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hockeylvr59 · 2 years ago

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Here With Me Part 19 || Taylor Makar

Author’s Note: With Taylor in Maine for the weekend and more snow on the way, Kelsey goes home leading to her parents finding out just who her boyfriend is. Taylor gets rewarded for a two goal performance with some phone sex and when the boys get back home on Sunday their relationship takes a big step. FC: Marina Laswick (@marooshk on instagram).

Warnings: cursing, phone sex // Word Count: 3,342

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Eighteen

Kelsey hadn’t stayed over Wednesday night but she had seen Taylor briefly after class Thursday morning before he made his way to the rink to make the drive up to Maine.

With more snow in the forecast and Taylor on the road until midday Sunday, Kelsey made the decision to spend the weekend at home where the insulation was better and she had more ways to stay warm.

After dinner with her parents she headed up to her bedroom and pulled up Taylor’s game on tv while sitting to work on a tie to match his blue pocket square.

Near the end of the first period, Kelsey wanted to strangle her uncle when she saw number 40 out there with 11 and 14 instead of Taylor’s 18. Seriously of those three, T was the one he was going to bench, it was ridiculous.

As the puck was getting ready to drop for the second period her dad stopped at her door with a raised eyebrow.

“Since when do you watch Greg’s team’s games?” He questioned suspiciously, making Kelsey shrug. Her parents knew she was seeing someone but she hadn’t explicitly said that he played for her uncle’s team. Instead she’d said he was an athlete and his schedule was presently busy which was why they couldn’t meet him yet.

None of which was a lie.

Her parents' suspicions grew two and a half minutes into the third period when Kelsey let out a scream of excitement as Taylor flew up the wing with the puck, muscled a man away from him, and chipped the puck five hole. It was the first goal he had scored since before they started dating and it was impossible for her to contain her excitement.

By the time her mom appeared at the door, the replay was over but the message was still clear.

“This athlete of yours is a hockey player isn’t he?” Her mom prompted as her dad also came to her door.

“Yes. I’m dating one of Uncle Greg’s players okay. Now can I please watch the rest of this game?”

“Does your uncle know?” Her dad asked.

“Yes. He knows. Now please?”

Though her parents eyed her for a minute more they stepped out of the room just before Taylor took the ice again. Shooting him a text about his pretty five hole goal she almost missed him as he went flying down the ice again this time providing a screen with his big body as one of the defensemen potted another goal to extend the lead.

Following up her first text she sent him a peach emoji with a winking face because that’s one way to use his ass.

As she continued her hand stitching on Taylor’s birthday tie, Kelsey kept looking up to make sure she didn’t miss him on the ice. With just under ten minutes to go in the game, Umass took the puck into the offensive zone and it found Taylor in the middle of the ice. He pushed it through the defenseman’s feet before burying a second goal behind the Maine goalie.

“Oh my god! Taylor!” She exclaimed happily, shooting him a third text about how he was amazing and he better call her later if he gets the chance.

With Taylor’s goals and the team not choking the second half of the third period, Kelsey was excited with the team’s win as she cleaned up her sewing materials and headed downstairs to get some water.

“Once the season is over we want to meet him.” Kelsey’s dad declared, appearing out of nowhere and making her jump. “But I suppose you certainly could have chosen worse.”

The sarcastic ‘wow thanks’ filled every fiber of Kelsey’s being but she bit her tongue just murmuring that they’d meet him at some point.

“Have you met his family yet?” Her mom added, joining in the ambush.

“No but soon I think.” Kelsey stated, answering the question posed without giving away too much.

“Well just don’t get too involved. You’ve got your own plans and they may not fit with his, not every man is as reliable as your father, especially hockey players.”

Kelsey hated how her parents thought that they were being supportive when really what they were doing was taking digs at her judgment and her choices. She knew that the path might not be easy for her and Taylor but why couldn’t they make it work if they both put in the effort. And it was a little late for her not to get too involved given that she was starting to think she was falling in love with him.

Finishing filling her water bottle, Kelsey just nodded and murmured that she was going to bed.

Closing her door, Kelsey leaned against it with a sigh. Even if her parents meant well, she needed to trust her own heart and mind and make her own decisions. First of which being that there was no way she was having Taylor meet her parents without a sufficient buffer, so she was going to have to talk to her aunt about that sooner rather than later.

Sighing, Kelsey flipped her overhead lights off before stripping down to her pjs and crawling into bed where she grabbed her phone and scrolled through social media while waiting to see if Taylor would call her.

After about twenty minutes her phone rang and seeing Taylor’s contact photo on her screen Kelsey grinned, answering immediately.

“Well that was a hell of a game.” She declared as a greeting. “Two goals Taylor. That’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.”

“I got some good set ups.” Taylor declared before quickly changing the subject. “You handling the cold okay?”

“The cold, yeah, came home for the weekend. My parents…eh.”

“Everything okay Kels?” He asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah T. They’re just being them, it's fine.” Kelsey assured him. “Wish you weren’t so far away though. Why is it you score for the first time since we start dating when you’re five hours away? Making it awful hard for celly sex there T.”

Taylor chuckled for a moment before groaning softly.

“As much as I’d love to go down that line of conversation and trust me I would love it, Mercs is here and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t forgiven me yet for Tuesday.”

“My ears are still burning.” Lucas’s voice chipped in from across the room, his tone salty.

Kelsey laughed for a minute before dropping her voice into a sultry tone.

“Can you get rid of him?”

Taylor coughed after choking and then sighed. “Sorry Kels.”

“You can wait and fuck him on Sunday…geeze Kels.” Lucas chastised.

“Taylor, just go into the bathroom please?” Kelsey requested softly, not in the mood to deal with his roommates remarks anymore.

“Yeah. Gimme a second.” Taylor mumbled, throwing off the blankets on the bed before padding to the hotel bathroom and locking the door behind him.

Sinking to the floor he pressed the little icon to change the call into a facetime and he smiled as Kelsey’s gorgeous face appeared on his screen after a moment.

“There’s my handsome boyfriend.” Kelsey grinned talking softly, taking in Taylor’s tired but soft face. “You don’t know the things I wanted to do to you seeing those sexy goals.”

“That right?” Taylor murmured, enjoying the sight of his girlfriend all snuggled up as she started talking about things Mercs definitely did not need to hear.

As she talked about how it wasn’t fair Mercs got to be the one to jump him and how she wouldn’t have minded being Maine’s goalie with his ass in her face, Taylor couldn’t help but groan softly at how sexy she sounded and how he wanted to be in her space like that.

“Yeah. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” She teased softly. “You gonna get hard for me, touch yourself?”

Teasing about how he had increased his prowess between the legs, Kelsey watched as Taylor’s cheeks pinkened and the camera shook a little as he likely palmed himself.

“Let me see T.” She requested, softly. “You like having phone sex with me don’t you? Is this something we’re going to have to do more often?”

“Keep talking Kels.” Taylor requested, shifting his phone to reveal the head of his dick peeking out from his briefs and shorts.

“Fuck T. You don’t know how bad I want you.” Kelsey breathed, sneaking her own hand between her legs to lazily stroke her clit. “If I were there I’d be gently scraping over you with my nails before taking you in hand stroking you exactly the way I know you like it.”

At her words Taylor groaned again softly and pulled himself fully from the restraints of his clothing, his fingers wrapping around himself to stroke in that same manner.

Kelsey couldn’t help but lick her lips seeing him hard and heavy.

“Looks so good T. Fuck.” She mumbled before letting silence wash over them for a moment as they both focused on pleasuring themselves. Though Taylor’s moans were quiet, they shot straight to Kelsey’s core and she moaned softly in response.

“God kels.” He breathed after a moment. “Please tell me you’re touching yourself too.”

“Yeah T. Wish it were your hands but still feels so good.”

“Shit. I’m gonna cum.” He mumbled, hissing softly.

“Yeah T let me see it.” Kelsey encouraged. “So sexy when you cum for me.”

The jolts of semen spilled from Taylor’s cock and Kelsey moaned again, rubbing her clit harder until a small orgasm shook through her as well.

“Holy shit Kels.”

“Yeah.” She replied happily, those blissful hormones making her stretch lazily. “Thanks for calling T.”

His chuckle made her grin even brighter.

“You’re amazing Kels. Definitely don’t need to thank me for that.” As he lifted the phone back up her gaze grew soft seeing the spent expression on his face.

“Go get some sleep T so you can do it all over again tomorrow.” Kelsey urged softly. “I’m proud of you and I love watching you do what you love.”

“Night Kels. Miss you.”

“Miss you too T.”

****

UMass had pulled out another win in a much tighter game Saturday night and Kelsey and Taylor had texted back and forth a little bit before bed discussing possible plans for Sunday depending on when the bus got back and the restrictions in place with UMass dorms for Blarney weekend.

Though nothing was set in stone, Taylor was texting Kelsey updates including an ETA upon leaving Sunday morning. Around 11am, Kelsey’s phone buzzed with another message.

Taylor: Must be an accident or something up ahead, currently stuck in traffic.

Kelsey: Hopefully it picks up soon.

Taylor: ETA bumped by like an hour, boys are pissed. Everyone just wants to get home.

Kelsey: I get that. That sucks.

Around 12:30 another burst of messages came through.

Taylor: Made it through the backup and stopped for food but apparently everyone else had the same idea because the lines are insane.

Kelsey: I’m sorry bud.

Taylor: What a downer on the weekend. Supposed to be back at Mullins by like 4 but then everyone is going to need to clean off cars so it’s going to take longer to get home which no one is happy about.

Kelsey: We don’t have to hang out tonight if you just want to go home and chill T, I’m not gonna be upset.

Taylor: Still wanna see you Kels.

Kelsey: Then we’ll figure something out when you get home.

Taylor replied with a thumbs up and then their conversation went quiet. The travel delays weren’t something that Kelsey could control, but the snow on cars was. Making a decision, Kelsey moved to finish up a little last minute machine sewing on Taylor’s present before packing up her things to head back to campus.

By the time she said goodbye to her parents and cleared off her car it was two o’clock and she made her way back to Amherst headed not for her mod but rather the parking lot at Mullins.

Pulling all of the winter gear she’d shed during the 45 minute drive back on, Kelsey turned her car off and pocketed her keys before grabbing her snow scraper/brush and moving to whoever’s car was next to her.

