it’s got to be romantic love, not platonic love.”

“Oh... Wait a minute, do you still want me to help? As much as I hate to say this, shouldn’t you be getting that Radio Demon to help? In the sense that he’s the father of her daughter, therefore she must love him.”

“As a matter of fact. I know she hates me. She lit-”

“Alastor’s right, Dad. You may not have realised, but that duck you gave her has pride of place in her room. Every day she makes a point of dusting it, and no one’s allowed near it. I’m surprised it’s not in a locked box that only she has access to. She wouldn’t have kept it if you didn’t mean anything to her. Plus you deserve to be happy as well,” Charlie spoke, placing a hand on my shoulder and kneeling beside me, “Trust me. You’re the one we need to bring (Y/n) back.”

“Well? Are you going to do this or not? We don’t have much time left.”

With a final boost of confidence from Charlie, I nodded, turning to Brianna, “Okay.”

She smiled, “Okay. In that case, I need you to place both your hands above where her heart is and keep your eyes closed. Can you do that?” I nodded, doing as she asked me, remembering to close my eyes.

YOUR POV

I woke up with a start, and I lifted my head in shock, but before I could say anything, I’d been wrapped in a hug, “(Y/n)!”

“O-oh.. hello, Mr Lucifer. I-It’s good to see you too,” I replied as he continued to squeeze the living Hell out of me, “C-can you let me go though? Personal space.”

“Sorry! I’m just glad you’re okay,” he started, letting me go as his face turned the same colour as his waistcoat, but before I could mention it, Charlie had spoken up, “See, Dad? Told you it was you that she loved.”

“CHARLIE!” I all but screamed, “HOW IN THE ACTUAL HELL DID YOU KNOW THAT?! You better start running. I don’t care if you’re the Princess of Hell, telling someone that your friend has a crush on them is not funny!” I continued, standing up and starting to chase after her, but before I could get too far I felt a gloved hand wrap around my wrist and pull me backwards, spinning me around, before I felt pressure on my lips. It took me a second to process, but once I did I wrapped my arms around the King of Hell’s neck and kissed him back.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/n).”

I grinned widely, “Still embarrassing that it took your daughter to get us together though.”

“I have something for you, (Y/n)...”

“Let me guess… is it another rubber duck?” I asked, my voice laden with sarcasm. Lucifer’s face turned red as he looked at me a shocked expression on his face before out of thin air, a small box appeared. Lucifer took it in his hands before handing it to me, “I-I’ve been working on them since I left you the first one… I hope you like them.” I smiled and took the lid off, my eyes widening with glee at the sight of the small family of ducks. Two adults, one a light yellow, the other a (H/c) colour with lashes painted around the eyes, with two baby ducks, one the same colour yellow as the adult, also with eyelashes, and the other a red colour. I giggled at the meaning behind the colours, the adult ducks supposed to represent me and Lucifer, and the two baby ones representing Charlie and Alianna, and hugged the blonde male in front of me, “I love them, thank you. I know exactly where these are going,” I spoke, pecking Lucifer on the cheek after leaning down to do so, whispering in his ear, “Short King.”

“I am not that short!”

“Hmmm. Compared to me, you are,” I smirked, “Now, who wants to rebuild this hotel?”

—------------------------------END OF ONESHOT

The ending was not how I imagined it, but at least it didn’t go over 2000 words… This was originally supposed to have more Alastor x Reader in too, but it didn’t fit with the plot I was going with.

[buckets-and-trees]

The Pool Party Op

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader, Sharon Carter Word Count: 1.2k  Summary: Post TFATWS. The Power Broker hasn't made any major plays, but finding out who they are is still a priority. Bucky has been working on and off with Sharon to track them down as there are potential leads. This mission has them attending a luxury pool party in The Maldives.

Content Warnings: sexual situations (kissing, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration), strong language

Logistical Notes: Filling my twelfth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - Y5 "Pool Party" - and Hot Bucky Summer Week 8 - "How did you meet?" undercover mission, high stakes op.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“You’re sure that–“

“Yes, I’m sure, Bucky,” Sharon cut him off over the comms. “I’ve told you a hundred times. Everyone here lives in the grey area and after everything you were technically responsible for leading with the Thunderbolts team, the status of you as the reformed and squeaky-clean good boy is not a widely held belief anymore.”

“I know you managed to get me on the Power Broker’s guest list, but I still think this is too easy,” Bucky murmured loud enough for Sharon to hear.

“Tell me when you haven’t been able to trust me.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“And if things go sideways and you have to go full Winter Soldier mode on someone, all the better for convincing them you’re back in the Big Bad Business.”

“It just feels weird to know I’ll be strutting around with the arm on full display.”

“So that’s the real problem. It’s a pool party. People will look at your arm, but then your abs are going to steal the show.”

Bucky could feel the immediate flush of heat rushing up his neck, over his ears, and cheeks.

“I’ll get you in. The plan will work. Just be ready to improvise – I only told you half the plan because I knew you would argue with me over the rest of it. I’m going radio silent now so you can’t bitch at me and because that was already part of the plan anyway. Make good choices, Buck. I’ll check in with you in twenty and see you at the extraction point in forty-five.”

Bucky closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a few deep breaths. This was, in fact, not the first time Sharon had gone rogue on a mission, but he did trust the track record they had together. He would never tell her a part of him reveled in the challenge that went with working blind or having to improvise. She didn’t need that kind of encouragement.

And he trusted her, which was more than he could say for most of the people he got assigned to work with or who assigned him to missions these days.

Bucky was always wary of putting operatives who were basically civilians into the field during missions, but he understood that sometimes the objective required it to ensure they achieved their objective.

Sharon had told him that much – that he would be working with a desk agent and providing cover for the mission in addition to actual security and extraction if it came to it. She said she would be talking to his assignment when he arrived, they would make eye contact, and then Sharon would move out so Bucky could move in.

They still didn’t have credible leads on the identity of the Power Broker, but merely being at the party, Sharon was going to mingle and grab facial scans for as many people as she could with the photo-contacts she’d been issued while Bucky assisted with the other key objective.

The Power Broker’s communications were behind an impenetrable wall that the team at the CIA had been unable to hack for over a year, so when they got a tip the Power Broker was hosting a glamorous end of season pool party at their luxury vacation home – or in this case, summer fortress. The play was to bring one of the CIA’s top hackers to a party Sharon was tapping into some of her old Madripoor experience to get them on the list for, and access and bleed whatever information they could from inside the system.

That hacker was you.

He sighed when he saw it was going to be a standard meet-cute play, sneak into the house to find someplace more private, and clearly that place would be the home office. He excused himself from the present company he’d been an idle party to conversation with and moved to the steps out of the pool, grabbed a towel from the rack, and wrapped it around his waist, then grabbed two drinks off a tray one of the servers was circulating around the crowd and approached you.

The plan was good. He didn’t like it at first, but he was sold on it now.

His lips on your neck, his right hand cupping your mound and his left hand palming the delightful weight of your breast in his left hand, grinding his hips against your ass, this plan was perfect.

The soft, broken whimpers escaping your mouth were satisfying, indulging a hunger he didn’t know he’d been suppressing until it was finally unleashed in this moment. Now he didn’t want to stop.

It seemed like you didn’t want him to stop either. 

The person who had come to check on the room and “caught” them was long gone, wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, and if they did they seemed too mortified to do more than check for noises and maybe knock on the door, but Bucky could tell they wouldn’t open the door again, so… he could stop, but there seemed no reason not to carry on.

He pressed hot kisses along the column of your throat from the base up to just below your ear, then paused to ask, “This okay?”

“Yes, yes,” you managed.

“You want–“

“More,” you moaned, putting your left hand over his to encourage him to continue his ministrations there, and clutched at his bicep with the other.

He didn’t need more encouragement than that. Bucky sunk two fingers into your slick cunt, and you rocked up against him. He smiled and licked the shell of your ear.

“Bucky…”

Your tone seemed almost hesitant, so he slowed for a moment. “What is it?”

“I mean more, Bucky,” you said.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you pushed back roughly against his hard cock. “You can have it, doll.”

Your hands reached back to tug his swim trunks down. He took over, pushing them down his thighs, and you hooked your own fingers into your swim bottoms to drag them down, and you leaned forward, resting your forearms against the desk, presenting your pretty pussy for him.

Fuck.

Okay.

He lined up the head of his cock with your slit, then pushed in and gripped your hips. The first full thrust he took slowly, sinking in balls deep. You were such a shy thing, and half of the fun once he’d discovered that had been flustering you, standing too close – because he needed to in order to keep the cover intact, the intentional but not strictly necessary touches, and now to have you decidedly not shy any longer as he pumped in and out of you.

He could do more missions like this.

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[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Ice skating

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Beautiful Things - Benson Boone

Keegan Russ x Reader

Synopsis: Keegan isn’t fond of ice skating. But he’d do anything to see you smile.

Word count: 908

Masterlist

“I can't believe I agreed to this…” Keegan grumbles out as you walk through the entrance of the ice skating rink. You look at him giddily, “come on, Keegs! It’ll be fun.” Keegan lowers his gaze to the floor as you walk up to the ticket booth. “The only fun thing will be watching you fall on your ass.” He quips. You playfully roll your eyes. “I get it. You don’t like skating. But it’s the winter season, we can’t just not go skating.” He’s about to retort before you interrupt him. “Two tickets please.” You tell the receptionist. She nods and hands you two tickets, “that’ll be 8 dollars. Rental skates are up ahead.” She informs you. Keegan swipes his card before you even get to take your card out of your wallet. She smiles at you and wishes you a good time. You move to the rental skates. “You didn’t have to do that, Keegan.” You say. He scoffs, “darling. You won’t have to worry about paying when I’m around. You should know this by now.” You smile, “it doesn’t hurt to try.” You mutter under your breath. He hears it and glances at you but says nothing.

