#or in some cases ''watch with my eyes for the first time'' NOT because i haven't Experienced all of it

[the-librarby]

FANCY SEEING YOU HERE III

- DANTE SPARDA (DMC)

I heart girlhood and first kisses.

Part one Part two

It had been a month since that eventful first day, and Dante had gotten very comfortable in your presence. He dropped by with seemingly no rhyme or reason, every time you tried to assign him a case he would just wave it off. Apparently busy with other work.

Not only did he physically disturb your work hours, but he somehow got ahold of your work number.

When the landline rings, you pick it up without thinking, “Devil May Cry,”

“That’s it?” The voice crackles due to the poor speaker, “No, this is Y/N speaking, how can I help you?” A familiar voice mocks.

You lean back in your chair with a grin, crossing your leg over the other— you better get comfortable this is going to be a long call — and squish the receiver between your cheek and shoulder.

You hum, “Maybe you should be a receptionist, you’ve got the voice for it,”

“Oh yeah? What else am I good at?” The cocky grin is apparent in his tone.

You roll your eyes, “Being a pain in my ass,” your eyes flick to the clock display on your computer, “Aren’t you on a mission right now?”

Dante hums in confirmation, “I found some downtime, just to check in on you,”

Check ins, that’s what Dante liked to call this.

“I’m just as fine as I was yesterday, Dante,” you reply, “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you care about me, sweetheart,”

The rumble of his laughter over the speaker makes you inhale just a bit deeper, “Yeah, yeah caught red handed.”

You found it hard to navigate this dynamic with Dante. You expected the flirtatious conversations to die down but as you got more acquainted, if anything, it’s just amped it up. You’re certain it’s just the demon hunter’s nature, and not anything personal, which is fine by you. The last thing you need is to complicate this working relationship even further.

“You there, darling?” He questions, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You lean forward in your seat, moving the computer mouse to wake the screen back up, “Yeah, here,” you respond, “How’s the mission going?”

“So boring,” he complains, “Don’t make me talk about it, any plans tonight? Tell me it’s something fun,”

You laugh, “Going out actually,” you choose to ignore Dante’s dramatic gasp, “Calendar finally lined up, so I’m getting some drinks with some friends,”

Dante lets out the most wounded sound you’ve ever heard, “What! You never go out—”

“Not true!” You interject.

“—The one time you’re doing something fun and I’m not even there to see it!”

You frown, “Who said you would be invited anyway?”

Dante scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous, doll, of course I would be there,”

You hum in reluctance, “No, I don’t think so. Pretty sure I sent all the invites out already, guess yours got lost?”

“I find it funny that you think you could stop me from seeing you.” He assures.

You gaze up at the ceiling, shaking your head in disbelief. You turn in your office chair, now facing the window behind you, the cord follows and wraps around the chair.

“Guess you’ll just have to sit this one out then,” you sigh.

“I’ll find a way,” he hums, “Keep your phone on you.”

Even miles away you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched by him, a constant shadow over your shoulder. The sun is starting to set across the buildings outside, you search every rooftop and can’t find a single sign of a soul.

“Sure,” you spin back around to face your computer, “Better let you get back to your mission, I know you work so hard,” you coo.

Dante sighs, “Think of me when you go out tonight, alright doll? Because I’ll be thinking of you,”

“Goodbye Dante.” you fluster.

You hang the phone up with a click. In the silence of your office you groan, dragging your hands down your face is exasperation.

It was later in the evening when you stepped into the bar you were meeting your friends at. In the corner you can see them waving you over, a grin breaks out on your face. Cheers and greetings are shared, you can feel your shoulders relax. This was needed.

“I need a drink.”

Resounding agreements are met with your statement.

Time starts flying by, and you’re starting to forget what drink number you’re on but it’s fine, you got it handled. When you approach the bar, a guy next to you starts chatting. It’s polite and civil, he’s definitely cute, but when he starts pulling his phone out your mouth opens on autopilot.

“Oh, thank you, but no thanks,” you raise your hand placating.

The guy looks a little wounded— you grit your teeth in embarrassment— but doesn’t comment. Your friend punches your arm as he walks off, her eyes are widened.

“Why did you ditch him? He was so cute!”

You shrug, making your way back to your table, “I don’t know, wasn’t feeling it,”

Another girl chimes in as you sit down, “Wasn’t feeling what?”

“This cute ass guy just asked for her number and she shot him down!”

“Politely!” You interject.

The table is looking in your direction, one girl hums conspiratorially, “Someone we don’t know about?”

You choke on your drink, “No!” It’s not convincing, “No, there’s not,”

“Bullshit, your face is red! Who is it? Someone from work?”

The girl beside you tilts her head, “Your shady receptionist job? That would be interesting.”

Okay, so maybe your friends don’t know the full details of your job. It’s not because you don’t trust them, it’s just because this job is meant to be temporary, and honestly you don’t want them to worry about the people you work with.

Like Dante. Your heart pangs for a second at the thought of his name. That makes you pause.

“Oh my god, it’s definitely someone from her shady receptionist job,”

You automatically become defensive, “There’s nothing going on at work,” it doesn’t feel like you mean it, “I mean, nothing can happen anyway, it’s work,”

You shove down the sadness you feel saying that out loud, it’s not something you can deal with right now. When you look around the table you can see the sympathetic looks from everyone.

You groan and chug the rest of your drink, “Another round?”

You’ve definitely lost track of the amount of drinks you’ve had now. You’re laughing at every little amusing thing that comes across your path, and your friends laugh at how slurred your speech is. You’re just about to enter a different bar when your pocket starts to buzz.

“Wait,” you take a wobbly step back and dig into your pocket, “I gotta take this,” you murmur distractedly.

When your friends start to protest you wave your hand at them, “No s’fine, go in, I’ll be like, five minutes?”

You turn your back to them as they walk in, the phone in your hands looks a bit blurry and it takes you a couple tries to hit the accept button but eventually you get it.

“Hello?” You chime cheerily.

A chuckle rumbles through, “Just how drunk are you, doll?”

You frown, “Don’t,” you reply accusingly, “Don’t call me that, only Dante calls me that,”

“Really? He your boyfriend or something?” The voices teases.

You pout, “No, he’s—” you hum in thought, “Uh, a friend,”

Really, how else could you explain Dante to a stranger?

“You don’t sound convinced,”

His voice is deep, you muse, “What are you? A therapist?” A frown creases your eyebrows, “I definitely can’t afford that,”

The voice over the line laughs, it makes you feel warm, “Where are you?”

You scoff, “M’not giving my address to a stranger!”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, sweetheart?”

“Sweethea—” you gasp loudly suddenly, “Dante?”

“Bingo,” Dante laughs, it’s so familiar how could you not recognise it?

“Dante!” You repeat, in disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You are so gone,” he comments amusedly.

“Yeah,” you sigh in agreement. Slowly, on unsure legs you walk over to the edge of the pavement to sit on the curb outside of the bar, “I miss you, where are you?”

Dante is going to tease the fuck out of you tomorrow for this. But right now you are not sound of mind to care, or even realise what you are saying. Sitting on the concrete beside a parked car, you watch as other drunken groups stumble and laugh up and down the street.

“On a mission remember?” He muses.

“Oh yeah,” you respond, fingers loosely holding your phone, “How is the mission?”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?”