For the next hour or so, she methodically made her way through the cars in the lot, cleaning the snow and ice off of them so that they were drivable.

By the time the bus pulled in, she only had like 2 cars left and was working to clear them as quickly as possible.

On the bus, a few guys were starting to realize that they were back as the bus slowed and when they looked out the windows, eyes went wide.

“No way! Someone cleared off all our cars.”

“Wait what?!” More voices piped in as they heard the exclamations and shifted to look out the windows for themselves.

“Who the fuck…?”

Taylor sat up and looked away from his phone having texted Kels that they were almost home with no response, something which was a little odd unless she was currently driving herself. Peering out the window to see what all the fuss was about, low and behold every car in the lot was clear sans one that had a bundled up figure hovering over it.

As they slowly made their way off the bus, Taylor’s eyes fell on Kelsey’s car parked next to Koops’ and he blinked looking for the person who had been cleaning off the car. They were certainly the right size to be Kelsey and that coat was familiar and it suddenly all clicked.

He had texted her about the guys not being happy about cleaning cars off and here she was doing it for the entire team. It may have been a bit warmer out but it wasn’t that warm and she loathed the cold.

Mumbling some form of ‘be right back’ Taylor jogged across the lot as Kelsey was making her way back toward her car.

“All of this was you?” He asked, his voice awestruck as he reached her. She might have a tough exterior sometimes and god forbid you piss her off, but she really did have the biggest heart and just wanted to make people’s lives better.

Not giving her the chance to respond because the answer lay in the brush she was grasping, Taylor cupped her pink cheeks in both of his hands and kissed her deeply. Kelsey’s eyes were wide with surprise by the time he broke the kiss, pulling her tightly against him into a hug as they both caught their breath.

“God I love you Kelsey.” He blurted out unable to keep all of those feelings inside any longer. He’d never met anyone as amazing as she was and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was in deep for her. “I love you so goddamn much.”

Kelsey gasped at Taylor’s words, an ‘oh my god’ running through her mind over and over. It had been beyond her wildest imagination that he would say those three words anytime soon. As she pulled back just enough to look at him, the expression on his face hit her like a ton of bricks. That look at the hockey game, the same one that he’d given her when she was teasing him about liking her, the one she hadn’t been able to quite define, it was this look, a look that she now knew screamed ‘I love you.’

In a matter of seconds images flooded through her mind, and she knew as much as she had tried to downplay her feelings for him, prevent herself from getting too attached too quickly, there was no other way to describe what she felt for him than that she loves him too.

“You don’t have to say it back.” Taylor whispered only to be silenced by Kelsey’s kiss, as deep and fierce as the one he’d planted on her.

“I love you too Taylor.” She breathed against his lips as the kiss broke. “And it’s a little scary because I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

Lifting her off her feet, Taylor swung her around, his body vibrating with happiness. “You really love me?” He asked against her shoulder.

“I love you Tay.” She confirmed.

“She loves me!” He exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of all of his teammates still unloading the bus and making Kelsey giggle. After all, it would be pointless to tell him not to shout it from the mountaintops because he was going to anyway…and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Wouldn’t have him any other way.

Kissing him again, Kelsey basked in the pure joy of the moment.

The thump of a bag hitting the ground by their feet pulled them from their little bubble and Kelsey looked toward the sound. “Here T, take your shit.” Mikey declared. “Thanks for clearing the cars off Kelsey.”

Blushing a bit, Kelsey nodded her acknowledgement as Taylor gathered his bag off the ground.

“Come on Kels, let’s go warm up at your place.”

Letting him lace his fingers in her gloved ones, Kelsey guided Taylor back to her car and tossed the brush into the backseat. Then she pulled her keys out of her pocket and started the engine as she slipped into the driver’s seat, hoping it wouldn’t take too long for the hot air to start pumping through the vents.

The drive back to her mod wasn’t long and was spent with Taylor’s fingers tangled with hers as she drove. When they got back, Taylor helped to grab her weekend bag and they headed inside waving briefly at her roommates before dipping into her room.

There, Taylor proceeded to strip her from her outerwear before pulling her into a hug once more.

“I don’t know about you but I need to use the bathroom before we get too comfy.” Kelsey murmured knowing that Taylor wouldn’t like that but that he’d like it even less if she needed to get up once they were settled.

So pulling herself from his grasp, Kelsey made her way to the bathroom to pee and freshen up a little after sweating while cleaning cars. Then she traded spots with Taylor who had evidently decided he might as well go as well.

Turning down the covers on her bed, Kelsey slipped under them and waited for her boyfriend to return.

As soon as he did, he almost launched himself in beside her making Kelsey laugh as he buried his head in her shoulder, snaking his arms around her waist and tangling his legs with hers.

“Alright koala bear, I’m not going anywhere.” She murmured lightly stroking fingers through his hair.

She could feel him raise his eyebrows against her skin and after a moment he lifted his head.

“Koala bear?” He questioned, confused.

“Yes Tay, you’re my koala bear, my cuddly clingy boy.”

“I feel like I should be offended.” Taylor mumbled, chuckling.

Kissing him softly, Kelsey tangled her fingers in his hair.

“I love that you’re cuddly T. Just like I love you. It’s a term of affection.” Kelsey assured him softly.

“You love me.” He breathed, his whole body relaxing hearing those words fall from her lips once again. “You really love me.”

“Yes, my koala, I love you.”

Snuggling into Taylor, Kelsey basked in the shift in their relationship. It was crazy to think how three small words could change so much while changing nothing at all. After all, they had merely voiced the truth that had been right there under the surface for who knows how long. But at the same time, everything felt different, more settled, more real.

So much of the future was still unclear but Taylor had filled a hole within her that Kelsey didn’t even realize had existed. There was certainly no place and no one she would rather be than right here right now with him.

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koalala700 · 5 months ago

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Dear Adin,

I decided that something helpful for myself to help with the healing process is to write you letters you'll never read and I want to send but never will.

It's been about 377 days since the breakup and almost four months since you let me know you were moving forward in life and letting go.

In the weekend that followed, I saw you had moved on with a new girl.

In the weekend that followed, I threw myself back into Tinder hoping it would be a distraction. As I'm sure you can imagine, it was a pretty terrible one. But you know me and the spiraling and how that usually goes.

At this point, I have: changed my own oil, learned how to hold and aim a gun properly, put together furniture unassisted, realized I still love kids and that even the messy/hard parts make me smile, rescued over a dozen cats, drove to Orlando and back alone, kayaked down a river with gators (saw several including a baby), gotten another promotion, learned how to pop the lock in my gas door from the back, have been more observant, learned to care more about my own opinion of myself than others, cried a little less every day, made choices without depending on a second opinion, taken care of myself alone for over a year.

I'm sure that doesn't cover it all but these are the things I could think of at 10:30 on Wednesday night.

I still miss you every day, I still think of you at least once every day, and I know that I'm still in love with you even though it hurts to do so.

I'm finally going back to Clearwater. It's funny and painful. I always thought we'd be doing this together, but I'm happy I have the chance to do so.

I've accepted that kids may not be in my future and it's hard to imagine doing it with anyone else. But I've learned it's okay to let go of dreams we've always wanted, it's okay to keep pushing forward and discover new dreams.

I finally went to a good salon and got my hair cut. I haven't had bangs (curtain bangs anyway) in a long, long time. I don't think my bangs have been short like this since sixth grade.

I had the realization that my sex drive wasn't high because I'm a nympho, it was because of you.

I realized that while I adopted a lot of your hobbies, they're also mine too.

I have kept pictures of us, gifts you've given me and I don't know yet if I'll ever let them go. I still have the flowers you sent me on Valentine's Day. The last ones you'll ever give me. I still have the last anniversary present (at least I think it was an anniversary present) of the stars the night you asked me to be your girlfriend.

You may have always told me it's not healthy to hold on to the past, but these were good memories and I don't think I'll ever be the girl who can let those go.

I've hit the point where I've fully accepted where I failed you too. I've accepted my own regrets, the things I wish I had done better, and all the things I wish I had told you but never did.

I know why I left, I understand that my trust was broken and I was afraid I'd never be able to repair it. And while you felt that kissing another girl, talking to another girl, and as I now know, flirting with other girls at the club, wasn't cheating, or at least, something we could move past, I realized I never would. I may forgive you but I don't know that I'd ever have been able to trust you ever again.

It just hurts so bad to know that you always wanted to have kids with me but didn't have enough faith in me to believe I wouldn't have left you after we had it all. It hurts to be doing all the things I wanted to do with you, without you. But I guess that's where we are now.

It hurts to know that in a little over a month, this would have been 13 years. It hurts that October 21st is just another day in the calendar now. That I will never get to wish you happy birthday again, that I'll never get to be with you to celebrate your triumphs, support you through your bad, and sleep by your side every night, and love you until death separates us and we're reunited in the earth, buried side by side. It hurts that I'll never hear you call me 'bishcake' ever again.

I'm sure I will always love you. I'm sure it will always hurt just a little. I'm not sure if I'll ever see you again but I hope you're happy. I hope you get everything you ever wanted out of life. I may not be there anymore but in another life...

In another life, we're laughing over dinner together.

In another life, we're coming up with a grocery list and doing laundry

In another life, we are up late talking about everything and anything like we used to do

In another life.. ah, well, we made it the distance.

Maybe it was meant to be, maybe it wasn't.

But every memory, the good, the bad, the crazy, will be part of my soul and I'll carry with me for the rest of eternity.

And if I never see you again, I hope, in another life, or the after life, we meet each other again with a smile. At peace with one another.

Be happy, be full of love, and get everything you ever wanted.

And I'll learn to do the same without you.

I love you, bishcake. Until our souls cross again.

Wishing you nothing but the best as I continue to find peace in myself and keep healing. One day at a time.

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noosesurroundsme · 1 year ago

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sh and s stuff

I am really struggling to keep going. I can't get out of this rut I've been stuck in. Ever since late '22 when that stuff happened at work and I broke my sh free for a year streak I haven't been able to stop. It's not consistent but I feel awful that I'm still doing the same things I did when I was 13 or 14 to deal with my emotions when I'm 26 going on 27. I can't stop it. I did it twice with in a few hours at work on Wednesday, in a new place on my body. I did it yesterday. I hate it but it's working again. I was able to smile and laugh and have a good time on Wednesday after.