You make it to the rental skates booth. You ask for two skates for both your and his sizes. The man running the booth asks for an ID card from one of you. You hand him yours. He takes it from you and checks it briefly before disappearing in the back. A few minutes pass before he finally emerges and hands you two pairs of skates. “That’ll be 6 dollars.” Keegan immediately pays, not giving you a chance. You shake your head. He grabs both of the skates and thanks the man. You walk side by side to the indoor skating rink. You spot an empty bench where you can put your skates on. You sit down and put on your skates. Keegan makes quick work of it. When he’s done you’re still struggling with the laces. He sighs and crouches down to your skates. He gently moves your hands away and does it quickly. He makes sure it’s tight before patting your ankle gently. “There, all done.” He says softly. You thank him and drag him over to the ice. The scowl on his face gets bigger the closer you bring him to the ice.

“Maybe I can just sit at the sides for now, darling.” He says. You roll your eyes and smile. “You’re getting on the ice whether you like it or not.” He glares at you playfully. You get on the ice albeit a bit wobbly. He gets on like there’s no difference between the ice and the hard floor. Eventually, you get the hang of it and skate around like normal. Keegan skates next to or behind you very casually, with his hands in his pockets. A couple of minutes pass by. You notice that he doesn’t stumble once. You come to a stop at the wall. He stops beside you. He smirks, “tired already?” You scoff, “nope. But I thought you hated skating. How come you’re so good?” He laughs at that. “Just because I hate it, it doesn’t mean I can’t be good at it.” He flicks your forehead gently. You look at him incredulously, “you learned it somehow.” He rolls his eyes, “my family used to go a lot when I was younger. That’s how I learned.” You shake your head, “so you do enjoy it.” He chuckles, “I never said that.” You skate away, leaving him behind. You turn your head to him, “whatever you say, Russ!” You call out to him. He laughs and shakes his head. “Unbelievable.” He mumbles before skating towards you. He quickly catches up to you. You try going faster but he’s too fast. Eventually, he wraps his arms around your waist and spins you around. You shriek in surprise and clutch onto him tightly. Not wanting to fall. He chuckles as he holds onto you tightly. He slows down and puts you down gently.

He laughs as you slap his chest lightly. “You scared the shit out of me.” You say with feigned annoyance. He smirks, “come on, don’t you trust me, sweetheart? I wouldn’t drop you.” You scowl at him before smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.” He shakes his head before planting a chaste kiss on your lips. “I am a lucky man.” He says softly. He chuckles and pinches your cheeks gently. “Are your cheeks turning red because of me or of the cold?” He teases you. You swat his hands away, “the cold.” You say confidently. It’s clear to both of you that you’re lying. It's definitely because of him. He throws his head back and laughs. He looks you in the eyes. His eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Right right. Because of the cold, sure.” He shakes his head, “god you’re cute.” He shifts backward a little bit and holds out a hand. “Come on. You wanted to skate right? Let’s skate.” He says smiling. You grin and take his hand. You both skate around the rink with your hands intertwined.

The way your eyes are crinkling with happiness makes his heart swell with love for you. If he has to skate more often to give you such happiness he would in a heartbeat. Ice skating with you isn’t too bad either. He’d gladly take you ice skating again if you ask.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Self-Aware! BSD. Some bits about the house

Just wanted to write down some ideas about House layout. I have few ideas about it.

Pretty short, because I wasn't thinking too much about it.

The final layout is up to you.

What happened in the Library

Basement.

- Storage room (food and some things, that right now not needed. Example: Christmas/Halloween decorations)

- Ayatsuji's doll room (Ayatsuji's old collection were transported in real world with him, but he intends to make his collection bigger. Cute fact, even if you gift him a doll for little kids from cheap store, he, after making some comments, still will make it a part of his collection)

- Shibusawa's collection (all abilities, that Shibusawa has collected, were transported to this world. Very dangerous room, because, not even Shibusawa can tell, what abilities he has down here. Dazai, Shibusawa and Chief Taneda are currently working on making a full list of abilities in collection. Still, the room is very beautiful).

- Interrogation room/Operation room (room, where BSD Gang can drag people, that wronged you. For the most part it isn't used and used as Yosano's operation room. In Part I of We will protect you Kunikida, Yosano, Ranpo and Dazai were interrogating Robber in this room)

- Bram's room. Old-fashioned. Bram sleeps in the coffin, but he has a bed here, in case you want to spend the night here and cuddle.

- Lovecraft's room. There is a small pool in the room. Small, but quite deep. Some shelves. Very comfortable bed. Floor that is covered in blankets and pillows. Lovecraft sleeps either in the pool underwater, on the bed, or in a pillow/blanket fort. Each time you decide to cuddle with him, you became a mix between plush toy for cuddling/pillow.

First floor.

- Meeting room (room right after the front doors. Sometimes, meetings are held here)

- Dining room (big, cozy. There is a back door)

- Kitchen (big, normally, at least three people are on cooking duty)

- Library (there is a back door. You also have a collection of heavy bronze busts of writers. There's also a phone, that is always on speaker. And it stands on a table with a crack on it. Let's just say, there was an incident, that involves a late night phone call, sleep deprivation, BSD Season 5 ending and real-life Dostoevsky's bronze bust.)

- The Purple Sigh is kept in the Library. Anyone can take it and spend some time with you in your room without interruption. Used by people, who feel overwhelmed, sad and lost.

- Common Room (big room where you held movie nights, play games and so on. There is a back door)

- Medical room (Yosano's/Mori's and Doc's office)

- Two bathrooms

Second, third and fourth floor

Living quarters.

It's up to you, dear readers, who, on what floor and in which room live.

There are only two things I will tell.

1. [Y/N]'s room is on the third floor 'in the middle, like it's surrounded by other rooms'.

2. Each floor has a bathroom. Some rooms have joint bathrooms ([Y/N]'s room has one. Other rooms with bathrooms are up to you.)

3. Every room is unique.

4. Ayatsuji's two cats live in his room.

5. Karl lives in Poe's room

6. Gogol has bird feeders outside his window.

7. Rimbaud's room is very warm, almost toasty.

8. Natsume has his own room and nowadays transform into a cat only if he needs to follow someone quietly or if he wants to cheer you up.

9. Ranpo has a hammock in his room.

Attic

Storage for old things.

_________

Outside

-Small farm. John and Kenji insisted on growing their own vegetables and fruits. Right now, it is still small, but they are planning to make it bigger.

-Barn. Came with the house and land. Empty right now, but Kenji want to get some cows.

- Playground for Oda's kids.

- Picnic area with wooden tables. Good place to have lunch on the open air.

- Garage. (Few cars, Chuuya's and Albatross's bikes)

- Sports/Training area. Place for jogging and doing exercises.

- Swimming pool

[fandomshifter]

COME WHAT MAY, I WILL LOVE YOU UNTILL MY DYING DAY

[ Ford x Reader - Set during season 2 ]

[ Hey guys, I started this fanfic not knowing if I'm going to finish it and posted it on an alt account, but I thought u would be better off posting here! I'm going to try to finish it or write one-shots instead, but unfortunately, I do go back to college in 2 weeks, meaning I won't be posting a lot again! Hope you enjoy this chapter!! ]

CHAPTER 1

When I get back, I'll lay around

Then I'll get up and lay back down

Romanticize a quiet life

There's no place like my room - I know the end

Gravity Falls, Oregon. A small hidden town surrounded by dense woods, with little to no information surrounding it. It's the perfect place for introverts who hate social interaction.

That's what you keep telling yourself every day you wake up. Light filtered through your blinds as you lay there staring at the ceiling. Today is another day. Taking a deep breath, you sit up and run your hands down your face before throwing off your duvet.

"Let's fucking go." You mumble to yourself. You finally get off your bed and start to get ready, grabbing clothes and a towel. It's always good to start a Monday morning with a nice shower.

You slowly trudge to the bathroom, clothes and towel in hand. The bathroom was quite small, a couple of patterned rugs covering the floor. Most of them had patches of bleach and hair dye staining them from your teen years. You place your clothes down on a chest of draws you have in the corner of the room and turn the shower on.

It takes a while for it to finally heat up, but when it does, you jump in and let out a sigh at the feeling. You take your time washing your hair and cleaning yourself, making sure you clean every spot before getting out and wrapping a towel around you. Now it's time for the fun bit. But first, you quickly run to your room to grab your phone before running back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You scroll through songs, deciding on what to play while you get ready, before you remember the supernatural episode you watched last night, and it was decided.

'Heat Of the Moment' by Asia starts playing, and you place your phone down out of the way.

You start brushing out your hair and put it out of the way so it can dry for a while. Next underwear, you put them on, your slightly damp skin making it harder for you to put your bra on. But you manage with a bit of effort. You carry on your routine, taking time to do each stage. The last thing you do is put your clothes on. Some dark orange flared jeans with flowers embroidered on the side of the pants leg and a black top shaped like a butterfly. You pick out some jewellery such as necklaces, rings, and earrings. Taking a quick look in the mirror at your facial piercings, you decided not to change them today.

You fix your hair up how you like it, grab your phone, and make your way downstairs. It was about 8:00 in the morning, which means you had at least 30 minutes left to get to work. Mabel had offered to make breakfast for you before your shift started, and you could never say no to her. So you walk past your kitchen and go towards a cupboard in the living room, which stores your bags, jackets, and shoes. Today, you wanted to wear something comfy on your feet in case Dipper dragged you on another expedition or you needed to save the twins....again. Worn in doc Martins, it is then! You grabbed them along with a brown leather jacket and a satchel with all your important things. Your important things included a journal you kept notes in, several pens and pencils, money and so on and so forth. It had taken 10 minutes to get your last few things sorted before you made your way out the door, locking it behind you.