Your response comes out quick, “If it keeps you on the line,”

The a brief choked noise and pause, you think you hear a quiet curse— fucking hell— in the background, but it’s drowned out by the traffic.

“Where are you?” Dante repeats.

“Huh?” You swing your head around, squinting your eyes at the bar sign out front, “Some bar, Night lounge or somethin’”

“I’ll meet you there,”

You laugh, “What? You’re like—” you wave your hand in gesture, “Somewhere far away,”

“Don’t move, got it?” He ignores your comment, “See you soon, doll.”

You barely say goodbye before the line ends. You stare at your phone in confusion for a moment, what did he mean? Your sluggish mind can’t fit the pieces together, so you shrug it off. Standing up, you dust off your outfit and make your way inside the bar. The girls are urging you to catch up, having missed out on a few rounds.

You completely forget about the phone call.

Hours later, you blearily look at your phone. The clock displays 2:00am. You push your way off the dance floor, leaving your friends behind. Everything is becoming stuffy and you need space, it’s a clumsy exit but you manage to shove your way out. Skirting the edge of the dance floor, you make one last shove this time accidentally hitting someone square in the chest.

“Sorry,” you slur, hands up in defence.

A bigger hand circle your wrist, the other hooking under your chin to tilt your head up, “Just the person I was looking for,”

Slowly you blink to take the man in, black fitted top, broad shoulders, and long silver hair. A grin breaks out on your face, “Dante!” You cheer drunkenly, wriggling your hands out of his grasp and wrap them around his neck. You feel his arms curl around your waist.

Your cheek is smooshed against the juncture of his shoulder and neck, “You made it,” your murmur, “How did you find me?”

Dante looks down at you quizzically, about to respond when you’re suddenly tugged back by your shirt.

“Y/N!” Your friend shouts, “You can’t just run off like that!”

She starts to apologise to Dante on your behalf, “I’m so sorry, she’s drank a lot tonight—”

You hiccup on your laugh, “Don’t apologise,” you poke hard at Dante’s chest, “This is Dante,”

Your friend frowns, “Dante…?”

“From work,” he supplies.

Your friend frowns, looking between the two of you. Dante’s hand is resting comfortably on the small of your back, your hand turning from an accusing point to a splayed hand on his chest.

She raises her eyebrow, “Dante,” she repeats, “From work,”

“That’s me, Dante from work,” he nods.

Another girl from your group comes up, “What’s going on?” She shouts.

She jabs a thumb in your direction, a grin now on her face, “This is Dante from Y/N’s work,”

She gasps, “The Dante?”

Dante’s now starting to feel confused, the two girls in front of him are scrutinising him in his spot. He smiles politely, and lets them look. You on the other hand, are completely taken by a wave of sleepiness. Unaware of the looks exchanged, you slump into Dante’s side.

“Need home,” you murmur.

Dante leans down, hovering closer to your face to hear better, “What?”

You groan at the movement, every shift welcomes a new wave of dizziness, “Need to go home,” you force out.

“Well, Dante from work,” your friend interjects, “Think you can handle this one?”

If you were sober, you’d be more aware of the current stare down that was happening. It’s more than a simple question, Dante was facing a test of loyalty right now, and honestly, it was kinda terrifying.

He answers without doubt, “Yes, I can handle her,”

You crack your eyes open when you feel warmth wrap around you, “Bye Y/N,” kisses are pressed to your cheeks, “Get home safe, and text me!”

You mumble your goodbyes, lots of I love you’s are exchanged before Dante wraps his arm around your waist and leads you outside. Once you step out into fresh air, you sigh. It feels so good to be outside.

“Alright, let’s get you home,”

You slump your head against his shoulder, letting Dante lead the way because your legs are not working right now.

“I wanna take my shoes off,”

“You can’t take your shoes off,”

You cry worriedly, “Are they glued to my feet?”

Dante looks down at your frantic face, shaking his head, “No, we’re walking home, you can’t take your shoes off right now,” he clarifies.

You sigh in genuine relief, the split second reality of not being able to take your shoes off outweighs the minor pain they’re giving you for now.

“Would you cut my feet off if they were actually stuck?” You wonder aloud.

Dante frowns, “No, I would not cut your feet off,”

You tilt your head, “How would you get them off then?”

Dante is unsure of the direction of this conversation, he knows you’re just rambling but the accusing look in your eye makes him think you’re not going to let this go.

He sighs, “Cut them?”

You gasp, “But these are my favourite!” You kick your feet up as to show them off, but you start to topple backwards from the sudden weight shift.

Dante easily swings forward until you’re straightened up again, “I don’t know,” he hums, “Guess I would have to force them off, they’d have to unstick at some point.”

You smile, satisfied at his answer. The streets are starting to get a little quieter as you walk away from the bars, it’s nicer like this, you can hear the cars driving past and a quiet ringing in your ears from the loud music earlier.

Dante’s mind floats back to what your friends said, “Do your friends know me?”

You hum questioningly, thinking back over the blurry events of tonight. After the phone call you went back in the bar, your friends were sitting at the table urging you to catch up on drinks. No wait, something before that.

“Who were you talking to out there?”

“Dante,” you answer simply.

“Dante?” They emphasise, “Who is Dante?”

You shrug, “From work? He’s so annoying,” you roll your eyes, “Keeps calling me all sorts of names, doll, sweetheart, my love,”

While you’re rambling your friends eyes widen, the whole table shocked at the revelation you’ve just spilled.

“Y/N, my darling,” you scrunch your nose, “You know he likes you, right?”

“What?” You scoff, “That’s impossible,”

“Why?”

That made you pause. Why was it impossible again? Something about boundaries and lines interfering.

“Oh my god!” Hands slam on the table, “It’s him! The guy that nothing can happen with!”

Gasps resound around the table, but your head is spinning. Before they can ask you anymore questions you head for the bar.

“You’re the guy,” you say.

“The guy?”

You huff, waving your hand, “The guy,” you emphasise, “From work, where nothing can happen, because you’re from work,” you tag on the end, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Now Dante can read between the lines. In this case, the line is very obvious in your oversharing confidence. A line that should not be discussed right now. He knows. Your apartment building is coming into view, Dante recognises the familiar entrance steps and railing.

“Something you want to say to me, darling?” It’s cruel to ask in your state, but he can’t help it.

You stop abruptly in your path, Dante looks down at you as you turn to him, a determined look pinning your facial expression.

“Yes,” you accuse, stepping closer, “How dare you,”

Dante smirks, “How dare I what?”

You point a finger waving it between him and yourself, “Act like this,” you gesture, “You’re not my partner,”

The drunken words are not eloquently said, but he understands. He steps closer, you tilt your head up to continue facing him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, suddenly serious.

You frown, “This is so not fair,” you reach your hands up to cup his face, “You can’t look at me like that,”

Dante would put money down to see what you see in him right now, “What do I look like?” He whispers.

Your thumb grazes gently under his eye, “Not how a friend should look at me,”

He glances down at your lips, “Will you forgive me in the morning?”

His abrupt question confuses you, “For what?” You smile in amusement.

Without warning he leans down, causing your hands to slide down to the back of his neck. Your eyes widen in anticipation, he pauses close to your face, giving you a chance to back off.

“I swear if this is a sick joke, I’ll kill you Dante.” you promise.