I feel bad realizing that it's almost been 6 years since the sh accident where I almost died and this whole time my mom and the rest my family thought I stopped. I also realized a couple days ago that I hit a mile stone of 10 years since I tried to hang myself November of '13. I thought that would make me feel good that I forgot, but I've been thinking about my 27th birthday and how little I want to be around after it.

I'm tired of feeling alone. I hate my existence. All I've ever wanted was to feel normal. I despise my identity. It's fucking awful. I just want to be seen as a woman and nothing else, and I am but having to tell people ruins everything. J doesn't want anything to do with me. He made it seem like he was fine with it, but he says he can't get over the night I came out to him. He will still say he doesn't see me as any different, but he "knows what I used to be." It don't understand how he can see me like every other woman but not at the same time. It hurts. He is hurting because he wishes he could love me like he wanted to before I told him and doesn't want to see me. He says he still wants me in his life but doesn't want to be around me. I want to run away and drive my car off a bridge or cut my s scar on my arm open. Idk how people can be proud to be trans, especially in our current political climate in the US. I feel like a fucking freak.

I am sick of life at home. My mom told me my youngest brother wanted a shelf put up in his closet last month, so I took down all of the old stuff and started making the new stuff. Every time he's screaming at me how I spend all this time on my Camaro restoration like I haven't been caught up doing home projects all year too and he only just told my mom he wanted me to do his closet. He screamed at me because it's not getting done fast enough, but I basically only have two days a week to work on it. I got it to the point that all the mud work was done so he could paint it and he still isn't done 3 weeks later. It's also been below 0 all week, our attic isn't heated so I can't sand and stain the pieces up there. My other brother (the middle one) is being a petty to me because last week Saturday when we got 15 inches of snow I didn't clean off his car (that's been sitting with a blown engine since April) and the little pathway around it, so he took the snow from his car and threw it on my trailer with my parts car for the Camaro. When my mom yelled at him for it because she saw it the same time I did, he told her I was being petty by not cleaning that area. I just hadn't gotten that far yet, I moved the trailer to make it easier for him but I had to fill the tires. The garage door wouldn't close after doing that because of the cold. I was planning to do it, but he started on the car before I could. No matter how hard I try, everyone still hates me. I'm sick of life.

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baenxietydad · 2 years ago

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The Mess Inside (selfpara) -- May Task 2023

Task: Write a one-shot where your character mourns the loss of something or someone significant to them.

Word Count: 1410

Mu-yeol was grateful for his son’s absence this month. May 2023 marked another anniversary of the month his world fell apart and the last thing he wanted was for his son to ever worry about him again. Nemo didn’t need to see how he had to sit down to eat even though he didn’t feel hungry, or how he poured over So-yeon’s journals he’d already had memorized by now because it almost felt like she was there, or even how really he was so much better than he’d been in May in the past. Nam-min shouldn’t worry about his father, and he shouldn’t even notice how much better he was doing, so when Nemo asked out of habit Mu-yeol was honest enough when he said “I’m all right, don’t worry about it.”

He was all right and Nemo didn’t need to know any more than that.

So it was a good thing that Mu-yeol was home alone on a Wednesday evening, carefully sipping his tea so as not to spill it on the journal open in his lap. His fingers lingered at the top corner of the page, resisting the desire to slide the pads over her words as if they were some physical representation of her. He didn’t want to fade the blue pen ink more than it already had been. The familiar emptiness in his chest ached less than it did most years, even if he could still feel it. He could live with that.

This May was different both for Nam-min’s absence and for the ongoing investigation into her murder happening in Korea. Pixies typically viewed death as a good thing, a natural part of life, but that was because almost all pixies die of old age after living full and mostly happy lives. The impermanence of life, like how even ancient trees one day will die, was something pixies appreciated. But pixies do not die young like So-yeon did. They aren’t murdered like So-yeon was. Murder isn’t– it’s not something pixies do. It’s not something pixies generally know how to handle. Mu-yeol had enough time since March to sit with his feelings regarding the murder investigation and he’d come to the conclusion he was very glad it was happening. Someone should be punished for altering the course of his son’s life. He and Nemo shouldn’t be the only ones suffering.

As he sat alone with So-yeon’s journals, he couldn’t identify one single emotion he felt. There were tinges of anger of course, and conversely a sense of peace. He felt in his throat the urge so sob, but he was smiling as he read her writing about their son’s upcoming second birthday party.

I’ve invited Icy, Dita, Yuma, Joy, Caleb, Tao, Eric and Cynthia, Johnny, Hanako, Da-som, Loan, Mimi, Geum-seong, the downstairs Auntie, and little Mi-yeon and her parents. My sister and Won-shik are coming too of course. Da-som pointed out that there would be at least as many foreigners as Koreans and that makes me happy that my family has become family to our foreigner friends. Mu-yeol is even taking the night off work to have cake with us.

Nam-min is so little, he won’t remember this party, but I think it’s important we celebrate him anyway. He deserves to be celebrated for lovingly tolerating his parents who foolishly had him so young because we couldn’t wait for him. Nam-min is just as responsible for my accomplishments as my studying. Because of Nam-min, I cannot fail, I cannot commit to my Ph.D halfway, because earning my Ph.D and securing a professorship will give him and Mu-yeol a good life. Until I can give them that life, I’ll make sure we celebrate the little things like our son’s second birthday. Our Nam-min is growing so fast but at the same time not fast enough. I wish I could put him on pause this little, but also have a sneak preview of what he’ll be like when he’s old enough to share his opinions with me and argue with us. What will be the first thing that makes him shout at me, ‘Eomma! I hate you!’ When will he start to point at clothes and say ‘Eomma, Appa, I want the one with the kitty on it!’ I wonder what music he’ll insist on listening to when he’s tired of Eomma and Appa’s Alanis Morisette, Lee Hyori, and The Mountain Goats. I’m impatient to know these things but greedy for my baby to stay a baby who loves his parents and can only fall asleep if Eomma is holding him and Appa is singing to him.

As accompanied many of her journal entries, there were drawings in the margins. A cake with a lit candle of the number ‘2.’ Little stick figure representations of a few of their international friends with their flags over their heads - Dita from Indonesia, Yuma from Japan, Tao from China, and Johnny from Canada. A stick figure of him with earphones on and the caption ‘Mu-yeol listening to All Hail West Texas again.

Mu-yeol huffed a laugh and flipped the page to a selection of pictures glued to the next few pages, pictures from Nemo’s second birthday party. His eyes were instantly drawn to the one of So-yeon laughing and holding Nam-min with his face covered in cake. Dita was captured, frozen in time, reaching for a napkin on the table to help wipe his face.

A few entries later, So-yeon wrote about her feelings after a fairy rights protest they had attended.

I’m exhausted. I’m tired of begging my country to acknowledge that my family belongs in it. At the same time, neither Mu-yeol nor I want to leave. Korea is our home. We want to bring our son up here because our pixie son deserves to be here just as much as human children do. If we didn’t love our home we wouldn’t fight for it as hard as we are. I see signs of progress, things are changing! Some new laws are going through the National Assembly right now streamlining the process for pixies to apply for citizenship if they didn’t have it at birth like I did. A pixie ran for the National Assembly in a district in Jeollanam-do and he barely lost. I think my son will grow up in a very different Korea than his father and I did and for that I’m optimistic. That doesn’t make me any less tired. If it wasn’t for my husband who manages to be so full of joy despite how hard we struggle to make a better future for Nam-min, I think I would be an angrier person than I am.

Mu-yeol always found it difficult not to cry reading that. He wasn’t the person So-yeon loved anymore, he hadn’t been him in a long time. Sometimes he wondered if she’d be disappointed that Nemo didn’t grow up in Korea, that he had to work very hard to have good pronunciation, and that he only ever really spoke their language with him at home. Leaving felt like giving up on So-yeon’s fight for a Korea more friendly toward fairies sometimes.

Between some of the next pages was a dried mugunghwa, a hibiscus flower, that little Nemo had plucked and put in his mother’s hair on one of their walks through the park near their apartment. Mu-yeol smiled, remembering how he clapped his little hands and chirped “Eomma neomu ippeuda!” all proud of himself for giving her a flower.,

He dabbed at his watery eyes as he realized his tea was empty, setting the empty cup down as he opened another one of her journals, hoping she’d forgive him for reading them to feel close to her since he lost her.

He almost wished it was in fairy culture to observe jesa, to offer food to your late loved ones the way the Moons did. Instead he read her journals which she kept religiously, studied her drawings both the haphazard stick figures and the beautifully done sketches, and was relieved he got to sit with her alone this year.

Mu-yeol frowned as it grew too dark to read in his Hollow home, leaving the journal he stopped at on top of the stack of them. He thought, before getting up, that Nemo might like to read the one he’d just finished next to practice his reading as it contained a lot of Little Nam-min stories he’d surely love.

#swyntask

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cafeseoulmate · 2 years ago

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mastermind

princess diaries-inspired modern royalty au, enemies to lovers au; wc: 1.9k; warnings for cursing

Funny enough, the first time you met Choi Yeonjun was also at a ball. Two weeks ago, actually. It was your 21st birthday and your parents made you dance with all of the eligible bachelors in attendance as per tradition, including the boy with the mischievous glint in his eyes and the cocky smirk.

You flirted. He flirted. You're quite sure he almost leaned in to ask you to sneak out too had Kang Taehyun not approached the two of you for his turn at the dance.

But you weren't aware of who he was that time, much less of the fact that he's the heir to the dukedom of Gyeonggi-do and the eldest of the Gyeonggi-do Choi clan which descended from the royal family your ancestors overthrew centuries ago. You can't admit it to anyone now, especially in light of recent revelations, but you may or may not have been too distracted by his looks even at the end of that night to ask your personal assistant about him.

So having to dance with him again, in another ball strategically organized as a PR stunt to ease the public’s opinion on the current succession crisis, only one thing keeps running through your head: fuck Choi Yeonjun and his ridiculously attractive features.

"Stop frowning." Said demon spawn whispers dangerously close to your ear, following his words with a pinch of your waist that almost has you yelping loudly. "They're still taking photos."