You liked the woods, they where peaceful ( most of the time ). It was things like this that made you walk instead of drive to work. The scenery was so beautiful that sometimes you wondered why so many scary and terrifying creatures lived here. You softly hummed as you walked towards the mystery shack, the album 'Wasting Light' playing in your ears. It was a short-lived walk because of your fast pace, because soon the mystery shack came into view. Despite the fact that the whole shack was a fraud, it brings a smile to your face every time you see it.

You see a face peek at you through the window, and the next thing you know, you're on the floor with a child wrapped around you.

"Who gave you coffee this morning ?" You ask with a laugh, as you practically rip Mabel off you.

She shrugs, "I'm just very excited you took up my breakfast offer." Her eyes have a sparkle in them, and she offers her hand out to help you up. You accept her help and stand up, dusting your trousers off.

"Loving the sweater today, Mabel, I'm still waiting for you to make me one." You say poking her shoulder jokingly. She laughs and salutes, "I'm on it, also your top is soooo COOL!" She says as she skips her way through the door to the shack.

"Did you like fairies when you were younger? You seem like you did from your outfits ?" She questions, you let out a snort and nod your head,

"Mermaids & faries but only in the Barbie movies." Mabel starts frantically asking questions about Barbie movies. You try to keep up, but she is talking way too fast for your brain. You have fast talking & then you have Mabel.

"Morning, Kid." Stan says, giving you a nod. He's sat at the dining table, reading the newspaper with a coffee next to him. Dipper is reading the Journal, like usual. You give him a pat on the shoulder, and he mumbles a small 'hello'.

"You still trying to find the author, or is it something different this time ?" Stan groans, "Don't encourage him kid please, he already summoned the dead last week cause he wanted to 'prove something'." You let out a small chuckle, and Dipper rolls his eyes.

Mabel has already started making breakfast when you go back to talk to her.

"Dipper seems a bit stressed, doesn't he ?" You whisper to Mabel. She looks at you and nods.

"Ever since that incident with Bill, he's been having nightmares, I really worry about him." She says sadly. These 12 year olds have been through it.

"Wait... Did you say Bill ?" You ask eyebrows furrowing together. Mabel looks at you confused, "Yeahh ? Why, you know about him or something ?"

"No,no... I just read the pages about him in the journal." You say quickly. She looks you up and down before shrugging.

"Anyway, do you need some help ?" She shakes her head, and you go sit at the table with Stan and Dipper.

You take your journal out of your bag and start finishing off some notes you took yesterday on your 'solo mission' as you like to call it. Dipper looks over at your journal, and you can tell he's reading it, so you slide the book over to him. Stan looks between the two of you, then at you, "Not you too, I thought you were just the babysitter." He jokes.

When you first joined back at the Mystery Shack, you helped out around the place, making new things and cleaning up. Now it's more like, make sure the kids don't get hurt or die, because they are doing something stupid like fighting wax figures or time travelling. Stan doesn't know about any of this, of course, but you like to think that's the role you take on. The babysitter.

After a few minutes, Mabel starts placing plates of pancakes in front of everyone.

"Wow, and you didn't set the alarm off, i would have when i was your age." You say honestly, and Stan elbows you slightly, and you both let out a small laugh.

"So what are we doing today then, guys ?" You ask, looking between the twins as you eat your pancakes. Mabel and Dipper look at each other, then look at Stan, who is too busy eating to acknowledge them, then finally look at you.

"What do you want to do Y/N ?" Dipper asks. Your eyes widden.

What. WHY ARE THEY ASKING YOU, YOU'RE INDECISIVE!!

"I don't actually know." You say calmly, "I have an idea tho if it's okay with your grunkle." At the word 'Grunkle' Stan looks up.

"What ?" He says, looking between all 3 of us.

"Can I take the kids out for a very safe and very fun adventure orrr ?" You ask looking at him. He squints his eyes at you while thinking.

"Sure, I don't see why not, I trust you after all." He says with a smile. "But I want them back before dinner." You and kids nod at him.

The 3 of you quickly finish your food and clean the dishes before making your way to the woods.

"WAIT!" Mabel yells before rushing back inside the Mystery shack. She runs out about a minute later with 2 backpacks in her clutches. "Here you go, Dipper, adventure packs!" She exclaims before putting her backpack on. Dipper does the same before mumbling, 'Why didn't I think of these?''

"Right, let's go!" You say, leading the twins into the woods.

"Okay, so I brought you out here because I saw something the other day, and I really didn't think it was real at first, so I thought you guys should see it too." You say as you step over a couple of big roots.

"What was it, is it something from the Journal ?" Dipper questions as he holds back a branch for Mabel to get past.

"Well, it's not from yours, but it's from mine. See, I have had this journal since I was little, and I could write. I re-wrote some of the old things in this new journal, and the thing I saw was something from years back." You explain, the twins nod. Mabel then squeals at the sight of something.

"What is it ?" You and Dipper say in unison.

"ITS A CAT!" She whisper yells. You make a face that makes Mabel grab you by the sleeve of your jacket and pull you to where she was.

"Look there!" She says, pointing through some bushes. She was right. There was a cat just laying right there. You look at Mabel then Dipper, who's just as confused as you.

"I'm taking it home with me." You say before stepping through the bush.

"Wait, it could be a trap!" Dipper yells, you turn and put your hands on your hips, "how is a sleeping cat a trap ?" He let's out huff, and you turn back around to face that cat.

"Hello, kitty." You whisper. You notice a note next to the cat, and you pick up the note, along with the cat, who seems quite content with being slung onto your shoulder.

"My house isn't far from here, so we can put the cat there and continue trying to find the thing I wanna show you, or we can watch a film and eat junk food ?" You ask. You wanted to show the twins this thing, but kids need to be kids, so you gave them the option.

"Junk food!!" Mabel yells, you turn to look at Dipper, and he has a smile on his face.

"What movies have you got ?"

Once you made it back to your house, you rang up Stan and asked if he wanted to join you. He asked why you weren't out adventuring, and you explained the cat, whose name you found out was Misty. Grunkle Stan said he would bring movie supplies, which meant more snacks.

While you were waiting for Stan you set out what you had at your house. The kids were sat on the sofa, Mabel, with the cat in her lap.

"Did the note say anything else ?" Dipper asks as he puts his hand out for the cat to sniff before patting its little head.

"Yeah, it says she has a problem with her nasal passage. Basically, she has a blocked nose constantly, but it doesn't harm her or anything."

You say,

"Ahhhh, explains why she is so snotty." Mabel giggles. "Are you going to keep her ?" She asks. You roll your eyes at her, "Of course I'm keeping her, finders keepers." The twins giggle at that,

and so do you.

Stan finally shows up for the movie, bringing Wendy and soos. The more the merrier! You sit down on your chair while the others take up the sofa and bean bags you brought down.

"So what are we watching ?" Stan asks.

"Well, I'm a sucker for making people watch classic movies. It's what my parents did with me, so I settled on Bill & Ted's excellent adventure." Stan chuckles at your reply,

"Good pick, kid."

"What can I say? My parents gave me good taste in movies and music." You say with a laugh as you play the movie.

You guys ended up watching both movies, and you think you gave Mabel a new boy crush. Woops! At least she doesn't live you, so it won't be you dealing with it. It's late by the time you guys finish both movies.

"Wanna do movie day again ?" You ask the twins,

"Yes, definitely absolutely!" Mabel replies, before giving you a hug and rushing to Stans car.

"What about you, Dipper ? I think it would be good for you, have a break from adventures, you are 12 after all." He looks up at you and nods his head. You pat his head, and he goes to the car with soos and Wendy.

"Thanks for all this today, I really appreciate it, kid." Stan says, you let out a small laugh.

"I will never understand why you call me kid. I'm 34, but you're welcome. I'm more than happy to do it again, friend." He let's out a huffed laugh before heading to his car.

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week Day 3: Reality TV

Words: 1761

Read on AO3

-

“What the hell is ‘Celebrity Bake Off’?” Beca asked, her eyes briefly flicking up from the dough she was kneading. 

“The clue is kind of in the name, Beca,” Theo replied, taking a seat up at the kitchen island and accepting the coffee Chloe handed to him with a nod. “It’s the celebrity version of ‘The Great British Baking Show’.”

“‘Great British Bake Off’,” Chloe corrected. “That’s what they call it over there.”

“Yeah, c’mon Theo, aren’t you meant to be British?” Beca asked. She dropped the dough into a glass bowl and covered it with a dish towel, before washing her hands and drying them on the front of her apron.

“I was just testing you,” Theo said. “So in a few minutes when you try and tell me you’ve never watched the show, I can call you a liar.”

“Why would I say I’d never seen the show? We watch it every year,” Beca asked. 

“Because they want you to appear on the next season of Celebrity Bake Off.”

“Me?” Beca asked, eyebrows shooting into her hairline. 

“No, Chloe,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. “Of course you. You’re the only celebrity in the room.”

Beca pulled a face. “I’m hardly a celebrity.”

Theo sighed and turned his head to where Beca’s platinum record hung on the wall before turning back to look at her. “Are you interested or not?”

“Of course not,” Beca said. “Why would I want to go on reality TV?”

“It’s hardly reality TV,” Theo replied. “It’s not like I’m asking you to go on that show where they make you eat bugs and shit, this is Bake Off we’re talking about. It’s cosy and inoffensive and everyone loves it. It’s not like it’ll be a big time commitment, you’d only be in one episode.”

“Yeah, not a big time commitment other than that I’d have to travel to England.”

“Well it just so happens that the filming coincides with your UK tour dates, so you’ll be there anyway,” Theo said, grinning smugly. 

“I’m not going on TV, Theo,” Beca said. “I’ll make an idiot of myself, I can barely handle doing interviews let alone something like this.”