Hands grasp your hips, tugging you flush against chest. Seconds later, Dante’s lips are on yours. It’s gentle, is what your foggy mind can comment on. Your hands reach up into his hair, gently curling into the strands, him groans in response with deepened the kiss. One of your hands travels down his chest, feeling for the hem.

Before you can get your fingers underneath, you feel the world spin before your back hits something hard. The kiss breaks, and when you open your eyes and look around you can see you’re leaning against the brick all of your apartment building.

Dante’s heavy breathing matches your own, he shakes his head with a smile, “It’s time for you to go to bed,”

You ignore him, tugging him closer by the loops of his belt. He moves forward without a fight, you lean up to kiss him once more. Dante feels weak in this moment, he can’t say no, not when your fingers are curled around his pants like that. When your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, there’s only a warning hum. A cautionary, don’t. With a smile against his lips, you breach under, letting your finger tips glide over his hipbone. You don’t get much further until a hand grasps your wrist.

“You’re breaching out of bounds territory,” Dante warns.

You grin, wriggling your fingers that are still trapped under his shirt, “Let me in,”

Dante smiles in amusement at your boldness, “No,” he counters.

Your mouth drops in shock, as if not expecting that response, “You’re so mean,”

His hand drags yours out, “You already knew that,” he winks.

You pout, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. Your slightly smudged mascara affects Dante in a way he didn’t know could, his thoughts are starting to drift too far. Thoughts of you in this outfit, on your knees on your bedroom floor, choking around—

He blinks the thoughts away. He needs to stop this.

Gently he tugs you off the brick wall, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment entrance. Getting the hint, you fish out your keys.

You look at him one last time, “This is real right? I’m not imagining it,”

Dante chuckles, “I would be a fucking fool to pass you up,” he leans forward for one more chaste kiss, his hand cups your face, “Text your friends that you’re home, before they think I killed you,”

You laugh, “I will,”

He leans again, finding it hard to part from your lips but he manages to pull away one last time, “Call me in the morning?”

You hum, leaning against his hand as you peek your eyes open, “Afternoon okay? I’ll definitely feel like shit tomorrow morning,”

Dante smiles, “Deal.”

[luvseisagi]

— not too much, just enough.

ft. michael kaiser x reader. wc. 4k

summary. on endless nights that feel like drowning in your own mind, you know michael kaiser is the only one who truly understands. content. gn!reader, no pronouns used. established relationship. hurt/comfort, toxic relationship turned healthy. mentions of emotional manipulation and gaslighting. kaiser had a redemption arc (so ooc because hes super sweet). reader is dealing with mental health issues —depression, anxiety, self harm in a way (nothing explicit) + has avoidant attachment style. other than that, i think it could even be fluff. author's note. i had an episode and i was sad as fuck so i wrote this cause the only character i think would really understand it is kaiser since he's had it even worse. so yeah. here you have !

𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) ! enjoy

the room is dark, the air so hot its difficult to breath, yet so cold it chills you even under the pile of blankets. the blinds are still up, window cracked open, but it's past midnight. no moon tonight, so nothing but the faint light of your phone screen on the bedside table illuminates the closed space.

you’re sitting on your bed, back against the wall, legs crossed. your pajamas stick to your skin, uncomfortable, but you have no strength left in your body to change clothes, too drained to move or even adjust the blankets over you.

you tried to sleep, because you feel exhausted, but your mind doesn't seem to want to cooperate. your eyes are wide open, and from where you are sitting, you can see all the notifications on your phone —a reminder of all the messages you’ve been ignoring.

today's been a rough day, but you don't even know why. you didn't do anything. didn't even leave the house, or your room —not today, not the whole week. so why do you feel exhausted? why does it feel like the worst day of your life, if nothing happened at all?

you did nothing but rot in bed for hours, gathering the very little strength you had left to drag yourself to the bathroom, splash some water on your face and eat whatever you could find in the kitchen that didn't get you nauseous just from the smell. and even that had been a struggle.

you are not fine. 

actually, you haven't been fine for a long time now. however, u are able to ignore it most of the time —your busy everyday life has you distracted enough to avoid the dark thoughts, usually. but there are times when it’s just too much.

when everything's too much is when you feel absolutely nothing.

you always say you are a pretty logical person. it's one of the things you like about yourself: always taking in every perspective, always finding rational answers for your emotions. that's why these episodes hit so hard —they don’t make sense. you can’t even grasp them, can’t analyze something you can't understand. it drives you crazy. it makes you want to cry.

it chains you to your bed for hours, for days and even weeks —when silence becomes too loud is when your mind can't quiet down.

and still, all you feel is emptiness. 

a soft knock on the door is the first sound to fill your room in days. it startles you, and you flinch.

"are you there?" 

the voice on the other side of the door is low and sweet, almost honey in the way it slides so easily from under your door to the edge of your bed. 

your throat feels dry for not speaking for days. 

there's no answer from you. you can't grasp even a trace of your voice.

"i'm coming in, okay?" 

you don't say anything, but he doesn't need you to reply. the door opens, and your boyfriend enters the room.

"hi, love. i've brought you dinner, in case you’re hungry. and water too." 

you can only watch him in silence as he walks in, setting his bag down on your desk —the food is there, you assume, given the smell. 

you swallow, but at least you don't feel the urge to throw up. the way your stomach growls, you're pretty sure hunger won this time over anxiety.

“here."

he hands you a bottle of water after opening it for you. is cold, and it calms the itch on your skin for a moment.

"thank you." you manage to mumble, avoiding his gaze. 

he's seen you in so many ways —completely naked, just waking up, ugly sobbing, and sick and feverish —but for some reason, embarrassment gathers on your cheeks when he sees you like this.

it's not that you don't look good. it's that you look vulnerable, and broken —and you hate it.

you manage to take a sip of water.

"wanna talk?" he asks then, sitting beside you on the bed.

there are no sheets, the pillow is on the floor, and you have nothing but the blankets over you and other things you didn't care to set aside scattered on the bare mattress —your headphones, the phone charger, the laptop with no battery because you didn't want to get up to plug it in. one of his hoodies is there too, wrinkled and tear-stained. you had taken it off in a heat attack that had left you choking on air last night. or maybe this morning. you are not sure.

one of his hands goes to your arm then, and caresses your skin softly. that brings you back to reality.

"i don’t know." you tell him, answering his question. "i mean, i can talk. but i don’t know what to say. i don’t know why this is happening.”

he stays silent. meanwhile, the tips of his fingers run down your arm until they reach your wrist. then they stop —he waits for you to be the one to grab his hand.

you do it immediately, but when he squeezes it to confirm you that he’s there and he’s not going anywhere, you flinch.

kaiser raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. his gaze shifts down to your hand, and, even though he knows what he’s going to see, he feels his chest swell with worry at the sight. he sighs quietly.