You can only imagine how it looks like from the guests' point of view, especially your own mother, Yeonjun’s mother the Duchess of Gyeonggi-do, and the palace's head publicist, Director Kim, who've been sipping wine in a corner together like vultures since Yeonjun invited you out to the dance floor.

As the current faces of your respective families, you have to act like you’re on amicable terms with each other, like it was still last weekend when the press mistook the two of you as being flirtatious with each other.

So your first instinct is to feign the most sickeningly sweet smile as you tilt your face away and look up at him, chuckling genuinely when he visibly fights the urge to cringe.

"Sorry, I just can't help it." You shrug, taking it upon yourself to lead the waltz while he's momentarily caught off-guard. "This isn't really the best of times, isn't it? Not like last Saturday, when you could've clued me in on some things so we wouldn't have to be in this situation."

You move the two of you in a circle so that your back is now turned away from the three women watching your every move, Yeonjun retaliating by then waltzing the two of you to the other side of the hall.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not really the type to show my family tree on the first meeting." He replies dryly, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he twirls you. "And we're in this ball because you stomped on my foot and had my seat secretly removed at the East Asian Summit on Wednesday.“

"Because you didn't tell me that you're from the family who's trying to take the crown." You roll your eyes without care, scoffing when Yeonjun reprimands you under his breath. "But you were shameless enough to follow me to Tokyo and pretend like you're also representing the Crown. You kind of deserved it."

Yeonjun sighs in exasperation, hands unconsciously squeezing your own harder. "I already told you, that was Parliament sending me there last minute because of th—God, why am I even explaining myself to you?" He then stops the waltz as the live string quartet also ends their piece, staring you down instead of turning to the stage and clapping for the performers like everyone else. "Look, believe me or not, I really don't give that much of a shit for the throne, at least not in the same way as my parents. Everything up until now—my family's claim, the Summit incident, the ball—has been because of our families' centuries-long feud over the throne and Parliament members being a bunch of disorganized assholes."

He then moves you away from the dance floor as another song begins to play, gentler this time with his hands almost feather-light on your upper arms. "If it were up to me, I'd just inherit the dukedom from my father quietly and go back to the U.S. come Spring to resume my Master's. The throne has you as a living immediate heir, anyway, so why should I try to insert myself in that?" He continues, eyes softening while your glare hardens. "But my parents have sticks up their asses and want to push me into this while Parliament's pushing you to marry in a month as per old succession laws so until then, whether we like it or not, you're stuck with me at public events."

You hear another faint click of a camera in the distance and his first instinct is to cover you by moving to the direction of the camera.

And then, the stupidest, craziest idea comes to mind—one that will definitely make the King and Queen of South Korea order your head on a silver platter tomorrow at the latest but at least Director Kim would be a bit impressed with.

"What if you marry me?"

Yeonjun furrows his brows, expressing what seems to be genuine concern and maybe even alarm for the first time since you’ve met. "Excuse my language, Your Highness, but what in the actual fuck now?"

You also want to ask yourself the very same question as you observe his reaction turn worse as the question lingers but you eventually swallow your pride anyway and continue, pointing to yourself. "I need to get married in a month so Parliament and the rest of the country would approve of my succession because of old boomer laws." You then point to him after. "Your family wants you to be King because you’re descended from the King my ancestor overthrew. It’s two birds with one stone.”

“Technically, I’ll be King consort, then—“

“The first thing we’ll do is change that if your parents really insist.” You retort immediately, feeling your mouth moving quicker than your brain is processing any of your own words. You don’t even notice Yeonjun’s ears turning pink when you refer to yourselves as a collective ‘we,’ as if you noticed the usage yourself as you speak quickly and in hushed tones. “Well, I mean, I’ll abolish the marriage law first but it’s—okay, your title’s the second thing I’ll handle!”

Yeonjun gathers his composure again and squints his eyes suspiciously at you, crossing his arms in thought as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “But you made it apparent to me the whole week that you hate me and, I quote, would make it legal for yourself to hang me by my toes in the courtyard with your head of security.” He points out. “Why should I agree to this?”

“Well clearly, I’ve changed my mind and we don’t really have that much of a choice in this situation.” You scoff, mirroring his crossed arms stubbornly. “If you really were being sincere just now in that you don’t want any part in our families’ drama as much as I’m pretty much over all the hoops I have to go through to take the Crown, we’ll have to be smarter in going about this. That’s just how it is in this court.

“Now, it’s not the most ideal proposition but it’s probably our best option right now, given I’m the only one who’s doing the thinking so far. The worst case scenario of this whole fiasco is that a long and legal court battle between our families would happen which could be bad PR for the Crown and very unproductive of South Korea.

“You can walk away from my offer and continue being a pawn in your parents’ schemes without any insider ally, I don’t really care. Or, we can make this work: we’ll get married at the end of the month, change the laws on the throne and succession via marriage, and go off on our separate ways as a married couple. I can rule on my own and you can leave whenever you want, just have staff ready to carry your work when you do and occasionally arrange for public appearances as King.”

He thinks it through for a moment, gaze darting down to his dress shoes with his lips pursed and his right hand tapping on his left bicep rhythmically.

So in the same silence, you also contemplate on your own offer. To be fair, outside all of the succesion drama, the Gyeonggi-do Choi family isn’t all that bad: they rule over their province exceptionally well your parents mostly are friendly and civil with each other outside the discussions on the history of the South Korean throne post-World War II. You would know, you majored majored in Diplomacy and International Relations like most noble children and took a minor in History specifically for this very situation.

Yeonjun, on the other hand, though you’ve only known him for a week at this point (debatably even shorter than that since he did keep his title and family background a secret until just this Wednesday) seems like a decent guy. From your first dance, you’ve gathered that he’s taking a Master’s in Political Science at Harvard, dances pretty well, and seems to genuinely care about making a difference as a ruler like you.

And, fine, he’s also attractive as hell and a true gentleman whenever you’re not bickering or stomping his foot in front of other Asian state leaders.

What could go wrong?

“If it’s too complicated, then forget i—“

“I’ll do it.”

At the same time, a trio of female guests pass by, the tallest one in the pink ballgown accidentally bumping shoulders with you and almost causing you to topple over.

Yeonjun catches you by the arm just in time, steadying you with another hand to your own. “Are you okay?”

“Are you serious?” You ask back, unconsciously holding onto his arm as you stand straight once more. “You’ll do it?”

“We’ll have to discuss my role as King first since you mentioned that you’ll change the laws on consorts. We’ll have to ensure that my parents are satisfied with it and that my responsibilities are laid out clear for me to follow well.” He answers, belatedly letting go of you with an awkward cough. “And we’ll have to discuss how we’ll navigate the marriage, too, since it’s more out of convenience than choice. That, and a bunch of other marriage and business contingencies.”

You nod in agreement, already feeling an unfamiliar weight on your shoulders as your offer slowly sets itself in motion. “We’ll have to learn to trust each other first too, more than right now. I’ll need to know that you won’t overthrow me the second your title and power are changed from consort to King.” You add with a raised brow, extending your hand out for a handshake that should seal the deal. “Personally, even with the stunt you pulled off this week, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt as early as now if you’d give me the same. So do we have a deal?”

Instead of shaking your hand as you expected, however, he takes your hand in his to pull you closer until you’re chest to chest with him before planting a kiss directly on your lips.

��Deal.” He smirks against your wide eyes and slacked jaw, immediately taking the opportunity to plant another kiss to your parted mouth. “How about we sneak away and discuss this more in the garden? This is also the perfect time to disappear and leave everyone hanging.”

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oceanblueeyesoul · 2 years ago

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hi love! i hope you're having a great day!

i was wondering if i could get a romantic match up for wednesday, stranger things, and hsmtmts? :) thank you in advance!

i use they/them/she/her pronouns. my mbti is INFJ-T. i'm a leo sun, aquarius moon, and a libra rising (i obviously love astrology). i love to read, write, bake/cook, listen to music, sing, act, cloud watching, gardening, stargazing, pointing out constellations, and staring at the moon. i loove animals. im a baby witch which ties a lot into my personality. i love crystals, incense, anything shiny. my love language is touch or acts of service, sometimes gifting. i'm about 5'0 with long ginger hair, the underside dyed purple. i have freckles alllll over. i normally wear more comfy clothes, especially if it's a lazy day. i wear glasses all the time except for when i'm sleeping. i have two nose piercings, a nostril and a septum, along with a huge tattoo on my thigh and a small one on my wrist. i almost always have music playing in the background wherever i am because it keeps me sane. im often in the position of mom-friend. i always have bandaids and tylenol with me. i'm the bubbly type, but i have my bad days. i need a lot of reassurance due to anxiety.

i don't have anyone i would be uncomfortable being shipped with! thank you again in advance! ♥︎ :)

Hi there, sweetie! I really hope you like this a lot!

Wednesday (Netflix) Matchup

Your Wednesday (Netflix) soulmate is...

ENID SINCLAIR!!!

The two of you would definitely be petting all the animals in the forest and woods because the two of you loves animals so much.

The two of you would definitely be cloud watching in the open paddock and to watch the clouds changing shapes in the blue sky is so magical.

The two of you would be singing and acting together in a play or a talent show in the school musical productions and also you like to hear each other's voices singing.

ESFP x INFJ soulmates!

Sagittarius x Leo sweethearts!

Stranger Things Matchup

Your Stranger Things soulmate is...

JONATHAN BYERS!!!

The two of you would definitely be cooking and baking sweets together for the party members, everyone else and you two because it is much more fun baking together than it is individual work.

The two of you would listen to music together because you guys would just dance to the music together and just having fun with each other.

The two of you would look at the stars together and just staring at the moon and love all things in the night sky because it looks more beautiful in the night time than in the day time.

ISFP x INFJ lovebirds!

Taurus x Leo sweethearts!

HSMTMTS Matchup

Your HSMTMTS soulmate is...

ASHLYN CASWELL!!!

The two of you would be talking about astrology together and also the two of you would buy each other crystals for both of your birthday or anniversary together.

The two of you are always in the school musical productions together because the two of you loves to be in the spotlight for your singing and acting skills.

The two of you would definitely be pointing at the constellations in the sky so that the two of you could see the zodiac signs' constellations together.

ENFJ x INFJ soulmates!

Libra x Leo sweethearts!