“You’ll do great,” Theo said, waving a hand at her as if he was swatting away her arguments. “And you won’t make an idiot of yourself because you happen to be a pretty good baker.”

“I bake as a way to unwind,” Beca counters. “I find it relaxing and what goes on in that tent is anything but relaxing.”

“Yeah, to normal contestants,” Theo said. “It means something to them, they’re baking for their lives. There are no stakes for you. You turn up, bake three things and then leave. If it goes bad, who cares?”

“Why are you pushing for this? Why do they even want me in the first place?”

“Because you suck at self-promotion and this is a great opportunity for people to see your face,” Theo said. “They want you because you’re a big deal. They want people to tune in and donate and all that shit. Plus you had that whole Twitter exchange with Paul Hollywood, the seed has already been planted.”

Beca sighed. She knew she’d come to regret that drunken tweet sent to Paul Hollywood where she’d asked if she could hang out in the tent for a day “just to help take care of any leftover cakes”.

“What did you mean by donate?” Chloe asked, trying not to smirk at the look on Beca’s face as she contemplated actually having to do this.

“Oh,” Theo said, his voice brightening. “That’s the best part! It’s all for charity!”

“What charity?” Chloe asked.

“Um, let me check,” Theo said, pulling up his phone as if he didn’t already know off the top of his head. As if he didn’t know this would be the final thing to convince Beca to do this. “Stand up to Cancer,” he said.

Beca looked at him and then turned to look at Chloe. Chloe shrugged and smiled.

“God dammit, Theo.”

-

“On your marks, get set, bake!” 

Beca looked down at her carefully typed-out recipe and told herself to breathe. 

They wanted 8 of her signature brownies. Easy. She could whip up a batch of brownies in her sleep.

So why did she feel so nervous?

She shook herself out of it and focused on mixing the batter, hoping that her hands would have stopped shaking by the time Paul and Prue made their way to her. 

The morning passed in a blur. Her brownies got rave reviews though were not quite handshake-worthy. 

Beca had recognised two out of the other three contestants - a teenage member of a boy band that she met at the Grammys last year, and a talk show host who interviewed her during her first UK tour a few years before that. The final contestant was a Scottish comedian whom Beca wasn’t familiar with, but whom the others in the group seemed to know well.

After a break to film some interviews outside the tent, they were ushered back for the technical challenge and were told they’d have to make 12 identical pieces of shortbread. 

The Scottish comedian cheered and clapped his hands. 

“Do we have to even bake now?” The talk show host asked. “Can’t he just have first place and save us the time?”

Beca looked down at the provided recipe and tried not to smile

“Beca, how are we feeling about shortbread?” Host Noel Fielding asked as he approached with co-host Alison Hammond. 

“I’m feeling okay,” she said. “Shortbread is like my wife’s favourite thing, I make it pretty often for her.”

“Ah, so we’re quietly confident?”

“Sure, let’s go with that. James over there is loudly confident, I can be quietly confident.”

“So, Beca, tell us why Stand up to Cancer is so important to you?”

Beca knew they were going to ask that question. Before filming started they were told that they’d all be asked it at some point during the day and that the producers would hand-pick a couple to air on the show, but it still seemed to catch her off-guard. 

She felt a lump in her throat and found it hard to raise her eyes from her shortbread dough. 

“Well my, um, my wife Chloe was diagnosed with breast cancer about five years ago,” Beca said. “Thankfully she managed to beat it, but if it wasn’t for charities like Stand up to Cancer, then she might not be here and that’s… well, it’s unthinkable really.”

They thanked her for sharing and wished her good luck with the bake, and Beca had to shake herself out of the memories before she got lost in them. 

She turned her attention back to the shortbread and hoped that she’d have enough left over at the end of the day to take back to the hotel room where Chloe was waiting for her. 

“And that means first place are these,” Prue said, gesturing to Beca’s stack of perfect shortbread.

The other contestants clapped and someone patted Beca on the back.

“This is cultural appropriation!” The comedian called out, head in his hands after his shortbread landed him in last place.

“First place,” Beca said to the camera during her last interview of the day. “Not bad.” There’s a hint of surprise in her voice and a small smile on her face. 

When she makes it back to the hotel that evening, Chloe is lying on the bed reading. 

“How did it go?” She asked, smiling and putting her book down. 

“Yeah, pretty good,” Beca replied. “I brought you something back.” She hands Chloe a box filled with her leftover shortbread. 

“Are these yours or did you swipe them from another contestant?” Chloe asked before taking a bite. She let out a small moan as her eyes closed in pleasure. “Forget I asked, I know these are yours.”

Beca laughed and joined her wife on the bed. When they kissed, Beca could taste the sugar on her lips. 

-

The next day passed quicker than the first with only one final bake left to do, and Beca got back at the hotel by dinner with a box of profiteroles, macarons, and a slice of thick rich chocolate cake.

“Well?” Chloe asked, biting into a macaron. “How did you do?”

Beca shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Come on, you’re really not going to tell me?”

Beca mimed zipping her lips. “The show airs in three months, I think you can wait until then.”

-

“And the winner of the Star Baker apron is… Beca!” 

On the couch beside her, Chloe squealed and wrapped Beca in a hug. “I knew it!”

On the TV Beca is being interviewed in her Star Baker apron, but neither Beca nor Chloe could hear over the sound of their other friends cheering in the background. 

Chloe insisted on having a watch-along party for Beca’s episode, Beca had insisted that she’d rather die than have to watch herself on TV, but as usual, Chloe won.

“I was honestly pretty pleased when I won it, but after watching the episode back it looks like I was the only one who even knew how to turn an oven on,” Beca said, rolling her eyes but grinning as Chloe pressed another kiss against her cheek. 

“I knew you’d win,” Chloe said. 

“Told you you wouldn’t embarrass yourself,” Theo said. 

Beca waved him off. “You were bound to be right about something eventually.”

“What made you decide to do it?” A co-worker asked, grabbing one of the cookies Beca had made for the occasion.

“I mean, you heard me on the show,” Beca said, referring to the segment when Beca had talked about Chloe’s diagnosis. She hadn’t expected they’d use her soundbite, or even that they’d throw up some photos Beca had taken at around that time. The room had gone completely silent, and her hand had found Chloe’s quickly. “My wife’s here because of a cancer treatment that might not exist without charities that fund research. Once I heard it was raising money for that, it was a no-brainer.” A few people nodded and murmured their understanding, but the room was still quiet. “Plus I knew Chloe wanted me to, charity or not, and Chloe always gets her way.”

“It’s true,” Chloe agreed. “Though you didn’t tell me that you’d won, even though I was pestering you for weeks.”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“Babe, I found that apron in your suitcase the second we got home. I’ve known for months.”

[x-aefx]

ONE TIME THING - BELLA RAMSEY (PART2)

Pictures above are not mine

Summary: unbeknownst to you, you meet actor Bella Ramsey. You two hit it off but your paths lead two different directions.

Bella Ramsey x female reader

Warnings: none (?)

Taglist:

She/they pronouns for Bella.

★★

You were confident in saying that today was the busiest you had ever seen the café. Every table occupied, every chair sat on, crowds of people surrounding the tv that hung on the wall cheering or making other loud commentary every so often.

You could never understand the obsession with sports, looking around you, you didn't think you ever would.

You sighed tiredly as the third person in the last few minutes had knocked into you. Pushing through endless amounts of bodies you made your way to the door labelled "staff only". Untying your apron from your waist you made a grab for your coat and handbag. When you had all your belongings you made your way back into the main area.

You had no desire to stay any longer than necessary.

The place was loud and so warm that it felt suffocating. When you had safely secured the box that was left for you behind the counter into your arms, you sped for the door.

Once the door closed behind you, trapping all the noise from inside, you felt a relief like no other. It was like you could finally breath, think, again.

Luckily Aaron's apartment was only a short walk away so you decided you would go straight to his rather than your own, as it was a good 20 minute walk and you were exhausted.

Fighting your way through the crowded street and avoiding the puddles on the footpath you kept walking at a fast pace until you reached the familiar apartment complex. The building was large and the people whom resided in it were nice. Stepping into the elevator (thankfully empty) you pressed floor 4 and patiently waited.

You always told yourself you should always expect the unexpected when it came to Aaron, to not be surprised at his antics but being so tired left your guard down.

"fuck off you fat bitch!"

Stopping briefly at the sound off your best friends voice followed by an unnatural sounding screech, your steps slowed slightly once you began cautiously walking again. You instinctively clutched the box in your hand out of worry.

Poking your head around the corner as to not reveal yourself fully to whatever danger may be present, you frowned.

Rubbing your eyes with your hand whilst the other loosened it's grib on the box you suppressed a groan.

"this world tests me everyday." You grumbled.

You walked into Aaron's apartment as he looked at you in shock and over exaggerated horror.

"there was a predator the size of my FOOT RIGHT THERE! " Aaron yelled after you.

"really? Is it going to the match?" You set the box onto the kitchen counter, opening it up, the sweet smell of donuts hit you pleasantly.

Whatever Aaron was going to say next was lost on his lips

"I love you so much" Aaron muttered as he eyed the donuts hungrily. You snorted.

"right, wanna start season 6?" You shrugged your coat off and left it on the back of the nearest chair, making yourself comfortable on the couch as you carefully held your donut whilst you moved. Aaron hated crumbs on the coach.

"You bet! Were going to finish season 6 Today! I'm tired of constantly dodging spoilers." Aaron joined you on the couch.

You doubted you would get through the entire season in a day, you were working at 8 o'clock tomorrow, you couldn't be up the entire night.

You tried your best to avoid spoilers but you had heard season 6 was when the show starts to dip. So far, you didn't agree. Every so often Aaron would impersonate a character (very loudly) you hoped the neighbors couldn't hear, he wasn't exactly quoting nice things.