“love…”

“i know. i’m sorry, i… i didn’t…”

you try to let go of his hand, but he’s grabbing it firmly —enough strength to keep you from letting go, enough gentleness to avoid hurting you.

so you pull your knees up and bury your face between them. short flashes of pain run through your whole hand when kaiser brushes your knuckles with the tip of his fingers, skin red and purple throbbing under his touch.

it’s not the first time you do this, nor the first time he’s found you like this —alone in your room, gaze lost in the darkness, purple knuckles covered with dry blood and traces of a red stain on your wall. you swallow, a wave of shame flooding your throat, chest and stomach. 

you don’t know how to excuse yourself, how to justify that pain is the only way for you to feel alive, like you’re still there, sometimes. —when reality is so distorted you need something, anything, to anchor you to reality. 

luckily, you boyfriend doesn’t feel the need to say anything. he just holds your hand, and brings his other hand to your cheek. slowly, his fingertips caress your cheek, index and thumb holding your chin delicately. he tilts your head up slightly, and waits for you to look at him.

when you lift your eyes to meet his, you feel your whole soul breaking.

michael kaiser’s beauty is breathtaking, and right now, the sadness in the depth of his blue eyes knocks all the air out of your lungs. 

and that hurts even harder than saying anything.

because you can deal with him scolding you —you’d just nod, fake that you’re listening, and start a new day as if nothing had happened—, you can deal with him telling you he’s disappointed, that you shouldn’t do this to yourself, or whatever people would say after finding out about it.

but he doesn’t do that. he just holds your gaze, eyes locked on yours while he caresses your cheek with his fingers. and then he places a gentle kiss on your dry lips.

a salty tear forms on your low eyelashes, which releases it on michael’s hand. a crystal-clear drop runs down the back of his hand, his wrist, and ends up spilling onto the blanket.

he kisses your cheeks, now wet with your silent crying, and your heart shatters just a little more.

kaiser knows more about pain than anyone in this world —and you know it. even so, he thinks nothing could ever be as painful as watching you cry in front of him.

if someone told you that you’d be in this situation a year ago, you would have called them crazy. your relationship with kaiser had been complicated from the start —the flirting and the teasing were fun until real feelings got involved, and neither of you knew how to manage them. becoming an actual couple and learning how to love each other had been a very long, thorny journey.

at first, he loved you so much it pleased you —he was sweet, thoughtful, gentle. he brought you flowers after your shifts, welcomed you home with dinner and very expensive wine, wrapped you in his velvety robe at night and covered your body with kisses.

you weren’t really dating, but everyone in your lives thought you would end up in a relationship sooner or later. the few times a month that you could see each other, due to your schedules, were truly the best days of the week —like coming back to a five star hotel where you could fully relax and empty your mind.

but a five star hotel, even though beautiful, is not a home. the exclusivity becomes boring after a while, when it stops feeling like a gift and becomes something that’s just there. all the time.

you started to lose interest, and he realized it pretty quickly.

so he loved you even harder —loved you so much, it scared you. 

kaiser became obsessed with you, needy for your attention —throughout his life, he had been used to being the one in charge of the relationship. the one his partners depended on, although it was him who really needed them. and he had never had a problem with using the worst, most toxic traits known to humanity to practically force them to stay with him, convincing them that, without him, they would be lost forever.

you weren’t like that.

if he didn’t reply to your text for a couple of hours but post on social media, you would ignore him for a few days. if he told you he was hanging out with other people, reminding you on purpose that you weren’t dating yet to make you jealous, you would just answer with a “fine, have fun” and show him you didn’t really care. if he canceled your plans at the last minute, you would just take a walk alone and send him some pictures.

so he tried the opposite approach, but the result was the same —when he tried to shower you with affection, buy you presents, take you on expensive dates or just cancel his whole agenda to spend the entire day with you —you’d tell him he was being a bit too much and you needed space.

none of his old methods were working on you —not the intense lover behavior, which was supposed to make you fall irremediably hard for him, nor the avoidant partner traits, which technically would make you crawl back to him, begging for at least a bit of his attention.

he was stunned. he was confused, and, before he could realize it —he was the one who needed you so badly it could kill him.

and it seemed like it didn’t bother you at all.

of course, that wasn’t true, but his behavior had been driving you mad, and since you didn’t know how to react to his unconditional love on some days and apparent indifference on others, you just tried to convince yourself that you didn’t actually care about him. 

oh, but you did care about him.

for the almost four first months you had been going on dates, hanging out, and really like a couple, kaiser had completely fallen in love. and you knew it, but you were still not sure —not about loving him, really, because that you did. 

even if you didn’t really want to, after getting to know him better and seeing his most vulnerable, broken side —a few weeks ago, following a very heated argument that ended in angry cries and bitter kisses—, you could not not love him. 

but you were not really sure you could give him the kind of love he deserved.

walking away was easy at first —it wasn’t the first time you had done it. you tended to run away from everything, anything that started feeling important for you. from everyone who started loving you too much —which was exactly what michael was doing.

you usually made it look like you didn’t care at all, but it wasn’t exactly that —you were terrified. scared of being liked and not being enough, scared of loving too much and ending up hurt.

frightened of being known by someone —really, deeply known— and being so repulsive on the inside, no one could ever love you after that.

so you pushed him away. constantly. when he sent bouquets of flowers and when he invited you to germany, when he hugged you from behind or tried to hold your hand. 

when he started calling and texting you daily because you hadn’t shown any sign of life for a whole week.

you remember it vividly, it was about six months ago —the first time he saw you the same way you are now. 

kaiser showed up in your apartment after five days with no response. and, truthfully, he had learned to give you your space —especially lately, when you seemed to be stressed by even the slightest physical contact. however, when he asked your friends, they didn’t know anything about you either, and you lived alone, so he was really worried about you.

so, he showed up at your door, with a lot of questions on his tongue and a single blue rose on his hand.

kaiser kissed you as a greeting that day, on the cheek, a salty kiss that stained his lips forever —it was the first day he tasted your tears. then he asked, he asked so many things you can’t even remember them all. and, at first, you didn’t even try to answer —but then he sat next to you on the same bed you are now, and words started spilling from your mouth. even you were surprised to be able to explain something not even your own mind could understand.

later, when he gave you the rose, you had tried to blame the blood in your hands on its thorns. and yet, instead of feeling repulsed, kaiser had kissed each of your fingers —each of your bruises, each of the wounds still bleeding. 

and then he cleaned the red stains in the wall, helped you make the bed and raised the blinds on your window to let the pink sun rays of the sunset enter your room.

he asked to stay the night, and you let him. then, for the first time, he told you about his past. 

the last memory you have of that night, is your fingertips wiping away his tears softly, both hiding from the world under the freshly made sheets —and your lips muttering a very sincere, though slightly shaky, i love you over his mouth.

and you were still terrified, but he made it look a little bit easier. not loving him, exactly —but letting him kiss you back, and tell you he loved you too.

your relationship got better after that —it got official, actually. there were still arguments from time to time, and some nights weren’t easy —but you were learning to be together. to be there, at least.

and what is love if not that?

because he had exploded against you a few more times, screaming at you, belittling you, slamming doors and blaming you for things you didn't even know about. and you had stayed there, rational mind intact and a hand he could hold onto when reality hit him and he finally collapsed in front of you. you didn’t go. you never left him alone.

and you’d had three more episodes like the one you’re having now since that day, ignoring him and the world, hiding in your room and even seriously considering breaking up with him, thinking yourself undeserving of his care —and after each of them, kaiser had stayed there, eyes sad and kisses that reminded you that he would never stop loving you. he would never leave you.

neither of you left when yours wasn’t really love, but obsession, and need, and pent-up trauma. neither of you ran. instead, you stayed. you worked. you held on, not to what it was, but to what it could become.

and slowly, it did —a little purer, a little more beautiful—and much more fragile, too.

so here you are now, for the fourth time —weak, vulnerable and broken. your boyfriend looking at you as if he were watching the most precious thing in his life fall to pieces in front of his eyes, and he could do nothing about it.

kaiser places one last kiss on your cheek, then decides it’s time to help you feel a little bit better.