#oceanblueeyesoul #matchups #wednesday netflix #wednesday netflix matchups #enid sinclair #enid sinclair x reader #stranger things #stranger things matchups #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #hsmtmts #hsmtmts matchups #ashlyn caswell #ashlyn caswell x reader

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favefandomimagines · 4 years ago

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Oh (e.b.)

Summary: buck runs into his ex fling, taylor kelly, leaving you to feel like nothing but a second choice

AN: inspired by the winter finale of 911

You were a catch. You were smart, had a good job, beautiful. Guys were lining up to date you and yet the man you wanted to be with didn’t want you.

It seemed to everyone around you that the two of you were meant to be but to Buck, it wasn’t that obvious. He didn’t see how you looked at him, didn’t hear how you talked about him. Clearly, he didn’t know how you felt about him.

So, you stuck it out. You put your feelings on the back burner and just decided to be his friend. If he wanted to be with you, he would.

But you couldn’t ignore the feeling in your chest when he told you he was having dinner with Taylor Kelly.

“We got to talking at that call and then Albert said him and Veronica were having dinner and I just, called and asked if she wanted to come.” Buck explained. “And she said yes?” You asked.

“Yeah, she seemed on board. Maybe this is the universe telling me something.” He said. “The universe? You’ve never believed in that stuff.” You told him. “But this is Buck 3.0. I’m all for a change.” Buck answered. “When is this dinner again?” You asked. “Wednesday at 6.” He said.

“Oh.” You muttered quietly. Wednesday was your birthday. And it seemed that Buck was caught up in bettering himself and finding someone that he had completely forgotten about you. But you had enough trying to remind him and get him to see that you were right there the whole time.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at the mug in your hands. “You okay?” He asked. “Uh, yeah. I think I’m gonna head home. I have a long shift tomorrow.” You said, rising from your seat.

“You just got here.” Buck pointed out. “Buck, I just, I gotta go.” You said in a more stern manner. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and watched you leave his apartment.

You let out a large sigh as you got in your car before the tears came.

How were you so unlucky that the guy you were head over heels for, wanted someone else? He wanted someone else so much, he forgot about her birthday. When you were right there through everything? You were there through Abby leaving, Ally breaking up with him, the lawsuit against the department, his parents, everything. And yet you were left on the back burner.

You always put his feelings above your own, not because you felt like you should. But because you cared about him and if he was happy, you were happy. Though, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that he sometimes didn’t give you that same courtesy.

Your day was like the day from hell. Everything that could go wrong in your line of work, went completely wrong. To make matters worse, you had lost one of your favorite patients. She had stage 3 leukemia but she never let that change her personality.

She made going to the hospital after shifts worth while because at least you got to spend time with her. But the cancer was too aggressive for the chemo and she died in her sleep that night. You tried not to let losses get to you but she had been your patient since you started volunteering at the hospital. You were really hoping you’d see her remission but the universe had other plans.

All you wanted to do was lay on the couch with Buck and just cry. You got in your car and dialed his number, getting a few rings before he picked up. “Hey, you!” He greeted you. “Hey, do you maybe want to come over later? I’ve had the worst day. I lost a patient and-” You started before he cut you off.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I can’t. I have a date tonight, trying to put myself back out there.” He said. “I can come over after.” He added. “No, forget it. It’s fine.” You said. “You sound upset.” Buck said. “I’m fine, Buck. Enjoy your date.” You replied before hanging up the phone.

Since that evening, you had been avoiding Buck like the plague. On shifts, you wouldn’t talk to him. Sticking to Chimney and Hen like glue to avoid any conversation with Buck.

You went so far to ask to ride in the ambulance to calls, rather than in the fire engine like usual. It wasn’t odd for you to be in the ambulance because you were an EMT but you usually rode with the rest of the team.

“Does anyone know why Y/N won’t ride with us anymore?” Buck asked his crew. “Are you that dumb?” Hen asked. “Hen,” Bobby started. “It’s because of you, dude.” Eddie answered. “Me? What did I do?” Buck questioned. “Well, you blow her off all the time, completely ignore her feelings and ditch her for dates and you’re so oblivious you can’t see that she’s totally in love with you.” Eddie explained. “When you were hurt in the hospital, she didn’t come to work for days because she didn’t want you the throw a clot. She had to work triple shifts just to make enough to pay her rent because of all the days she missed sitting with you. Did you ever thank her for that?” Bobby added. “Well, no, but-” He started.

“And when she lost her favorite patient, Emily, did you ask her if she was okay?” Bobby asked. “I-I couldn’t I had a date. And she didn’t say it was Emily.” Buck said, trying to defend yourself. “If you don’t reciprocate her feelings, that’s fine. But she’s your best friend. And as her best friend, you are supposed to be there when she needs you. She shouldn’t have to explain herself.” Bobby concluded. “You also forgot her birthday.” Chimney added as they all got out of the engine.

The rest of his shift, Buck tried getting you to talk to him. But it was always, ‘I’m busy, Buck’ or ‘Can’t talk, we’re working.’ He’d given up when he tried to stop you after a call and you had given him a look he had never seen before.

The guilt was eating him alive. He was a terrible friend to you and he thought being with you was a pipe dream. Until Hen and Eddie told him you loved him. But regardless of your feelings for him, you had done so much for him and he didn’t realize it until you were gone.

That night, Buck went over to Taylor’s to gain more perspective on what he could do to fix what he royally screwed up.

“I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t talked to me in weeks. We’ve never gone this long without talking.” Buck explained to Taylor.

“Well, you did forget her birthday. And not give it a second thought that she was hurting over the loss of a patient.” She said. “That’s not helping.” He replied. “You asked for my help and I’m being honest. You really hurt her. She almost got evicted because she was so worried about you. The first person she wanted to be with after her friend died was you and you went on a date instead.” Taylor said. “I know. I tried to talk to her but she won’t answer any of my calls or texts. She won’t even look at me anymore.” Buck said.

“You are so stupid sometimes.” Taylor laughed. “What?” Buck asked. “She has feelings for you. Why else would she get so upset? If she only saw you as a friend, you would be getting screamed at not avoided.” She explained.

“Everyone keeps saying that but there’s no way Y/N has feelings for me. She’s...perfect. Perfect doesn’t fall for damaged goods.” Buck rebutted. “Trust me, she loves you.” Taylor told him. “And do you love her?” She asked. “Of course I do. But being with her seemed like it was too good to happen so I tried to move on. I guess I tried so hard I ended up hurting her anyways.” Buck answered.

“Then tell her. And do a whole lot of graveling while you’re at it.” Taylor said.

Buck quickly left the apartment and got into his car driving like a bat out of hell. When he arrived at your apartment, he didn't even bother to park in the parking stall correctly, his main focus was just getting to you.

When he finally reached your door, he knocked on it rather harshly and heard the sound of your urgent footsteps coming to find out who it was.

"Buck? What are you doing here?" You asked. Buck couldn't even find the words to answer because he was more focused on what you were wearing.

You had on a formed fitting red dress, your hair was curled and flowing over your shoulders and you looked beautiful.

"Wh-Why are you dressed like that?" He stammered. "I have a date." You answered. "You have a date? With who?" Buck asked. "Emily's brother. We became close when Emily had chemo and after she died we kept in tough. Why are you here?" You questioned.

"Don't go on the date. Please, for the love of god, don't go on that date. Because I love you, Y/N. I was too stupid to see it until you weren't around anymore. And I was terrible to you. I was supposed to be your best friend and I was so worried about my own life I dnd't even ask you how you were doing and oh my god I missed your birthday." Buck rambled.

"Slow down, Buckley, and talk to me at a normal rate, please." You said.

Buck took a deep breath and looked at you intently. "I'm in love with you. I-I always have but being with you always seemed like a pipe dream because you're perfect. You have always been perfect and you know that I'm not." Buck explained.

"Exactly. I've seen you at your worst and I still love you but even as your best friend you never gave me the time of day. Missing my birthday to go to dinner with Taylor Kelly. Brushing me off after Emily died because you had a date." You laughed bitterly. "I have stood by you no matter what. But god forbid I need you once in a while." You added.

"And I am so sorry, Y/N. You have every right to be upset with me, I'm upset with me. I'm pissed off at myself because I didn't realize what I had until it was too late." Buck replied. "Evan, do you understand the situation you just put me in? I get to go on a date with a great guy, one who actually pays attention and then the man I've been in love with for years, shows up at my doorstep to tell me he loves me back." You started.

Buck's facial expression fell, fearing the worst and anticipating you telling him that you'd moved on and he was too late.

"And I have to call that guy and tell him that I can't make it. Because the person I actually want to be with is right here." You finished.

The light in Buck's eyes returned at your words, looking at you with a gentle smile.

"Really?" He asked. "Yes, really and please don't make me regret it. You've screwed up a lot lately, let's not add us to the list." You said. "So there's an us now?" Buck questioned. "I-If that's okay with you." You stuttered. "It's absolutely okay with me." Buck said with a smile.

"I guess I got all dressed up for nothing." You sighed, letting Buck inside your apartment.

Buck was quiet for a moment as he watched you take your heels off and your earrings, placing them on the table by the door. "Then let's not make it for nothing. Let me take you out on our first official date." He said.

"Besides, I need to see you in that dress more often." He added a smirk on his face. "Alright then, Buckley. Take me on a date. You have a lot to make up for." You smiled, offering him your hand.

Buck took your hand in his, happily, and held you steady as you put your shoes back on. “Trust me, Y/N, it’ll be the best date you’ve ever been on.” He said.

In the moment, you laughed at his words but after the date had concluded and all was said and done, it had indeed been the best date you have ever been on.

#imagine #911 imagine #911 lone star #911 fox #evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley oneshot #oliver stark

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luvdsc · 4 years ago

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doing the bf tag with my bf.

hey, siri, does bf stand for best friend or boyfriend? (or both?)

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + youtuber au word count :: 4,691 words warnings :: none playlist :: mean it (lauv & lany) ⋆ always, i’ll care (jeremy zucker) ⋆ fearless (taylor swift) ⋆ fingers crossed (coin) ⋆ cardiac arrest (bad suns) author’s note :: this fic is a tiny bit different than my usual writing because i emphasize more on dialogue than description in order to mimic a youtube video. happy birthday to this absolute darling angel! you have the biggest heart in the universe, and thank you for sharing so much of it with the world ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

Your subscribers have always wondered if you would do this type of video countless of times, and you never thought you’d ever actually record one due to the state of your love life (or lack thereof), yet here you are.