When episode 6 finished you felt your eyes slowly begin to droop, the busy morning you had was beginning to catch up on you. Stretching your legs out you stiffly got up from your seat on the couch, you had been sitting in it for hours straight.

The yawn that escaped your lips caught Aarons attention.

"Oh No no! We're getting through the rest of the season! You can't fall asleep now!" It was like he could read your thoughts, he was quick to dismiss whatever excuse you could throw at him.

"I have work tomorrow!" You whined.

Aaron weighed your words in his mind for a few short seconds.

"one more episode?" Aaron negotiated.

You knew you should be getting to your own home now, but you had to admit the show was good and spending this much time with Aaron was rare when you both worked. Rolling your eyes you give him a small nod before turning around to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. Faintly you could hear his cheers.

Opening the cupboard as episode seven played you pulled out your favourite mug, setting it on the counter you took out the hot chocolate powder and warmed up the milk, every so often looking up at the tv.

Leaning against the counter you sipped at your hot drink as you watch the tv. Your eyes moved over to Aaron, you laughed quietly to yourself as he sat completely still with eyes wide and focused on the show his mouth was slightly agape.

Setting your mug down you debated which donut looked better, there was two left; one chocolate covered with chocolate sprinkles, the other had white icing and red velvet crumbs sprinkled on top. You decided on the chocolate one.

"welcome to bear island."

Your reached for a napkin as you listened to the tv.

Turning you watched as Sansa talked, Sansa was always your favorite after Arya.

"I remember when you were born my lady. You were named for my aunt Lyanna. It was said she was a great beauty I'm sure you will be too."

"I doubt it. my mother wasn't a great beauty or any other kind of beauty. She was a great warrior though. She died fighting for your brother Robb."

"I fucking love her oh my days!" Aaron laughed as he watched Sansa and Jon share a shocked look. Noticing the silence of his friend Aaron turned to look to you. Grinning at your shocked face.

"what? Weren't expecting one of your faves to be grilled by a child?" Aaron teased.

His words didn't register in your mind, infact you hadn't heard them, not his voice or the voices of the characters on screen. Now it was you who was standing still watching the tv like a hawke with a slightly opened mouth.

That character on screen was too familiar. The face of the stranger you had sat beside on the bus flashed in your mind. But they were older looking and they're hair was shorter. You closed your mouth and stood straigher once you came back to reality. Your brows furrowed. They looked so much alike.

"who's that?" You kept your eyes on the screen with your finger pointed.

Aaron obviously knowing you were talking about the unfamiliar character on screen, was quick to answer.

Clearing his throat dramatically as he placed a hand on his chest.

"that is the Lady Lyanna Mormont of Bear Island. If you were paying attention you would-"

"not the character the actor! Who plays her?"

Aaron shrugged his soldiers.

"why is that so important all of a sudden."

"I'm pretty sure I sat beside them on the bus on the way to work this morning." You said flatly. There was no point beating around the bush.

Aaron stared at you in silence for a moment.

"I see." Came his calm reply as he turned his focus back to game of thrones.

"I just told you I sat beside one of the actor from your current favorite show, and all you say Is 'I see' ?"

You were confused. You thought Aaron would be running around the apartment in joy.

"you didn't meet them. You thought you did, but you didn't."

You scoffed. Pulling out your phone from your back pocket you opened up Google.

'who plays Lyanna Mormont in game of thrones?'

"Bella Ramsey?" You muttered the name, more to yourself.

You went out of Google and typed in the name into Instagram. Clicking on the first account that popped up you didn't have to scroll for long.

The minute you seen their most recent post, it clicked in your head. Seeing the recent photo of them at the met gala rather than an old one from when they were on game of thrones confirmed your thoughts.

"I fucking met Bella fucking Ramsey on the bus without fucking knowing and embarrassed the shit out of myself."

You didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

You met Aarons wide-eyed gaze.

"fuck my life!"

--

When you arrived home you had told yourself you would forget this whole situation and go straight to bed.

That night you got the worst sleep of your life. You estimated you got a total of an hours sleep.

Eventually you gave up and decided you might as well get an early start to the day. Getting ready for work didn't take that long and since you woke up early you would have plenty of time to walk to work today.

You had to admit it was nice walking in the early morning. The number of cars that drove passed you weren't particular high, just the odd person on their way to work much like yourself.

Listening to music helped the walk go quicker, you soon arrived at work.

No matter how early you thought you were, Emma always proved to get to the café before you. Sometimes you thought she had slept the night.

Emma has been working at the café longer than you have. She was a favourite amongst customers with her enthusiastic personality and caring nature. She was impossible not to love. Sometimes you couldn't help but think what was a girl like her was doing working at this café. A face like hers deserved to be on billboards. You were certain she must've had over a dozen boys waiting outside her door every day.

"Morning!" She greeted you in her cheery voice.

You smiled at her, "mornin" you greeted her back.

As you made your way out back you silently prayed the day would go by quick and without fuss. You knew the lack of sleep would catch up on you sooner or later if you didn't make yourself a coffee.

--

"have a good day" you smiled as you handed a regular, an elderly man by the name of Tom and his wife Maria, their tea and scones.

"we will. And make sure not to tire yourself out deary." Maria warned, you knew it was coming from a good place.

"come now my love. I'm sure she doesn't need us distracting her from her work." Tom playfully rolled his eyes at you. maria if she could would talk to you, or anyone for that matter, for hours. No exaggeration.

"hey there's a customer waiting outside, I would do it but there's a woman who's about to beat that shit out of me if I don't drop everything to tend to her immediately." Emma groaned, tucking a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear. You looked back to the woman with matching red hair that stared at Emma inpatiently.

You cringed. "Say hello to your mum for me." You whispered as you gave her arm a comforting squeeze.

Making your way outside to the only person seated you took out your small notepad and pen, ready to take their order.

You couldn't see their face as they sat with their back towards you, a black cap on their head and a blue, red and yellow flannel. Their head was dipped, you guessed they were on the their phone.

You cleared your throat as you stood Infront of their table. They looked up at the sudden disruption.

When bella recognized your face they broke out in a grin.

When you recognized Bella's face you stared in surprise. You certainly weren't expecting this. For bella to show up when you were working, though you did tell them (a stranger) that you worked here. That didn't mean you thought they would actually show up.

They're probably just here by coincidence. It doesn't mean anything.

"I did say I would have to visit, did I not?" Bella was the first to speak.

"yeah um, its just it's still a shock." You mumbled.

"sorry I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Actually thinking about it, this probably seems really weird to you-"

"it's not weird it's just a bit awkward I mean-"

"definitely a bit awkward I understand. I just enjoyed talking to you-"

"I enjoyed talking to you too."

Bella went to say something but stopped once your words fully registered in her head. she smiled.

"so is there anything I can get you? Or did you only want to talk?" You teased her lightly.

The smallest hint of red appeared on her cheeks.

"just the tomato soup please."

You scribbled the order down and promised them it would be ready soon.

"I'm Bella by the way" bella stopped you before you could go back inside.

"I'm y/n"

"nice to meet you, y/n."

--

Barely 10 minutes had passed and the shock had yet to wear off. The cafe has become busier so to your dismay you didn't see bella since you took their order, Emma had brought out their soup.

You went from table to table scribbling down orders and bringing them to the kitchen. Thankfully you had a decent amount of energy in you despite only running on one hour of sleep.

Exiting the kitchen you began cleaning the bar. Oddly you found this to be sort of nice. There was only one or two people seated on the stools as many only came for the alcohol which wouldn't commonly be ordered in the afternoon. One man in particular recalled a childhood story loudly to the younger man beside him.

"sorry, a customer wanted to give this to you. I asked for their name, they said you would know who it would be from. " Melanie, another waitress tapped you on the arm. You looked down at their outstretched hand, a small folded piece of paper.

You frowned but thanked Melanie for bringing it to you as you took the note from her.

You were quick to open it.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Something came up, but I really would like to get to know you more.

000-000-000

-bella

-----------------------------------------------------------

Part one⬇️

Part three⬇️

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 1

plasmadonor!Joel x f!reader

You’re the star phlebotomist at the local plasma center, and the job has been increasingly mundane as of late… until a new and handsome Texan donor comes to the center and changes that, and the rest your life.

Series Masterlist

Series warnings:

AU, M/F, Age gap (20 years)-reader’s YOB is 1995 (purely coincidental lolol), eventual SMUT, blood, needles, & plasma talk (nothing too graphic, I promise!), a bit of blasphemy, criticism of religion, mentions of death, divorce, angst, fluffity fluff fluff, alcohol consumption, violence.  Individual chapters will have specific warnings.

FYI – this work contains criticisms of religion and reader is atheist/agnostic.  Feel free to scroll if this offends you.  If you decide to read, remember that even if you are religious, this is not an attack on you, but rather ideology.  And remember the tenets of religious freedom.  Everyone has the right to believe – and NOT to believe – in the things you do.

Plasma Center UrbanDict:

Stick = venipuncture

PR = permanent rejection, aka permanent deferral

Reception = where donors have vitals taken to determine if they are suitable to donate

Donor Floor = where the magic happens, baby! Where donation occurs, aka sticks with big 17G needles

 Processing = where units of plasma are sampled and frozen

This is my first ever fic! Excited to share all of it with you. I'm new to posting this kind of stuff on Tumblr, so please forgive rookie formatting and whatnot. Hope you enjoy! As of 03/10/24, I have 6 chapters written - I'm juggling my writing with finishing my MPH degree, so my schedule might be a little spotty until mid-May.

Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: blood, needles, & plasma talk, light violence.

WC: 3.7k

Friday, October 15th | 0755

You turn into the parking lot at the plasma center, a little later than your usual 10 minutes early.  Your shift is at 8, so you don’t have much time to walk to the center, clock in, grab your coat and face shield and get to work.  Thankfully, the parking lot is just across the street.  As soon as you step out of your car, downtown Omaha greets you with the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and fall air, along with the sounds of the city buses and commuters chugging along.