“listen, love, we are gonna do the following:” he says, gently pulling you by the hand that's holding his, forcing you to stand up. “first, we are going to take a shower —i’ll help you wash your hair and dry it afterward. then, we’ll put on clean pajamas, and i’ll change the sheets of your bed while you have dinner —brought your favorites for you to choose from. after that, we can watch a movie, or sleep, or talk, if you want. is that fine for you?” 

you nod, slowly, and the blue of his eyes shines softly as he looks at you. then he gently kisses your hairline, as if reminding you he’s going to be there for every step —he’s still as obsessed with kissing you as the first day.

so you walk together to the cramped bathroom in your apartment, still holding hands, and he helps you take off your clothes tenderly —delicately, as if scared of breaking you if he’s to harsh, but firmly, for you to know that he’s there if you need to break on your own.

then he takes off his own clothes and the two of you step into the shower, barely large enough for two people. you stand still as the water soaks your hair, trails down your skin. you let yourself open your eyes and look directly at him. 

blonde, irregular strands of wet hair stick to the sides of his face, blue tips brushing his chin. his skin is pale, but soft, and the rain of the shower slips over his muscles, traces the silhouette of the blue rose on his neck, down his arm. his gaze is still intense, but he smiles softly at you.

he looks like a sacred image, too surreal to be standing before you —you try to reach for it.

your hand goes to his cheek, little bit flushed from the warm water. you trace his features with your fingertips —the curve of his chin, the corner of his lips, the tip of his nose, the tattooed red line under both his eyes. 

michael kaiser is very much real, standing in front of you.

still, you can’t help but think you’re in presence of something blessed, something divine, as you watch the round water drops rest between his eyelashes. when he blinks and they fall, it looks as if he’s crying. 

but it is you, you realize, the one who’s crying, when he brings the shampoo to your head and starts washing your hair slowly, it’s your tears falling from your eyes as he massages your neck, your shoulders and you waist when he spreads the gel all over your body. 

you don’t say anything at all during the whole process —but your body leans into every stroke, like it’s slowly surrending to the touch of love.

after the shower, kaiser takes turns drying your hair and his, and he lets you braid the long blue strands of the back of his head absentmindedly while he brushes yours. 

time moves quickly after that —at least, faster than it has during this whole week. you watch him as you have small bites of the food he brought you, now a little more talkative than before, dressed in the clean clothes that smell like his fabric softener —as he changes the sheets on your bed and cleans up the mess your room had become.

the room has aired out while you were showering. the window is now closed, and the blinds are down. all the light, instead of coming from your phone —now turned off and forgotten on the nightstand, at least for tonight— comes from the starry lights hanging on the wall over your bed.

now it looks a little more like your room and a little less like a pit of despair.

your boyfriend has changed clothes too. he's no longer wearing his street clothes —which he's neatly stored in his space of your closet— but the silk robe he usually leaves at your house. his blond hair is pulled back in a half-updo at the nape of his neck, unruly blue strands sticking out. he's also put on his glasses —the ones he used to avoid wearing, but never forgets now since you told him you like how they look on him.

the air doesn’t feel heavy anymore. it’s warm, you think, as you let him wrap you in the freshly made blanket next to him. it’s comfortable, now that he’s here.

“so?” he asks, and then kisses your neck, and your chin, and your nose. you let out a soft giggle, and he feels his chest explode with affection for you “what’s it gonna be? movie, talk, sleep? or any other ideas?”

you smile faintly, and you snuggle up against him. his arms now surround your waist, his chest serving as your pillow. you can feel the rhythm of his pulse on your cheek.

“can we just stay like this for a while?” you whisper, voice small, almost unsure —but soft in a way it hadn’t been for days.

kaiser chuckles under his breath, and kisses the top of your head.

“that’s exactly the plan i was thinking about, love,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “wish granted.”

you laugh —a small, sleepy laugh that feels almost foreign to your own ears after the week you’ve had. but it’s real, and it makes kaiser’s hold around you tighten just a little.

there’s no need to talk anymore. no need for a movie or to pretend everything’s okay. the only thing that matters right now is the weight of his hand resting gently on your back, the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet rhythm of your breathing finally syncing in peace.

and, a few minutes later, when you ask to yourself why is he so kind to you —how does he know exactly what you need, just the way you need it— you remember that first night you spent crying together, curled up on your bed —when he emptied himself in front of you, confessing everything he had never told anyone out loud.

you open one eye, and you shift your gaze to the desk, where you find a single blue rose in a fine, clear glass vase. then you understand it —he knows, because he’s had it even worse. and he would never allow someone he loves, someone who loves him, go through the same thing he did.

kaiser is asleep behind you, wrapping you in between his arms as if scared of letting you go. 

but you don’t feel the need to run away anymore. you draw a faint, calm smile for the first time in the week, and snuggle up against him. then you kiss his hand, that's softly resting close to your neck —he’s not trying to hold you down, just hold you close. 

for the first time in a while, neither of you feels like too much —just enough, for each other.

masterlist.

pls lmk what u think in the comments, reblogging, through messages, asks or wtv!! feedback is important to me in these first posts and i'd appreciate it a lot 🤲🏼

﹫luvseisagi, may 2025.

[stray-kaz]

The Sleepover : a Yeon Sieun x f!reader oneshot

Summary: Sieun's dad is away for the weekend. He invites you to your first sleepover. Unsupervised.

A/N: this is a continuation of Sleep Study, some time down the track. They're probably heading towards eighteen, so please, only those of suitable age. Warm intimacy ahead.

Sieun waited for you when school had finished on Monday, leaning against the brick wall, patient and quiet. Doleful eyes becoming soft the second they rested on you and his hands came up to hold your hips as you leaned into his body.

"Hi" you said softly, and he shifted so he could gently press his forehead to yours.

Unnoticed by both of you, Suho passed by, grinning and rolling his eyes. You two were so far down the rabbit hole, he was surprised either of you could still see in front of you. He knew Sieun was nervous as hell about something, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

"My dad is away on a work trip this weekend" Sieun says finally, his fingers digging a little more firmly into your hips through your skirt.

You nodded, listening and enjoying the feel of his chest against yours. His heart was beating a little erratically, which was unusual. He hardly ever displayed fear or nerves, and when you were kissing, you were too busy wondering if he could feel your heartbeat to worry about the state of his.

"Do you want to come over and stay Friday night?"

His question was barely a breath and you had to ask him to repeat it. He did and your heart doubled in speed, your ribs barely able to contain it. Sieun waited, watching you, accustomed by now to the stunned silences that arrived whenever he asked you a personal question. Do you want to come over and study? Can I be your boyfriend? What's your favourite flower? What's French kissing? And now this.

He prodded your cheek lightly and your eyes snapped to his.

"Remember to breathe" he murmured, smiling faintly.

You shivered slightly and bit your lip on a smile.

"Yes" you answered him, eventually. "I would like that. Shall I bring snacks?"

Without really thinking about it, Sieun dragged one hand up and down your back, pressing you even closer against him. Your nose pressed into his shoulder and you simply...deflated, whole body going boneless. He loved when he had this effect on you, when you could barely stand up because of the butterflies rioting in your stomach. When you felt so safe with him and you knew he could hold you up.

"Snacks sound good" he said quietly.