Unfortunately, the romantic department of your life still remains very much empty though. But lucky for you, so is your best friend’s. And that pretty much works out perfectly because he could stand in for your nonexistent boyfriend in order to complete the popular GF/BF tag (along with a hidden challenge that was popular by demand and personally requested by a certain friend with a flair for baking. Now if only the frantic butterflies in your stomach would settle down just enough for you to do it).

After all, BF could stand for either boyfriend or best friend, right?

It’s also no secret that yours and Jaemin’s subscribers shipped you two together either. Heck, you may be a little delusional as well because you ship yourself with your best friend, too. Blame the massive crush you’ve been secretly harboring. But two best friends sharing an apartment and frequently appearing in videos on each of your respective channels? In the eyes of your fans, that’s basically the perfect setup for a modern day love story.

It would 100% be the greatest love story since Kat and Patrick in 10 Things I Hate About You, but at this point in your life, your story is going to be marked down as a tragedy. You feel even more hopeless and dramatic than Romeo was about his unrequited love for Rosaline. Also, that dude got over her way too quickly at the sight of another pretty girl. You wish that would happen for you, too, but your heart is much too stubborn over Jaemin.

When you had asked him if he would do the video with you, Jaemin immediately agreed much to your initial surprise. The publicity would be good though, you surmise later on, and both our fan bases would grow, so of course, he would agree. It’s not like your best friend liked you back. That would be absolutely absurd.

“Are you ready?” Jaemin speaks up, breaking your train of thought, and you’re slightly startled. He plops down in the plush pink rolling chair next to you, the chair moving back a few inches. He scooches it closer to your own chair, buzzing with excitement. You smile at your best friend, pushing down the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You nod before reaching forward and pressing the record button on the camera set up in front of you. You pull up the list of questions on your phone.

“Yeah, let's do this.”

How did we meet?

“Oh, this is an easy question,” Jaemin says, flashing his award winning smile at the camera before he throws his arm around you happily, hugging you affectionately. “It was freshman year. You ran into me. Literally. We were in the same class, and it just ended. You were trying to shove your textbook into your bag and didn’t notice where you were walking until you face-planted into my back.”

The memory is still fresh in your mind, and you remember how you had already resigned yourself to your fate of becoming good friends with the floor. But Lady Luck was on your side for once, and she sent an angel in the form of Na Jaemin to save you from embarrassment on your first day of university.

“Yeah, I almost fell flat on my butt, but luckily, Nana has great reflexes and when he turned around, he grabbed my arm before I hit the ground,” you add on, still squished into his side. He beams, eyes crinkling into half moon crescents before placing a kiss on your cheek and turning back to the camera.

Your heart skips a beat, but you ignore it. Jaemin has always been affectionate, and kisses were all in good fun. You continue on, plastering a nonchalant smile on your face. “And he said, ‘Looks like you just fell for me.’ And then he insisted that we get lunch together.”

“And the rest is history!” he exclaims happily, resting his cheek on the top of your head. You smile fondly before going onto the next question.

Where was our first date?

“The dining hall immediately after you ran into me.”

“That wasn’t a date,” you interject. “We can skip this question since we aren’t dating.”

Jaemin shrugs, waiting for you to read the next question. He murmurs faintly under his breath, “It was supposed to be one.”

We’re going out to eat, where are we going?

Jaemin answers immediately, leaning back in his chair. “The little pizza place down the block! They always make three different types of unique pizza everyday, and once they sell out, they close for the day.”

“We always go on Wednesday because they make both of our favorite pizzas then.” You chime in, and he nods enthusiastically, moving closer to the front and throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis. “They have corn and potato pizza that day!”

You wrinkle your nose slightly before leaning towards the camera. “To my subscribers, for the record, I assure you that I have better taste than that, and I love the artichoke pesto pizza with ricotta.”

What food do I dislike?

“... Corn and potato pizza,” he says reluctantly with a pout. “And kiwis. The outside is furry and creeps you out, and the fruit makes your tongue itch.”

You flash a thumbs up at the camera, and your best friend grins, puffing up his chest. Chuckling quietly, you shake your head before answering the question yourself. “And this dork absolutely hates anything strawberry flavored. And he’s lactose intolerant, so dairy is his enemy.”

“I love cheese, but cheese hates me,” he says mournfully, hanging his head down low before he jumps back up and reads the following question listed on your phone’s screen aloud.

Who is my best friend?

“Me!” Jaemin shouts gleefully, throwing his hands up in the air, and you can’t help but laugh, grinning widely at your best friend, a fond expression on your face.

“You.”

Am I a morning person or a night person?

“We’re both night people,” you say, and Jaemin nods in agreement. “You won’t catch either of us waking up before noon if we can’t help it, and we each have to set up like five alarms just to wake up.”

“It works out because we can stay up together watching movies or editing our videos,” he adds in, turning to you and smiling fondly. “And I always have a partner when I want to go on a midnight snack run to the convenience store nearby.”

Do we have a song? What is it?

“Jeremy Zucker’s Always, I’ll Care.”

“That’s our song?” You’re surprised. You were going to mention one of the go-to karaoke songs the two of you liked to belt out on the top of your lungs after a movie and wine night. Jaemin makes a great Sharpay Evans when you both want to bop to the top.

“It’s the song that reminds me of you,” he says, voice growing softer as he reaches the end of the sentence. Curse your heart for melting into a puddle. His cheeks turn pink under your gaze, and he becomes uncharacteristically shy, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Anyway, what’s the next question?”

What’s my nickname?

“Nana!” You reach out to poke his cheek, and he puffs them up before pouting at you. He reaches out and pinches your cheek.

“I call you ‘angel’ sometimes. It’s why your channel is called peachyangel.”

What's my weirdest habit?

“Jaemin eats way too much cilantro,” you state, swinging around side to side in your rolling chair.

“I do not!” he protests loudly, and you give him a blank stare. The two of you sit there in silence, not breaking eye contact until he finally relents.

“Okay, maybe I do. But you pour cereal before milk!”

“That’s not a weird habit!” You defend yourself. You are appalled at your best friend. Neither of you have ever woken up early enough for breakfast, so this has never come up before. If you would’ve known this in the past, maybe you wouldn’t be so ridiculously in love with him in the present.

“Yes, it is! Your cereal gets all soggy that way!”

“Only idiots pour their milk first!”

He clutches his heart dramatically. “Are you calling me an idiot?!”

“... So moving onto the next question—”

What do you think I’m talented at?

“Making people fall in love with you,” Jaemin blurts out, and your eyes widen at his answer as your grip on your phone loosens considerably.

“I—I mean, you’re just so approachable, and you’re kind to everyone. You care so much about everyone and everything. People feel comfortable around you, they always gravitate towards you, and you just— I don’t know, you make people feel loved,” he explains, unable to meet your eyes, and his cheeks darken. He fiddles around with the loose strand on his sweater sleeve.

Your heart swells ten times bigger and beats faster than ever. You wonder if Jaemin knows he has the same effect on everyone, too. You hope he does.

You wonder if he knows you’re in love with him and if he would love you back. You hope he does.

When was the first time you said “I love you” to me?

“Uh, we can skip this one, too,” you say awkwardly, but he throws his arm around your shoulder again, hugging you tightly. “Nope, not skipping! I have the answer to this one!”

He grins toothily at the camera before pinching your cheek for a second time affectionately. “I said ‘I love you’ when you showed up at my dorm and brought me pop tarts at three in the morning after I accidentally drunk texted you, instead of Jeno. That’s when I knew you were a keeper.”

“I did that because I felt bad about throwing up on your shoes at the party we went to the weekend before that,” you mumble, face growing warm when you remember your best friend’s drunken confession a few years back. “Besides, you were drunk. It doesn’t count.”

“Okay, fine, but we say it to each other all the time. The second time I said it was when you brought me chicken nuggets, and I was hungover, but sober.” He says, spinning in his chair.

“I can see the pattern now. You say it when I bring you food,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest with a fake pout. “You love food, not me.”

“That’s not true!” he exclaims, halting mid spin and facing you. He turns your chair towards him, moving forward to clutch both of your hands in his, and stares directly into your eyes seriously. “I love you.”

You inaudibly gulp, helplessly gazing back at him as you feel your face begin to burn, your heart speeding up in your chest. Jaemin grins, leaning back and letting go of your hand. “See? I love you!”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow hard, fumbling over your words. “You love me.”

What is your favorite thing about me?

“Your laugh,” Jaemin replies honestly, reaching out and absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand as he looks at you. “Hyuck told me the other day that whenever I try to do something funny or make a joke, I have a habit of turning towards you for your reaction. It makes me kinda proud that I can make you laugh.”

You know that you’re stupidly grinning like an absolute idiot at this point, but you don’t care. You even almost forget about the camera.

“Your smile,” you answer, maintaining eye contact with him. Your smile widens when you see one appear on his face, his eyes shining brightly. “You have the prettiest smile, and I’m grateful that I’m able to see it everyday or be the cause of it sometimes.”

What film always makes me cry?

“Oh, The Lion King.” Jaemin responds automatically. “We both cry our eyes out at the stampede moment and when Simba tells his dad to wake up.”

“When we saw the live action version together, we brought along a ton of tissues with us, and he used almost all of them.”

What drink do I always order?

“Jaemin is crazy and always gets a venti iced americano with no water and eight espresso shots. He used to drink it six times a day until I yelled at him about it,” you say, shaking your head at the camera before glancing over at your best friend. “It’s seriously bad for your health.”

His lips jut out into a pout as he whines, “You wouldn't let me cuddle with you until I changed it!”

“It was for your own good! Plus, that drink tasted like battery acid!” You exclaim, and he sulks quietly before begrudgingly agreeing. You pat his head in consolation, and he grabs your hand, naturally interlocking your fingers with his.

“I drink it less now and with only two and half shots.”

If I could, what candy could I eat all day long?

“Chocolate,” you blurt out immediately. “Jaemin is a chocolate fanatic. But he’ll take anything with sugar. He has such a sweet tooth. He eats brown sugar when he’s bored. Even his boba drink has 100% sugar.”