It’s a nice morning.  Living in Nebraska means you get to experience the peaks and valleys of all four seasons, and during fall, this means the leaves of what few trees are in the downtown area are painted lovely hues of orange, yellow, and even red – if you’re lucky enough to find a scarlet or pin oak tree.

The plasma center parking lot is shared with employees and donors, and it’s packed this morning.  Not a great sign.  You walk up to the back employee entrance and punch in the code.  The keypad beeps and lights up green and you pull open the ages-old, heavy-as-hell door and make your way to the break room.

The donor waiting area is just outside the break room door, and you can tell by how full it is that it’s going to be a long day, confirming your earlier suspicions in the parking lot.  Somebody definitely called in, you think.  Great.  Punching in the same code as before, you enter the break room, throw your stuff in your locker, and clock in.

As soon as you’re on the Donor Floor, donned with your white lab coat, blue nitrile gloves, and face shield, one of your best phlebotomists and good friend Keri approaches, looking flustered as hell.

“Jesus, thank fuck you’re here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and raising her eyebrows at you.  She smooths back her frizzy hair and sets down her face shield on the counter next to you.

“Are we short today, or did corporate send out some bonus texts to half of Omaha?” you say, checking the Donor Queue on the computer.  15 people waiting, average wait time of 43 minutes.  Fucking clean up time, I guess.

“Two call-outs, but they’re newbies, so it wouldn’t have mattered, really,” she says.  “Definite yes on the bonus texts.  Regulars are all pissed off because they didn’t get any.”  You roll your eyes and sigh.  To get more donors in, the company you work for has been sending bonus texts to donors that haven’t been in in a while, which really ticks off the regular, twice-a-week donors.  It’s all about meeting that liters budget.

“Where do you need me?  Breaks need to be sent?” you ask her.  You’re the lead phlebotomist, but you always check in with whoever opened before you make any decisions.  Keri nods.  “Send Blake to break, he’s got an open section now and we’ve got to get these wait times down.”  You grab your mobile phlebotomy device and head that way.

Each phlebotomist can have a maximum of 6 donors in their section.  You see Blake cleaning up the machine from his last disconnect, leaving you an empty section.  “You can head to break, I’ll take over here,” you say, helping him wipe down the now-empty donor bed.

“Thanks… really happy that you’re here.  It’s been a shit show today,” he says, walking away from the section toward the break room.  You groan and head up to the front near the waiting area, grab a chart, and start climbing the mountain.

Thursday, October 15th | 1230

The morning turned out to be an absolute disaster.  You quickly filled up your section once you sent Blake to break, apologizing to every donor you sat for the wait times.  Most were understanding.  There were a few that gave you an eye roll or a shrug.  A few left the center, not wanting to be late for work.  The fall is generally a busy time at the center, with people seeking extra money for football tailgates and games, college students needing extra money for just about everything, and parents stocking up early on holiday savings.

Thankfully, Keri, you, and the rest of the morning Donor Floor crew knocked the Queue down to 3 donors and wait times down to 10 minutes.  Once the last morning break was done, they came over and sent you to your lunch.  Delighted, you took off your sweaty coat and hung it up, washed your hands at the sink by the coat rack, and headed to the break room.

Before you’re able to punch in the door code, a deep, velvety voice stops you.

“Uh, miss?  Can you point me in the right direction?”

You turn and look in the direction of the voice and see a taller man with dark, silvery-streaked curly hair, tanned skin and pensive brown eyes staring at you.  He’s donning a red flannel that squeezes his broad shoulders and ropy arm muscles, and dark wash Levi’s that have the outline of his wallet imprinted in the front right pocket.  He’s definitely a blue-collar guy, not unlike a lot of the current donors.  Must be a new donor, you think.  Damn, he looks good.  You feel a little zap in your chest, not unlike the fingerstick donors get during screening.

“Hi!  Are you a new donor?”  You ask, turning on your customer service voice in hopes of calming your nerves.  You step back from the door and walk toward him.  He’s got a small white paper slip in hand, which tells you he needs his veins checked, so he must be new.

“Yes ma’am, need someone ‘ta look at my veins.  Been here before, but it’s been a long time,” he says, watching you approach him and giving you the once-over.  Twice-over.  Your pulse quickens.  His voice is like icing, dripping with a sweet Southern accent and mushing your insides.  You smile and take the paper from him, hoping that you aren’t blushing.

“Roll up your sleeves for me and let’s take a look,” you say, watching him roll up the sleeves of his red flannel.  He’s got thick, veiny forearms that are tanned and covered with freckles.  He wears a watch on his left wrist that you assume hasn’t been removed in years, judging by the pure white skin peeking underneath.  His hands are big and scarred.  Definitely works with his hands, you think.  He has a small, circle-shaped scar on his right arm near the venipuncture site, so he was telling the truth about donating plasma before.  You grab a tourniquet hanging on the cabinet near the chart area, wrap it on his upper arm, and feel.  His veins are huge and muscular, and you realize you didn’t need the tourniquet in the first place.  Rookie mistake.

“Guess I really don’t need this,” you say, removing the tourniquet and feeling his ropy veins with your index finger.  His skin is warm under your clammy finger.  He chuckles.  “Heard that one before,” he says.  You laugh and make eye contact with him, noticing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his salt and pepper beard.  His gaze is amiable and filled with something else you can’t quite pinpoint, and your stomach twists.  You look away before you can decipher it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the stick,” you say, and he laughs.  “Are you hydrated?  Had a good meal in the last hour or two?” You ask, writing your name on the vein check slip and circling “Pass.”  You see the name Joel Miller written at the top.

“Yes ma’am, I do a lot of workin’ outside and with my hands, so I know better,” he says, confirming your earlier assumption.  His voice is sending a wave of tingles from your ears to your neck, and you feel goosebumps start to erupt in their pathway.

“Good man, Joel,” you say, noticing him perk up at you saying his name, “Take this back to the front desk and we’ll get you processed as quickly as we can.”  He nods, gives you a handsome-as-fuck lopsided smile, and walks back to the front.  You head back to the break room and turn to glance at him once more to find that he's already looking at you.  Fuck, you think, looking back at the door.  Don’t need a hot donor making me feel nervous like this.  He’s older than you, but he might be the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.  You can only imagine how homely you look, clad in your scrubs and sweaty from the morning hustle and bustle.

You see every part of humanity at your job: young and old, foreign and domestic, all races and ethnicities, handsome and near homeless.  There have been a few men that have caught your eye, and a few that you’ve met up with outside of the center, but none like this one.  As tedious and mundane as the job can be, it’s the people that make it exciting, especially attractive ones.  Well, hopefully he passes screening so I can see him on the Donor Floor, you think, contemplating what you’re going to get for lunch in the short time that you have.

Thursday, October 15th | 1430

Your break went by too fast.  You decided on some fast-food place just across the street from the center.  It’s good and cheap, but you know the greasy food is going to put you in a late-afternoon lull.  Oh well.  After you got back, the lobby was still relatively empty, so you started working on doing the monthly machine cleanings in the meantime.

The plasmapheresis machines are complicated and like everything else in the plasma center, they come with lots of rules and regulations.  You’re a seasoned pro, though, so the cleaning and documentation are a breeze.  You’re heading over to clean the last of the machines in the third row of the Donor Floor when you see a familiar, handsome head of dark salt-and-pepper curls walk behind Keri to one of the donor beds in the first row.  He smiles at you as he lies on the donor bed, and you feel your cheeks heat and curl up into a smile of their own.  Get a fucking grip.  You’re relieved that Keri is taking care of him, because you’re nervous just seeing him in your work area.  You can only imagine how shaky your hands would be with a needle if you were the one sticking him.

While cleaning the machines in the third row, you periodically look over at Joel and Keri.  Keri is great with the donors, and it’s evident when you see Joel laughing with her.  Each time you look up, he’s either already looking at you or looks up right after you do.  You try to play it off like you’re scanning over all the donors, making sure everything is going as it should, but the sweat sheen forming on your face and neck betray you.

You see the light on his machine turn green, indicating he’s been stuck and is running smoothly.  You imagine what it would’ve been like to feel his veins again, feeling his warm, tan skin underneath your fingers… and underneath other things, like—

“Oh my god, that man is such a charmer… and asked about you at least three times,” Keri states, snapping you out of your horny daydream.  Your eyes widen and you turn so he can’t see your face from where he’s seated.

“Shhh!  Keep your voice down!”  You hiss, making both of you giggle.  “What was he saying?”

“Oh, nothing much, just asking what the cute girl that checked his veins was doing all the way over here,” she smirks.  “He used to donate here over 25 years ago when the center first opened up.  Can you believe he’s that old?  He does NOT look like it.”  Odd, you think.  He didn’t sound like he was from here when you spoke to him earlier.  Wait, did he say I was cute?  Blushing at his remark about your appearance, you remember the scar on his arm and think he’s probably telling the truth.  “Wow, he looks good.  How old is he?”  Keri pulls him up on her mobile phlebotomy handheld and you see he was born in 1975.  Damn.  20 years older than you.

Before you and Keri can gush further about Joel, the front door slams shut, echoing throughout the center and catching everyone off-guard.  You watch as one of the younger regular donors, Cedric, storms past Reception and the donor waiting area over to the Donor Floor front desk, near where you checked Joel’s veins earlier.  He practically spits your name, his brows pinched in a rage.

“Cedric, is everything alright?”  You ask, approaching the front desk slowly.  The once-noisy Donor Floor is quiet, save for the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines.  Donors not wearing headphones are anxiously watching the front desk.  You give Cedric the once-over and notice that his arm wrap is soaked with blood, and some of it has gotten on his white shirt and shorts and the floor around him.  First rule of donating: Never wear white to a plasma center, dude.