In the middle of the week, Sieun found himself standing in the scariest pharmacy aisle in the world. Birth control products and pregnancy tests mocked him with their shiny boxes. He didn't know what he was doing here. Or he did. Sort of.

He didn't know for sure if it would happen, but he had to be ready in case it did. Hope fluttered feathers in his chest.

Suho had told him he needed to communicate with you, ask questions, learn what you liked and didn't, talk you through...? Whatever that meant. But you liked him how he was. You said so. At least once a week. He just had to hope you still liked his silence in his bed. If it got that far.

His mind returned unwillingly to the task at hand, staring at each and every different kind of condom known to mankind. Plain, ribbed, flavoured? What size? His head spun. There were fewer choices to make in an exam.

Older guys came and went, glancing at him with amused eyes as they made their choices and left him there, standing alone and increasingly more confused. Until, finally, one man in his twenties took pity on him. He picked out a plain box and handed it to him.

"Sometimes simple is best, kid" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Don't think so hard about it. If you're here, she already likes you, right? You're halfway already!"

He clapped him on the shoulder and Sieun blinked, closing his fist around the box. He nodded slowly in lieu of a bow, and went up to the counter to pay, unable to look the female cashier in the eye. He shoved the box into his backpack and pushed through the door, headed out into the dark for home.

At home hidden away in his room, Sieun sat at his desk, hunched over an anatomy book, occasionally shooting rapid glances at his desk drawer, hyper aware of the box of condoms stashed at the back of it. He pored over the diagrams of female anatomy with the hard focus of exam prep.

He didn't know if you were going to allow him to touch you, but if you did, he needed to be prepared to know where he was going. He had some idea. Kissing you up to now almost always ended with you climbing into his lap and making soft kitten noises as you rubbed against him, gone a little mindless with need while he tried to figure out where to put his hands.

So, clearly, your body responded to his.

His bedroom door opened without warning and he hastily covered the anatomy pages with a school work book as his father poked his head into the room. A flicker of suspicion passed in his eyes, but then it was gone as quick as it had arrived.

"Have you eaten?"

Eyes a little too wide for innocence and heart pounding, Sieun nodded.

"Yeah. I'm good."

A beat passed and his door closed again. He sighed in relief and went right back to the drawings.

A familiar arm slung itself around your shoulders and you tilted your head to look up into Suho's smiling dark eyes.

"So...big weekend ahead for you guys, huh?" he asked you, waggling his eyebrows.

You shoved him, but he hardly budged, laughing.

"Shut up, Suho" you retorted, elbowing his side. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think I do" he argued, grinning. "Your first sleepover!"

You were saved from having to bluster your way through a response by the warm, strong hand sliding into yours and the hard, flat look Sieun shot Suho.

"Stop pestering her" he muttered. "Go find your girlfriend. Bother her instead."

Suho shot him a delighted grin.

"I think I will."

He loped back down the hallway and Sieun squeezed your hand.

"Ready? Do you have your pajamas?"

You shook your head, turning a delicate shade of pink.

"No. I thought I could borrow some of your clothes instead?"

Sieun's steps faltered slightly as he swallowed hard. He couldn't lie; the sudden image in his head of you padding around in his clothes sent a bolt of lightning right through him.

He was brought back to the corridor by you squeezing his hand and quietly saying his name.

"Sieun-ah" you murmured. "Is that okay? If it's not, I can go home first to get pajamas."

Sieun shook his head, eyeing you sidelong.

"No" he said, his voice coming out harsh and gravelly; he cleared his throat to fix it. "No. It's fine. I have...clothes you can wear."

Your answering smile kickstarted his heart and he bit his lip remembering the secret hidden in his desk drawer at home.

The TV was off, its screen black. The lights were dimmed, the living room warm and easy with impending sleep. Empty snack packets covered the low table. You lay with your feet curled up on the couch, your head on Sieun's lap, half asleep, his hand shaking slightly as he petted your hair. You were still in your uniform, and his eyes kept straying to the spot where the hem of your skirt met your thighs.

You yawned and his hand stopped. You reached up to pat the back of it, urging it onward.

"Why'd you stop?" you mumbled sleepily.

He smiled at the blank television screen.

"You're falling asleep" he murmured back. "I think it's time for bed. You can shower first. I got a towel ready for you."

You lifted your head and stumbled up off the couch, pausing only to grab clean underwear from your backpack before heading into the bathroom.

Sieun's head moved in the direction of the sound of water running and he closed his eyes to the knowledge that you were probably naked now. Naked and in his home, alone. Just the two of you together.

He stood up and started pacing, wearing a path in the carpet as he imagined hot water sluicing down your body, turning it pink, sliding past all the places he hadn't touched yet.

He had driven himself nearly insane by the time you walked back in, but his eyes and his entire demeanor softened when he saw you in his white hoodie. It swamped you in soft fabric, and from just beneath the hem, peeked a pair of his boxers, whisper soft against your skin.

You stuck your hands in the big front pocket and smiled shyly at him.

"It's comfy" you told him, quiet in the sudden silence. "Thank you."

Sieun didn't say anything. He just strode for you, cupped your face in his warm hands and took your mouth with a gasp of barely suppressed need. You whimpered in response and he growled quietly against your lips; your knees failed and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you up, flush against him. Chest, stomach, hips, all pressed close. Weak fingers gripped his rumpled collar, anything to ground yourself.

He breathed you in, sucked on your lower lip, bit at it, bruised it. Fever gripped him as your hands dug at his shoulders, found the heated sides of his neck, tunneled into his hair. The one person he didn't mind touching it, he wanted your hands in it.

You tasted like peppermint toothpaste, the last thing that had passed your lips, and he knew he probably tasted like whatever sour candy you had forced him to try, but he didn't care and you clearly didn't, judging by the battle you were fighting with his teeth, to get past and touch his tongue. You found it, sucked on it, his knees shifted hard under him.

"Jagi" he panted, breaking free to hold his forehead to yours. "Do you want - "

"Yes" you whispered fast. "Do you?"

He opened his eyes slowly to look into yours, his pupils swirling vortexes of desire. He glanced down at the same time he pushed impossibly nearer to you and you felt the proof of how badly he wanted to. Uniform trousers couldn't hide much. He heard you bite back a moan, forcing it back down your throat, felt your fingers curling, tightening in his hair. He sighed.

"Bed."

You nodded and he led you into his room, trying to ignore the uncomfortable press of his zip. He was used to the feeling from the too short, always interrupted minutes of your weight in his lap, pressing down, needing but never getting. He wondered if after those times, you dealt with the aching problem yourself, or if, like him, you couldn't bear to because it wouldn't be the same.

Now. Now...you could fix it together.

And also now...now you were pressing at the front of his pants, gentle pressure from your palm turning to more eager pushing when he grunted quietly at your touch. The fingers of your other hand snuck towards his zip, even pulled it halfway down before he stopped you, briefly shaking his head. You looked at him, waiting. His mouth twisted slightly, as if he didn't want to admit the words but needed to. So that you understood him.

"If you touch me first, it'll be over before it's started" he said, voice low. "I haven't...done anything since you fell asleep on my bed. I've been holding out for you."

Your eyes widened, blinking between the apparent strain in his pants and the slightly devastated look on his face.

"Oh" you said in the quietest, most desperate voice he'd ever heard.