“It’s as sweet as you.” Jaemin winks at you exaggeratingly, and you roll your eyes, turning your face away slightly to hide the smile that begins to spread across your face.

“Y/N likes matcha green tea Kit Kats.” He leans closer to the camera, peering into the lens in a serious manner. “If any chocolate companies are watching this, we are both open to sponsorships.”

If I could live anywhere in the world, where would I live?

“Here,” Jaemin says confidently, beaming at you, “You’d want to live here with me. And I want to live here, too. Because this is the bestest place in the world.” He hesitates, faltering for a moment before searching your eyes. “Right?”

Who are you to say no to that?

You smile at him. “Right.”

What am I deathly afraid of?

“You’re afraid of spiders,” he announces, “You make me take care of all the spiders in the apartment.”

“Yeah, it’s the only reason I keep you around,” you say casually, and he gasps, insulted. You give him a cheeky smile. “I’m just kidding.”

He scowls at you, lips pulled into a frown. “You better be.”

What is the first thing that I do in the morning?

“Jaemin is never awake before I am,” you inform the camera, crossing your legs. “I have to wake him up first if we go anywhere.”

“Even if you don’t have to go to an event, you still wake up early to make sure I’m awake, so I won’t be late. So that’s what you do first thing in the morning: wake me up.” Jaemin nudges your leg. “You always come into my room as a blanket burrito with your comforter wrapped around you.”

“That’s because I have to face the treacherous cold to make sure you aren’t late to your events. But you still end up late anyway because you drag me down onto your bed and refuse to let me go until we lay there for twenty minutes,” you grumble, pulling up your legs onto your chair and wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Cuddling is a good way to conserve body heat and start the morning,” Jaemin states, waving his arms around to emphasize his point.

“Really? Do studies show that it’s beneficial to cuddle in the morning?”

“I don’t know.” Jaemin shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. He smiles at you, causing your stomach to do flip flops and your heart to do cartwheels. “But it makes me happy every morning, so I’d say that’s enough proof.”

Who usually wins our arguments?

“Y/N does,” Jaemin sighs heavily, leaning back against his chair in resignation. “You always win.”

“It’s true.” You nod, patting Jaemin’s arm consolingly. “It’s tough always being right, but someone has to do it.”

“You always pout, too, and I just give in because you’re too cute,” he says casually, and you freeze in your seat. Never mind the fact that he’s implying you’re wrong, Na Jaemin just called you cute.

Good thing this is caught on camera because this means you can secretly watch this multiple times in private. And also cringe over your awkward reaction, but let’s not talk about that right now because once again, Jaemin just called you cute. You! Cute! Jaemin! Your mind is honestly short circuiting, and you can’t do anything, except nod and smile like a complete fool.

What do we usually argue about?

“Adopting,” Jaemin says solemnly. Eyes widening, you wait for a moment, but he offers no explanation. You lightly shove his chair, and he rolls a few inches away. “Nana, you can't just end it like that! You have to say more than that!”

Turning towards the camera, you hurriedly explain, “He’s talking about pets. He wants to adopt five dogs and name them after Jisung, Chenle, Jeno, Renjun, and Mark. And then he wants to adopt a snake and name it after Donghyuck.”

“She said we could only get one dog and the snake.” Jaemin scowls, slumping in his seat as he stares into the camera. “I can’t believe she isn’t letting me get five dogs. I love Jisung and all non-Jisung’s equally.”

What’s my favorite clothing item?

“It’s not even yours. You always steals my white hoodie. I haven’t been able to wear it for the past month,” Jaemin complains, and you have the decency to look a little guilty.

You play with the strings of said hoodie that’s currently engulfing your body, curling into yourself as you tuck your face into the sweater like a turtle. “Your clothes smell nice.”

“But we use the same laundry detergent.” Jaemin wrinkles his eyebrows, confusion evident in his eyes. “All our clothes smell like snuggles and cotton.”

“It’s not the same,” you insist, wrinkling your nose, and he shakes his head, lips curling into a smile. He reaches over and tugs the hood of the sweater over your head playfully.

“Okay, whatever you say, angel. You look better in them than me anyway.”

Where am I on a Friday night?

“You’re here with me, eating Chinese take out and watching Criminal Minds,” you answer, and he agrees, nodding.

“We just finished watching all twelve seasons on Netflix, so if anyone has any show recommendations, please send them in!”

What is my weirdest interest?

“Once again, my clothes,” Jaemin says, and you begin to protest but he wags his finger at you. “No, no, no, you don’t get to disagree! You hoarded like six of my sweaters in your closet. I bought you the exact same sweater for your birthday, but you still take mine!”

You silently decide that it is better to accept this defeat than correct him because you actually have seven of his sweaters and a few tee shirts as well.

Who’s my favorite YouTuber?

“Me!” Jaemin’s hand shoots up in the air. “I’m your favorite YouTuber. Next question.”

Your hands start to get clammy as you look down at the final question you have been saving for last. It’s been a good fifteen minutes, and the butterflies still haven’t subsided. If anything, they seem to have multiplied and transformed into a whole rampaging zoo complete with elephants and monkeys.

“Uh, are you sure about that, Nana? ShowMeTheMonet is really good. I also really like itsmebetch a lot.” You stall for time, staring at the last question until the words are stamped in your mind. “Dream Unsolved and Worth It are amazing, too.”

Suddenly, Jaemin is right in front of you as he spins your chair around to face him, frowning and complaining, “What do you mean I’m not your favorite? You’re my favorite! What kind of best friend are you? This is a betrayal! An insult! This is worse than Jisung not calling me his favorite! How could you do this to m—”

“Okay, okay, you’re my favorite! I’m sorry! It was a joke,” you interrupt, but he turns away from you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, go make a video with ShowMeTheMonet instead.” He sulks, shoulders hunched over. “If you like her so much, go be best friends with her.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll buy you all the chocolate you want after this,” you plead with him, placing your phone on the table next to you. “I’ll even buy you boba everyday for a week!”

Jaemin brightens up at that immediately. “Oh, yeah! I want some milk tea after this! Okay, what’s the last question?”

You swallow hard, nervously fiddling with the hoodie strings once more and shoving all the butterflies down to the pit of your stomach. Twisting in your seat, you move your chair and spin his around until you’re both facing each other, knees touching.

“‘Where and when was our first kiss?’”

At the immediate thought of kissing you, his cheeks explode in various shades of pink, the tips of his ears catching fire. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about kissing you daily. Heck, he had to stop himself from doing so earlier when you were burying your face in his stolen hoodie. It’s so unfair that you’re always so cute and looking so… so… kissable.

“I, uh, I don’t think I can answer that,” your best friend stammers out as his eyes dart towards your lips before meeting yours.

“But you got all the other answers right.” Your voice comes out steadier than you thought it would, and you mentally pat yourself on the back. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you pause for a moment, balling your hands into fists before uncurling them and asking hesitantly, “Should I help you out?”

“Yes.” He wonders how exactly you can help him out. Oh god, did he kiss you before when he was drunk? But you would’ve told him if he did that. What if he had ki—

A soft pair of lips lands on his.

You’re kissing him. Oh my god, you’re kissing him! Jaemin wants to jump up and shout it from the rooftops. His heart leaps from his chest, and he’s wildly cheering in his mind as fireworks explode around him before he suddenly remembers that he has to kiss you back.

And so he does.

Jaemin tugs you closer until you’re pulled onto his lap, a muffled squeak of surprise coming from you, and he laughs as he presses his lips against yours more firmly, hands gripping your thighs as you straddle him. Your arms loop around his neck, and your heart ricochets in your chest as you kiss him back until your lungs are screaming for oxygen and you have to pull away.

Jaemin positively beams at you, eyes sparkling as he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against yours affectionately. He laughs breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, that was really helpful. Our first kiss just happened right here a few seconds ago. And now, our second kiss is about to happen.”

Your best friend closes the distance, crashing his lips against yours once more, and you kiss him back just as fervently, smiling against his lips as he does the same. Never in either of your wildest dreams did you think this was going to happen, but you sure as heck aren’t complaining, and neither is he.

When the two of you finally break apart, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, flustered, and Jaemin laughs giddily, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling. He hugs you tightly to his chest before nudging you to look up at him. “So did I get a 100% on the boyfriend tag?”

“Yes,” you say, sitting up straight on his lap and grabbing both of his hands in each of your own, intertwining your fingers with his. “You got twenty five out of twenty five. Congratulations on your perfect score.”

“Technically, you did do the boyfriend tag with your boyfriend then, right?” he says slyly, squeezing your fingers. “Shouldn’t I get some bonus points for helping you do the tag correctly?”

You chuckle, failing to contain your smile. “Okay, fine, you get bonus points, too. You did an A plus job, Nana.”

“I’ll take those bonus points in the form of kisses.” He puckers his lips at you, and you easily comply, wordlessly leaning forward to give him one, two, three kisses.

Jaemin grins at you, positively delighted before he attacks you with kisses, peppering soft kisses onto your cheeks, forehead, chin, the tip of your nose, and everywhere else in between until he finally kisses your lips gently.

If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts floating around his head and shooting from his eyes. He leans forward again to kiss you one more time for good measure. You smile mischievously, tilting your head to the side slightly as your hands curl around his shirt. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want for your bonus points?”

His eyebrows furrow for a split second before his entire face lights up. Jaemin carefully cradles you, picking you up as his grip tightens under your thighs. You let out a quiet squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he stands up enthusiastically.

“Cut the cameras!”

One new notification: peachyangel uploaded a new video!

nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ commented:

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANGEL 🥺💗💞💖💗🤩💝💕💜🤧💖💘😭💘🌼💐🥺💖🥺🥺🥺

peachyangel replied: ily too baby 🥺🤧💖💖

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

is this allowed?? there are minors here 😫 jisung look away

peachyangel replied: get your mind out of the gutter, ya nasty 🙄 we turned off the cam because he wanted to go get milk tea

jisung pwark replied: I’m 18!!!!! Stop treating me like a child!!!

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ jisung pwark stop making me cut the crusts off of your sandwiches then

big head king replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck how come you don’t cut the crusts off of my sandwiches 😭😭

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ big head king because you are a grown adult and jeno already does it for you

jenojam commented:

congrats jaemin!! :)

Starbucks Official commented:

we would love to sponsor you, Mr. Na!