“Does it fucking look alright?  My arm wasn’t wrapped right and now I have blood everywhere!”  he fumes.  The entire Donor Floor is watching, including Joel and poor Blake, who must’ve disconnected Cedric.  Blake approaches tentatively, tail between his legs, but you put your hand up to him, saying I’ll take care of this.  Blake gives you a thankful nod and tiptoes back to his section.

“Cedric, I’m sorry about that.  Come over to the sink and I’ll rewrap it for you,” you say, putting a fresh pair of gloves on.  “Keri, can you clean up the blood spots with bleach, please?”  You ask.  She nods and grabs a Clorox bottle near the front desk, putting her face shield on and quickly walking around Cedric to search for the path of blood droplets.  Cedric raises his voice again.

“Not good enough.  I need that kid fired for his incompetence!” he points aggressively at Blake, flinging some blood droplets on the arm of your coat and on the front desk.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Cedric.  Blake is a great employee.  We can fix this.  Let’s get you cleaned up, and maybe we can compensate you a little extra on your next donation,” you offer.  But Cedric isn’t having it.  He rips off the arm wrap and gauze and throws them at you while screaming expletives.  The bloodied wrap nearly hits your face shield.  Oh, hell no.  He’s a long-term donor, so he’s probably clean, but it’s too close for comfort.

“Blake, call Trina and call the cops.  Get this guy out of here.  Cedric, don’t ever come back to this place,” you calmly instruct, walking backwards to find a biohazard container a safe distance from Cedric, never turning away from him.  Trina, your manager, doesn’t put up with this kind of stuff and will make sure he’s permanently deferred.

“Fuck you, bitch!”  Cedric yells, sprinting out of the center with two fingers on his free hand holding his venipuncture site, some blood dripping underneath.  Once the front door slams shut, you turn around and take off all your PPE and toss it in the biohazard container, saving your nametag and pen.  Frustrated and tired, you walk to the sink to wash your hands.  Keri and Trina approach you.

“You alright, hon?” Trina asks.  She’s a good manager, always looking out for her employees.  She used to work on the Donor Floor, so she’s no stranger to these kinds of mishaps.  Tensions can be hefty in this area – some donors are desperate for money, some fear needles more than death itself, and some are just grumps.  Phlebotomists usually get the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to cool off.  I told Blake to call the cops.”  She nods.

“Go ahead.  When the police get here, they’ll want your statement, so I’ll come find you then… I’ll put in the PR now,” she says, giving your arm a supportive squeeze before walking back toward the offices.  You give her a pained smile and look to Keri, equally concerned as Trina.  “Take your afternoon break, love.  I’ll handle everything else,” she says.  “Thanks, Ker.  I’m gonna step in the freezer to cool off and then I’ll go.”  She nods.  You head toward Processing, located at the opposite end of the center.  Processing has two giant walk-in freezers that always maintain temps of -40ºC – great for keeping fresh plasma frozen solid and an instant cool down.

You step in one of the freezers, shutting the heavy door behind you.  You walk over to the fans and stand underneath.  The sweat on your neck and back quickly freezes in its downward track, leaving behind a sting that could soon turn to frostbite.  It doesn’t take long to cool off here, and anybody staying in for longer than a minute is supposed to put on a heavy coat, gloves, and a ski mask.  It’s a popular spot for blistering summer days and after heated interactions like this.  Satisfied with the pink blooming on your fingers and the crunch of your frozen, sweaty hair, you step out of the freezer and make your way outside for your break.

Once at the picnic table at the outdoor employee break area, you do a quick scan for Cedric.  You can see the trails of blood drops leading to and from his car, and an empty space where his car must’ve been parked.  Heaving a sigh of relief, you plop down at the table and massage your temples.  Fuck… glad this day is almost over.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” A soothing, Southern voice rings in your ear and you look up, seeing Joel approach from his truck.  He says your name, surprising you.  Keri must’ve told him it while she was going through the process with him.

You take this moment to return the once-over he gave you earlier.  Twice-over.  His sleeves are still rolled up and you can see his arm wrap.  His jeans crinkle at the hip with each step, his strong, toned quads flexing as each foot contacts the pavement.  You can only imagine what he looks like from behind.  His cowboy boots are worn, the leather cracking around the toes.  He’s probably the type to wear a pair until they crumble to bits.  He walks with a quiet bravado, taking long, smooth strides until he reaches you at the table.

You’ve no doubt you look exhausted.  Though your sweat has frozen, you can feel how frizzy your hair is, especially around your face.  Your eyes sting with fatigue and the skin underneath your eyelids tug downward.  Your throat feels dry and tight, like you might cry soon.  He must notice because the look in his eyes morphs from concern to anger.

“Hi, Joel,” you state, forcing a smile.  “I’m okay.  Not my first rodeo,” you wink, giving him a sarcastic “yee-haw” motion.  He laughs, but his eyes betray him, still showing anger.

“Mind if I sit?” He motions to the spot across from you.

“No, go ahead, but the cops are on their way and who knows if Cedric will be back,” you caution him.  He waves you off.

“That fuckin’ kid don’t scare me, and I saw everythin’ anyway.  I can talk to the cops if you ain’t comfortable,” he says.  He puts his hands on the backs of yours, and you feel another zap in your chest like you did when you first saw him earlier.  You notice now that he doesn’t have a wedding ring.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to.  I’m well versed in this department,” you say, feeling the tears reaching their boiling point.  You do everything you can to keep them in, but one betrays you and falls down your cheek.  Angry that you’re crying in front of Joel, you try to move your hand out from underneath his to wipe the tear, but he beats you to it.

“It’s okay, darlin’.  You did the right thing, stickin’ up for your people,” he soothes, his thumb wiping your tear from your face.  He moves his hand to cup your jaw and swipes his thumb gently over your cheek.  His angry eyes softened back to concerned.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you stare at each other, exchanging more communication nonverbally than words could ever.  He’s looking at each of your eyes back and forth, and you feel yourself start to get embarrassed under his hot stare.  You try to turn your head away from his gaze, but his hand stops you.  “You’re alright, darlin’, got nothin’ to be ashamed of here,” he says, reading your mind.  You bring your hand up from the table to gently grasp his arm as a sign of appreciation.  His gaze follows and he swallows loudly.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a genuine, close-lipped smile.  His eyes move to your lips and then quickly dart back to your eyes, like you caught him doing something forbidden.  He removes his hands and stands up, walking over to your side.  He offers a hand to help you up and you accept, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Sorry your first visit back here was so crazy,” you say, and he laughs.  “Hopefully next time it’s not so… exciting.”  He moves his hand up to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it.  A tingle rips up your spine.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be.”  He gives you that same look that he did earlier, the one where you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.  This time, though, you think you know exactly what it means.  Your stomach somersaults.

“I’ll see you soon, darlin’.  Hopefully your day gets better,” he says, turning to walk toward his truck.  Once he gets to the driver’s side door, he turns to look at you again and pauses.  You stand and stare at him, wanting to say something in return, but too overwhelmed by all your emotions.  He smiles and gets in the truck, starting it and driving off while watching you with a small wave.  You smile as he leaves.

Fuck.

Next Chapter

[jaemified]

through the window (21 days) - lee chan

“waiting 21 days isnt so bad if itll always end like this.”

pairing ; lee chan x fem!reader

genre ; fluff but pretty cheesy fluff, strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, not a smau but twt profiles are showed

warnings ; swearing, floods, isolation, separation, chans flirty (thats a warning in itself), reader has zero relationship experience

wordcount ; 2.7k

synopsis ; after a long series of floods, youre finally able to meet the boy across the street who had caught your eye throughout the long few weeks.

note - chan isnt an idol but minnie/soyeon are

note 2 - idk what chan is looking at in that pic

read below the cut !

DECEMBER 8, 2023

winter, also known as flood season.

the town where you lived in was already at a low altitude, so the bridge built to cross over the river to the other side of the street always had submerged during this time of year.

the thing that sucked the most about all this, was you were pretty much rained in for however long it takes for the water to drain with absolutely no way out.

so naturally, you all had came prepared.

your roommates minnie and soyeon never minded all the rain as they hated going in to work at the crack of dawn, yet you however, loved what you did. tutoring a kids after school program wasnt half as bad as the average person might think.

but, of course seeing as they were all a bunch of middle school kids, they could be a handful. you decided to listen to your friends and use these next few weeks to relax.

or, what you thought relaxing was.

“come on y/n! dont you wanna make strawberry shortcake with us?” minnie yelled at you over soyeons loud music while you studied over the next lesson plan for your kids.

“maybe later- i really wanna get a head start on these lessons.”

“seriously y/n?” soyeon murmured in slight disgust, “i seriously doubt the first thing those kids want to be thinking about is what they’re gonna do with their math tutor after a free half month.”

you shrugged and took a sip of your coffee before typing in the highlighted notes from the handbook into your computer.

“come on. youre not spending our one free break of the year like this again!” soyeon exclaimed as she snatched the book out of your hands, then closing your laptop before putting them both away in the cabinet under the tv.

“you know i can just get that myself right?”

“no, because i won’t let you.” she replied, locking the door and putting the key in her pocket.

“come on! im passionate about what i do, i dont mind it at all!”

“me and minnie are passionate about writing songs too, but even we know when its good enough to take a break.”

“okay i know i don’t work half as hard as idols do but i still have bills to come by! besides, corporate management demands i have the next lesson plan finalized before the end of the week!”

“corporates a bitch, they gotta be more mindful of how they treat their employees. like how do you be top tutoring company in the country and you still cant manage your employees the way they deserve?” minnie shouted in frustration.

“and dont worry about bills for now, we got it.” soyeon whispered to you.