Then your hands were on him, plucking at the buttons on his shirt until they loosened, and your longing gaze dragged from the golden column of his throat revealed by the loose collar to the surprising broad of his chest and the smooth planes of his stomach. At your insistent tugs, Sieun shrugged out of the white shirt and let it drop to the floor. He felt your eager eyes all over him, committing him to memory. Then all of a sudden, unable to wait again, greedy for him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, open and heated, the familiar ache building between your thighs.

You pushed and he went, stepping back to sit on the edge of his bed, your sweet familiar weight sinking into his lap dragging a whimper up his throat. You matched your hips to his, already beginning the slow easy grind that swept all thoughts clean out of his head, and yours.

Sieun kissed like you were fragile, blown glass ready to shatter if he held you too tight, a contrast to his usual firm grasp on your hips as you moaned unintelligible sounds into his mouth. As if now that his dream was coming true, he was afraid to let it. So you took his hands and led them up to your chest, molding his palms against the shape of your breasts through the thick fabric of his hoodie you wore. The animal howl he released into your mouth sent a dart of heat right down through your belly, and you gently squeezed his hands over you.

"It's okay" you mumbled against his lips, gentle and swollen pressed to yours. "Touch."

He learned you through the hoodie while you touched him in turn, his face hot beneath your questing hands, his shoulders sloped and warm, arms strong and quivering leading to where he touched you. Your favourite part of him now you'd seen it, his stomach, tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, as you traced it, gently at first and then firmer.

"Sieun, you're so..." you murmured against his mouth, trying to pull the best word from your heat befuddled mind. "...good."

He sighed and stroked a firm hand down your back, landing on your ass and pushing you against him. You rocked slowly, and he felt you suddenly holding your breath, trying to concentrate instead on the pulse building between your thighs.

"Jagi" he whispered, and pushed his hands up the front of his hoodie on you to rub gentle thumbs over your nipples.

You bit your lip on a quiet whimper and shifted faster over him. Sieun stopped kissing you to watch your face, smoky brown eyes wide as you flew apart on his lap. You slowed and melted against him, nuzzling into the side of his neck as your hips twitched continuously with tiny aftershocks. He rubbed your back and murmured broken words of praise into your hair.

"Yah" he said softly. "We don't have to if you're done."

You shook your head and stumbled backwards off his lap on trembling legs.

"No, please" you begged, desperation edging your tone. "I love you, I want you, Yeon Sieun."

His pupils blew wide as a planet and you hurried to pull his hoodie off over your head, sending your hair flying into disarray. He didn't notice your hair. He noticed the sweet flare of your hips in his boxers, the softness of your stomach and the peaks of your breasts. Your chest rose and fell rapidly under the intensity of his gaze, your cheeks flushing his favourite colour.

Then, surprising you, Sieun got up and moved around you to his desk, pulling open the drawer and fumbling inside it. He tossed something onto the bed and your eyes followed it, widening slightly when you recognised what it was. Then you heard the soft shuffle of his pants coming off and tried to turn, but he was already right up behind you, only three layers of cotton between you and what you really wanted to be inside you.

And then there were only two layers as he shucked off his boxers and pressed himself against you, gently rocking until you whined and spread your legs so he fitted in between them, his arms wrapped around you, one hand spread over your stomach.

"I'm sorry if I'm quiet" he mumbled. "I promise I'll like it."

You let out a soft pleased sound and Sieun carefully grabbed the sides of his boxers you were wearing, hooking his thumbs into the sides of your underwear and pulling them both down together. You stepped out of them and he rose up behind you again, reaching around to slip an eager hand down over your stomach and lower, fingers softly swirling until he found what he was looking for.

You cried out in surprise, jerking forward slightly, and Sieun pulled you gently back to him with a hand firm on your hip, intent on learning. He toyed you out of your shell, teasing, drawing lazy figure eights then faster, tighter circles, until you were shaking against him and keening loudly and his fingers were wet and slick.

"I knew I could do it if I studied hard enough" he muttered, seemingly to himself.

You choked on a laugh and fell forward onto the bed, crawling away from him. He was mesmerised by the slow sway of your hips and became suddenly too aware of how painfully hard he was. He watched you flip onto your back, knees apart, and reach to pick up the box he'd tossed earlier. You opened it and pulled out a foil packet, holding it out to him.

As Sieun ripped it carefully open and followed the instructions to the letter, you climbed under his covers. He followed you hastily, a faint chill chasing him now that he wasn't touching you. You clung to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him, feeling him prod your inner thigh.

He kissed you, sweet and slow, until his breath came too heavy to concentrate on anything but the hard weight of him pressing just out of reach of where you both wanted him. He reached down to touch your thighs, ease them further apart for him, pressed his lips to yours, one, two, three times.

"I hope it doesn't hurt" he whispered to you, his words shaking slightly. "I'm not going to last long. I hope it's okay."

You kissed him again, sucking lightly on his lower lip before he had to pull away to see what he was doing. You watched his expression get hazy and heard him moan a curse as he looked down at you, warm and expectant for him.

The brief pressure, the tiniest spark of pain, were nothing compared with his tightly closed eyes, jaw so tense it might shatter and the fact he had stopped moving entirely out of fear he wouldn't even make it all the way in before filling the condom. You reached up to touch his face, stroking his cheek, brushing your thumb down his nose.

"Sieun" you murmured. "You okay?"

He nodded tightly.

"Yeah. Just...wait for me? I - I can't...I don't want to come yet."

You nodded, then tilted his head down so you could kiss him, your mind going pleasantly blank as you breathed him in and your hips started moving on their own as they always did whenever you were kissing him. Sensation pushed solidly through you and you gasped, head throwing back just in time for Sieun to groan a strangled noise into your throat.

You barely knew what you'd done, but your body was singing it to you, all chords humming and blazing at once: he was inside you. You stretched languorously and Sieun rocked gently, desperately deeper inside you, keening quietly. You gazed up at him, wonderstruck, hitching your hips with each of his careful thrusts.

He was quiet, but not totally. The room filled with soft moans, the slip of sheets on skin, the barely restrained desperation of trying not to come too fast.

But he couldn't help it. You were too good, too warm and wet and sweet wrapped around him, crying out to him each time he moved. You cried his name, fingers in his hair, and he was gone.

He finished with a gasp of your name and a shudder, spilling out and collapsing onto your chest. You held him tight, still warm and full of him. Until he started to worry the condom might break and slowly eased out of you to get rid of it.

When he returned to his bed, he was blushing and shy, shoulders rounding. But you sat up, still naked, and hugged him, fierce and close.

"You're perfect" you whispered in his ear. "Let's do it again tomorrow."

You had never seen him smile so big.

Tagging: @writingmysanity

[erwinsvow]

Do you think pope is embarrassed/ uncomfortable with PDA? Especially in front of his family?