FIGHTING HAEYADWAE commented:

OH YOU ARE NANA!!1!1!!! 🤯🤯

ShowMeTheMonet commented:

um hello i would love to do the gf tag with you! i accept!!! it would be an honor 🤩

peachyangel replied: omg yes!!!! 🥺🥺 let’s do it soon 💖

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ did… did we just lose our gfs 🤧

mork lee rawr xD commented:

hahaha nice guys ! this was really cute haha

ty track commented:

the babies are all growing up too fast ):

jeno is my favorite commented:

.... i feel so single @.@

DonutKillMyVibe commented:

let it be known that I was the friend who challenged @ peachyangel to do the challenge and hence, I am the reason these two are together 👀👀

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck commented:

someone should make an updated version of that jaemin complaining video compilation with this

big head king commented:

ayyy you all are the GOAT 🐐🐐🐐

jenojam commented:

so are we just gonna let it slide when he called everyone except jisung “non jisungs” ?

jisung pwark replied: 😎😎

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

is no one gonna comment on how he called me a snake?????

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle is no one gonna comment on how much of a clown hyuck is???

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck wtf? where did this even come from

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle sorry I thought we were stating the obvious here

big head king replied: LOLOLOL

apado gwenchana god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

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peter-parcoeur · 4 years ago

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Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“ Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower. Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house. The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland #frat!tom #enemies to lover #tom holland x reader

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

Text

Valentines Day for Nerds (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s favourite holiday is often taken up mostly by work, but this year his enjoyment doesn’t seem to be as disruptive in the BAU bullpen. The team soon realise why.

AN: It’s a bit late- who am I kidding? IT’S ALWAYS HALLOWEEN IN OUR HEARTS! This was a part of @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap, for the brilliant @agntprentiss <3

For my smut fic from the swap, check out A Little Indulgence (18+ only!)

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

Word count: 1.7k words

Gif credit to @imagining-in-the-margins <3

Your name: submit What is this?

The first breach of boredom was Penelope practically skipping into the bullpen, her arms cradling a bouquet of flowers as if it were an infant. The bold orange roses contrasted with the dyed black petals of its counterparts as they were planted upon Spencer’s desk.

“Delivery for Doctor Reid!” trilled Penelope, clapping her hands now that they were free of said delivery. Dropping his pen onto his unfinished paperwork, Spencer pivoted the base of the bouquet before he found a small black envelope.

It held a little card with two pumpkins, happy faces carved into them both. Inside were the following words:

Black is for new beginnings,

Orange is for enthusiasm,

Spooky times are afoot tonight,

Watch out for ectoplasm!

I spent ten minutes trying to think of a rhyme for that. Happy Halloween, Cara Mia!

Y/N xxx

Spencer beamed as he placed the bouquet at the edge of his desk, next to the fake severed hand that now held the card in its stiff fingers. He scratched his bristly cheek. Less than a day until he could shave this off. It’d be worth it though.

“Is it from Y/N?”

He looked up to see Penelope had lingered like a lost spirit, waiting to see if her trials of passing on the bouquet had been worthy enough for her to move onto the next world – her Batcave. She was poised with a hopeful expression.

“Yes,” Spencer said, watching Penelope lean up on her tiptoes as she tried to rein in her delight.

She clapped her hands, her purple painted nails clicking as they tapped together, “Are my two favourite ghost hunters up to much this Hallow’s Eve?”

“We’re going to see the Phantasmagoria re-enactment after we go trick-or-treating with Henry tonight.”

It was hard to ignore the absolute glee with which Spencer spoke. Even if one completely ignored the way his voice carried a light excitement, the way his eyes lit up and his broad smile almost fell off his face was enough to connote that he was very excited for tonight. It was also hard to ignore the mild bemusement on the faces of everyone who heard.

Glad to be back and bearing witness to his elated behaviour regardless, Emily cracked a smile, “Maybe she’ll cling to you when she gets scared.”

A heat crawled up Spencer’s neck and he tried to return to work now in hopes that his gift’s display would be cut off. He’d rather sit in the glow of receiving the flowers without mockery.

To the team’s credit, no one ribbed him for it.

The flowers were not the last gift though.

Soon Penelope reappeared, “Your Cupid has returned with another gift for you!”

As he tore at the paper and revealed an Edgar Allen Poe pin – the titular Raven he instantly attached it to his satchel strap – in pride of place, just like the bouquet.

Derek was the one to notice how Spencer’s sandwiches had been cut into little pumpkins. Some digging and Spencer revealed that he had gotten Y/N to order a cutter online. He held his lunch in one hand, his collection of classic Halloween short stories in the other, with a childish glee that no one wanted to squander.

When Spencer climbed the steps to drop off a file to Hotch around mid-afternoon, Rossi walking behind him noted the brand-new socks. A classic odd pairing, and obviously they were Halloween themed. This kid left no opportunity untaken when it came to celebrating Halloween – more than his own birthday.

But Rossi was not closed enough to get a good look at them, and no one else was as close. So, he recruited Emily and Derek to discover what the pattern was. It was Emily and Derek who upped the stakes by wanting to get a glimpse without arousing suspicion. Now that outright asking Spencer was not an option, the game began as they dropped several pens as an excuse to bend over and strain for a flash of those socks.

Derek eventually resorted to a pantomime attempt at tripping in front of Spencer’s desk and gave the jig up straight away by shouting to a stressed Emily (whilst also catching the attention of Hotch through his office’s blinds): “IT’S IT!”

A few language barriers hurdled later, and hindsight brought them both clarity. The red splodge on Spencer’s ankle was officially defined as a balloon.

“So tell us! What’s the other one?” Emily said, her voice strained with how much she was invested in this single sock.

Spencer hiked up his trouser leg to display the skeletal zombie sewn into the sock. “It’s Curtis Danko from When Good Ghouls Go Bad. Y/N had it commissioned for me!”

JJ was watching nearby, unaffected by the tensions of the sock bet. She knew the film because Y/N had wanted to show it to Henry the other week when she babysat him. But upon further inspection, the R.L. Stine film – while intended for kids – might be a little intimidating for Henry to watch without his profiler mother and godfather, police officer father, and favourite auntie there to protect him from the cursed statue.

No one else in the bullpen knew the film.

The team soon discovered that Spencer was not the only one to be on the receiving end of such gifts. Six o’clock rolled around and Y/N entered the bullpen. She was wearing a fuzzy black scarf, some sparkles shining within the wool. At the tail of it, a lucky black cat patch was sewn onto the end. It caught Rossi’s eye and he hid behind a folder as he smiled. The three times that Spencer had forgone a card game with him (in favour of knitting the scarf on the flights back from cases) had been riddled with playful teasing. It was good to see that it was worth it.

Especially when Spencer saw Y/N wearing it and his back snapped straight up. His chair flew backwards, spinning around with the effort that Spencer had launched himself from it, and he and Y/N embraced each other with casual affection.

“How was work today?”

“Not as boring as I thought. But, I have to say: I’m meant to call you Cara Mia.” Spencer’s eyes darted to the card Y/N had sent that morning.

Y/N caught onto his meaning, “Should I stop?”

“Never.”

She rubbed her nose against his and Spencer went pink again, giggling like a teenager. True, he was as smitten with Y/N as Gomez was with Morticia. Then he remembered he was in the workplace as Y/N went to greet the rest of the team, and Spencer’s pink became a scarlet.

“Aww, Pretty Boy,” Derek grinned at him from his desk chair, “You’re so cute!”

“It’s like Sergio!” Emily said, admiring the scarf with her thumb rubbing over the stitches around the cat patch.

“Make sure he’s safe tonight,” Y/N squeezed her hands for a second.

Then JJ appeared from her office, coat and bag over her arm, and she, Y/N, and Spencer wished the bullpen a Happy Halloween before they left.

They had three hours before the Phantasmagoria started. Plenty of time to get ready.

Henry was right behind the front door of his home. The second it opened, he bounced at Spencer’s feet, his tiny hand clutching onto two of his fingers to drag him inside. He was babbling away at such speed that Y/N could barely keep up. She gave Will a wave across the ironing board where he was diligently ironing Will’s cape.

“Well don’t you look handsome!” Y/N beamed at Henry while JJ combed his hair back, slick with gel. It was something he agreed to but only if Spencer was doing the same. Which he was, occupying the downstairs bathroom as he prepared his own costume.

The moment Spencer had finished shaving everything bar the moustache, he was plonked in front of the television. Henry smoothed out his cloak and put in his plastic fangs in to watch the rest of his new favourite Halloween film, The Little Vampire. He mumbled along with Rudolph’s lines and sat enraptured as he pointed out to Spencer the flying scenes. Luckily for him, Will and JJ were getting dressed as Frederick and Freda Sackville-Bagg upstairs to join in the Halloween spirit – last year’s Halloween date night disaster long forgotten.

Henry put in his plastic fangs and hissed at Y/N who emerged in her long sleek black dress. As she stepped across the room as elegantly as Morticia, Spence spied that she was wearing the black spiderweb tights he had bought her today.

“Hello, Gomez,” She smiled radiantly at Spencer, smoothing out his suit jacket as he stood before her. He presented her with a red rose that matched her lipstick to a tee.

As she breathed in the flower’s scent, he kissed her cheek, enjoying her giggle at the bristle of his ‘stache, “You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, and you’re handsome as ever.” She swung their linked hands between them in the opposite way she poised on her tiptoes. “Maybe we should have taken a tango class.”

And she laughed loudly at Spencer’s wincing at such a thought.

“It’s ok, Cara Mia. I’ll settle for a kiss instead.”

Oh, that was something he could do forever. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles then the inside of each wrist.

Unfortunately, Henry interrupted the stream of kisses that were headed in Y/N’s way. “Ready to go!” He skipped his way between the happy couple.

It was hard to be mad at Henry, especially with how adorable he looked beside his parents and with his bright orange pumpkin bag ready to collect candy. He felt safe with his four favourite adults guarding him.

“Tonight,” Y/N whispered into his ear and he could hear the smirk in her words, “After the Phantasmagoria.”

Spencer beamed, his dimples delightfully framing that smile. One day maybe, they would have their own Wednesday, Pugsley, and Pubert to join them. And maybe then Derek would dress up as Uncle Fester.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing #fic swap #r: female #wc: 1k+

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