“minnie- you realize cube is the same way to you guys right? and you work way harder then i do despite not getting the income you deserve.”

“yeah but we manage. we have a contract anyway. i know we’re passionate about what we do but we most certainly are not passionate about who we work for.” soyeon replied for minnie as she couldn’t hear over the sound of the blender (why was she using a blender again?)

you sigh soaking in how much pressure your friends are under at work, realizing you don’t even have it half as bad despite having a pretty shitty boss.

“how bout you find someone worth crossing an ocean for? itll be half as fun for us as itd be for you, since it’s in our contract we aren’t allowed to date.” minnie spoke after the whirring of the kitchen appliances died down.

“how.. we are entirely stranded until however long it takes for this stupid flood to drain.”

“do some stalking on insta. let’s find you like uh.. celebrity crush or ulzzang you can fan girl over or something.”

you scoffed in annoyance and slight disgust with your friends knowing you never really cared for any of that.

you decided to sit down at the bay window by the front door, scrolling through your phone before something outside caught your eye.

there you saw a guy across the way, sitting in his bay window just like you, he who seemingly just finished receiving a lecture from his friends.

you watched as he ran a hand through his fluffy dark brown hair, before he turned your way, your eyes locking.

immediately, it was part of your instinct to nervously turn away.

before slowly looking back, that is.

there you found the beautiful brown haired boy, still looking at you, with a golden smile.

your heart melted (but you thought you were having palpitations) when you saw him look at you so fondly.

what is this feeling?

you slowly raise a hand, and wave to him shyly.

he waved back, before forming a heart with his arms he held over his head.

you laughed quiet enough so your friends couldn’t hear you, but your facial expressions were bright enough so he could be aware he was able to make you laugh.

the boy laughed in response before he seemed to mouth something, but you weren’t the best at reading lips.

you tilted your head in confusion before he jokingly rolled his eyes, and saying it again, but slower.

“cu-tie.” you realized he said, or attempted to say.

“cu-tie?” you sounded out, making sure you understood right.

he nodded before pointing at you, his finger tapping against the glass, “cutie.”

he absolutely reveled in the way you smiled so brightly, the way your cheeks flushed pink and your eyes sparkled with excitement.

you didnt even realize how you were falling for his charms.

before you were even able to say anything back, his friend came up from behind him, attempting to drag him away, yet the guy was still persistent.

you watched how his friend started to get angry, so the guy rolled his eyes and stood up, walking away with his friend down the hall.

but not before waving back at you, blowing a kiss.

you got up from your seat before wrapping your arms around minnie, resting your head on her shoulder while you spared a small glance at whatever soyeon was watching in the living room.

“hmm? what do you need now my child?” she dramatically questioned, as she knew you only got clingy when you needed something.

“whos that guy that lives across the.. on the other side of the bridge? in that dark brown house with the black roof?”

“oh? house 133 right? thats seokmin, minghao, and.. what’s the other ones name? I always forget.. chan! yeah, chan.”

soyeon jumped up in surprise, pausing her show after hearing you pique your interest at a guy for the first time.

“why? you like one of them? which one? minghao? he was pretty well liked for a foreigner. he was in the same exchange program as minnie. ” she excitedly asked.

“w-what? no! i was just asking cause i saw one of them out there earlier.” you unconvincingly lied.

“oh she totally likes minghao.” “not even!”

“sweetheart, we aren’t as dumb as you think we are.” minnie pouted at you while she pulled away to put the cake in the oven.

you huffed in disbelief before going to take a bag of chips from the pantry, walking down to your room to finish the lesson plan. (on the laptop your boss lent you since soyeon took your personal one).

meanwhile, there you left chan, day dreaming about you all day long. he was so curious about you, yet he felt so stupid for crushing on some girl he’d never spoken to before.

not like he even could at this point, you were stuck in the middle of a flood, anyway.

“whats on your mind channie? you seem out of it.” seokmin asked while he blindly stirred the tteokbokki, turning to face the younger boy behind him, sitting at the kitchen island.

“its chan. whens he not out of it?” minghao chuckled, throwing a chip at his cheek, sliding to sit over at the stool next to him as he emerged from his bedroom.

“who lives in that white house on the other side of the bridge? isnt that where soyeon lives? we went to high school together.” chan half-mindedly queried, zoning out as he stared into the marble counters.

“yeah, why?” minghao responded.

“did she move out or something? there was another girl there and it wasnt soyeon or minnie.”

“oh, you mean y/n? she graduated a year before you or something, but at another school. we used to work at the same tea house before she left for that tutoring agency.”

“y/n? sounds vaguely familiar. i think i remember seungkwan mention her being in his class.”

“why are you mentioning her all of a sudden? you never cared for girls.” seokmin teased with a wide smile.

“oh come on. you know he’s quite the flirt.” minghao playfully cooed at chan, dramatically waving his hand back at seokmin.

“you two are insufferable.” he groaned, banging his head against the counter.

you found yourself up at night, scrolling through twitter before you decided to search for the guy you ‘met’ today. minghao, was it?

‘xu minghao’ was what you had entered into the search bar, clicking on the top result.

‘myunghoez’

‘huh.’ you thought to yourself. so it couldnt be him, but seokmin didnt seem to have an account as you searched for his name.

you looked up chans name next, thinking maybe,, that there could be a chance it’s him. his profile picture was technically him, but not, him. but in your defense, how could you tell who was who if chans profile picture was a baby picture?

though you knew youd never hear the end of it from her, you decided to ask soyeon.

“do you have a picture of chan?”

“yeah hold on. its just an old screenshot from an old tweet though.” she mumbled before pulling up her phone to show you.

‘wow.’ you thought to yourself, ‘so this really was the guy i met today.’

before soyeon could ask any questions, you quickly thanked her and ran back to your room before posting a small something in reference to what minnie had said to you earlier.

days, weeks, went by of you and chan interacting through the window despite never seeing each other up close, or ever hearing the others voice.

but despite being isolated from separately, you still had fallen for one another nonetheless.

you loved the way you would feel butterflies in your stomach whenever he made a heart with his hands for you, and he absolutely adored the way you in the end would just make a big sign telling him what you wanted to say when you gave up on trying to get him to read your lips.

of course the flood had its downside, i mean being stuck with the same 2 other people for almost a month definitely takes a toll on you, isolation definitely can get depressing with no way out.

but in the end, it had its upside as well. you were able to meet a great guy despite never technically talking face to face, having only lip reading to communicate (why didn’t you think of social media?). not to mention you were able to put more time into a forgotten passion after all of your energy being used up as a tutor.

marine animals.

you and chan had technically discussed the idea of possibly having a first date when you get out of here, yet you still hadn’t decided where you’d go or what you’d do seeing as you both were pretty passionate about different things.

chan had always loved the stars, you had always loved marine life. but, you decided you would finalize a date night once you both get to meet face to face.

DECEMBER 29

after a long 21 days of disappointment, spending christmas without your family, 3 going on 4 weeks of crazed loneliness, you finally woke up one morning to find the overflowing river, drained, and to its regular level.

you were able to see the bridge once more and though the wood might be rotting, you just couldnt wait to cross it.

you immediately ran down the hall, dressing however best you could, fixing your hair to be as best as it would go, being sure to brush your teeth and pop in a mint before running straight out the door. (and ignoring all of soyeons questions as well as minnies protests)

as you stepped out the front door, you saw chan just leaving his house looking as beautiful as ever.

you ran straight for the bridge, chan catching you before you could slip on a puddle before he picked you up into a big hug.

“you’re just as gorgeous up close as you were through a window.” he whispered as he pulled you close, his hand cradling the back of your head, pulling it to rest against his chest.

“and you’re still just as much of a flirt arent you?” you chuckled before slightly cringing at your attempt to reciprocate the excitement.

you were excited, believe me, just couldn’t express it as well as he could.

“i cant believe it took 21 days to finally be with you.”

“it was worth the wait wasnt it?”

“you’ll always be worth the wait.” chan mumbled against your skin as he pressed a soft kiss into your cheek.

“cant believe you’re real..” you mumbled, leaning further into his touch.

“cant believe i got someone like you to fall for someone like me.”

“chan you’re so cheesy.”

“only for you.” he replied with that stupid grin you grew to love so much.

the two of you later took the time to talk more about life, each other, finally exchange numbers, then eventually decide what you’d do for your first date night.

“see you tomorrow at 12?”

“tomorrow at 12.”

DECEMBER 30

you practically couldn’t sleep as you bubbled in excitement. you picked out a pretty black dress that went nicely with a random pair of white sneakers before heading out on your way while your roommates were out at work.

“lookin as pretty as always.” chan smiled while he opened his car door for you.

“still as handsome as ever arent you?” you jokingly rolled your eyes as he backed out the parking lot.

you two had many common interests, yet what you were most passionate about definitely was pretty parallel to one another.

chan loved the stars, you loved the sea. so, you decided to go to an aquarium (that also included solar system exhibits), grab some food from a cafe you found out you both loved, go for a late drive to the beach, watch the sunset, then stargaze.

call it cliche but it was perfect for you both.

chan wrapped an arm around you as you both stared into the night sky, all the stars displayed beautifully.

he would point at a random star and say it reminded him of you, because it stood out from the rest, distinct, but perfect in his eyes.

he was the sweetest guy ever, perfectly fitting the standard for what’s considered boyfriend material, almost unrealistic, even.

“youre a person worth crossing an ocean for.” you told him more then truthfully, bringing a hand up to softly stroke his cheek.

“out of all the stars in the sky, youre the only one id pick.” he cringed realizing how corny it was. “too cheesy?”

“just enough.” you reassured, before sealing both yours and his lips into a warm and comforting kiss. chan had never felt safer in another’s embrace.

“waiting 21 days isnt so bad if itll always end like this.”