He gives me the vibe that he would hate pda but at the same time maybe he loves it? Maybe he likes claiming his girl, especially if someone else flirts with her. Idk?

this is such a good question!! i don't think pope is embarrassed particularly, because i think some part of him would really like that other people get to see that he finally has what he wanted, maybe like some part of him that thinks he could never be 'normal' in the way he wanted so this is his way of almost feeling normal? if that makes sense? like normal in the way that you never flinch away from his hands, that you lean against his arm and rest your head against him when you're both standing and waiting in some line (probably coffee, probably for you, he likes the stuff at home but you like going out for it and he takes you even though he already had a cup that he made). normal in the way that you smile and hug him when he comes to pick you up at your door (before you two live together) even when your neighbors are around, even if his brothers are there... idk i love him so much and i honestly don't know how anyone would resist being affectionate because he's so touch starved.

and in the same way he's a 'my wife this' and 'my wife that' kind of guy, i think he is clingy but not PDA, if that makes sense. especially in front of his family! i don't think he'd let you walk anywhere by yourself, i don't think his hand would leave your thigh at the dinner table, i don't think he would let go of your waist if you were standing. that i think is the possessiveness coming out because he's worried if he lets go you will literally disappear and get sucked into his family's issues and he won't get you back. i also think esp for wifey (i just love them bad lol) he would be so guarded bringing you around everyone but he can't separate it because he wants to marry you and have you protected incase something happens to him.. you know what i really think?? i think he gets affectionate more often in front of baz or smurf because he knows those are the people who would be most threatened by him having someone just in his corner.. like actually does not let go of your body, he's in complete guard dog mode. which is why him going to prison and having to entrust you in their care would be so much more angsty... has to ask baz to take care of you and torments himself because he just is plagued by what might happen if baz decides he wants you for himself or whatever the case might be. and also smurf who he knows would never like you, since you keep him level-headed and calm and smurf likes being the only one who can do that. but like i said i think smurf would play the long game with wifey and try to be nice to her to manipulate pope through her.

this is not even what you asked, i'm so sorry. i think after prison so when the show starts pope would be extremely clingy and guarded and doesn't want to expose you to his family but if he has to, trust that he's there hovering right behind you with a hand on your waist, always takes the seat right next to you, doesn't let you get in anyone else's car and gets angry if they won't let you stay for family meetings, through which he keeps one tense hand on your knee the entire time. i think all he says is my wife and i think yeah, he's not making out with you in front of everyone all day or being sappy and soft like you two are at home, but it's very clear to anyone with eyes that you two are very attached. and i think when he gets hurt and you're there to help him or whatever is one of the only times he doesn't care what everyone sees and is just happy that you're there with him. like that scene where he's bleeding coming out of the pool, like he lets you run up to him in your swimsuit and fuss over his wound while the others watch, or when his arm got hurt in the ambulance, like doesn't say anything when you (obviously) run to him first or when you check on it over the next few days and i think he just likes it when others can see how much you care about him, even if he's not physically showing it to them through pda. and do not get me started on guard dog pope when someone tries to flirt with you lol i'll be here for hours

[bisnes-socks]

Justice for Love yourself!!!

Can you please explain why it's clearly the superior Bojere moment

YES I CAN. THANK YOU FOR ASKING.

now listen up people, especially those of you who let love yourself lose in round two of the vote. because this is one of THE bojere moments of all time and y'all let a real one get away.

because let's look at some evidence shall we. let's break down what is actually happening here.

Bojan's Bieber Journey

look at this man back in ESC 23. who is he. this is a man who is nervous as fuck, because he is sitting next to his new crush and now his crush is saying something about being boyfriends ?!?!?!?! LOOK AT HIS FACE. HE CAN'T HANDLE IT.

oh but it was a justin bieber reference, i can do a justin bieber song, he thinks. and then his crush is saying keep me, keep me. and he melts, oh how he melts.

but when justin bieber became their thing the first time, bojan was not ready for it. he is holding back, he doesn't know how to act around jere, he doesn't know what to do, he is awkward and crushing hard.

but then!!! nordic tour comes around!! and so much has happened since they met. and the moment presents itself, to make another justin bieber joke.

and this time, BOJAN IS FUCKING READY.

he has been on his jere journey. (he has been on his knees too, where everyone could see.) he is no longer awkward around jere, no. he is ready to play and he is ready to FLIRT.

so when his justin bieber redemption moment arrives, he puts his all into it. jere wants justin bieber? justin bieber he shall get.

2. The Double Sunglasses Situation

bojan (and this is an actual real transcription of his actual words and also thoughts): khihihihi i got your sunglasses what are you going to do about it, kiss me? well you're not getting them back. you're gonna have to wrestle me to the floor and sit on top of me and take them. oh are you going to tickle me about it? oh are we going to be rolling on the floor, our chests pressed together? oh are you going to breathe hard into my face? oh noooooo how could this happen khihihihihi and also hehehehehe.

let us not sit here and pretend that bojan wearing not only his own sunglasses on top of his head, but jere's on his face, isn't the most classic move for playfully teasing your crush.

you know, in your heart of hearts you all know, that he pulled those sunglasses sensually off of jere's face. you know he gave him one of his signature looks at the lips. you fucking know this.

3. Have You Ever Seen Jere Smile Like THAT

look at his face?! literally go back up and watch the video again. focus on his face. do i have to say more?! HE LOVES HIS BOJAN.

4. The Joker Boys and The Very Inconvenient Crush That Interrupts Their Workday

because what the fuck are bojan and jere even doing here. in the middle of a work day. with, i promise you, the rest of the band on stage, setting things up, giving each other looks like can you actually believe these two idiots.

just picture it. bojan and jere rolling around on the floor, giggling and play fighting over sunglasses while the other joker out guys huff and puff and cough very loudly setting up their little (not so little) stage.

those lovebirds could not give two shits!! all of the equipment could have spontaniously combusted and they would have been like ok well let us know when you guys have fixed it, we'll be over here looking at each other in the eyes and stroking each other's di- hair. they like to stroke each other's hair.

EDIT: OH AND BOJAN IS WEARING JERE'S SHIRT SO THERE IS THAT.

IN CONCLUSION:

Love Yourself is one of THE Bojere Moments of all time, it deserved so much better in the vote, and anyone who doesn't agree is just plain wrong.

CASE CLOSED. BANG, BANG, BANG.

[cup1drul3z]

★ — MY BLOODY VALENTINE | Ch 6

4.7ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW: Stalking, Angst, Smut, TOXIC yuri, death, murder, 1980s, mention of blood, depression, homophobia, masturbation, dub-con, size kink if you squint, mommy kink, corruption, virginity, fingering, this shit is dark - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

A/N: i know i said this would be a final but i couldnt fit it under 30 pages

Vi slammed the mailbox shut harder than she meant to, the rusty metal groaning under her hand.

Bills. Junk flyers. And one plain white envelope.

No stamp. No return address. Just her name. Violet. Scrawled in tight, aggressive handwriting across the front.

Her stomach twisted immediately.

She tore it open on the spot, glancing up and down the empty street out of habit. The neighborhood was dead quiet—most families still sleeping in or getting ready for the Saturday farmers’ market.

Inside the envelope?

One single sheet of notebook paper.

At first glance, nothing weird.

At second glance— Her blood ran cold.

Scrawled in thick black ink:

Some people don’t know when to mind their business.

It would be a shame if you ended up like Viktor.

Back off.

No name.

No signature.

But Vi didn’t need one.

She crumpled the letter tightly in her fist, her teeth grinding.

Because she could smell Sevika’s fingerprints all over it.

The tone. The precision. The ownership.

She knew.

But Vi wasn’t scared. Not exactly.

She was angry.

Because now it wasn’t just about being a good friend.

You were restocking tapes at the record store, fingers running absently over rows of plastic cases, the soft hum of some indie rock band playing on the store speakers. It should’ve felt normal. Safe.

It didn’t.

Your heart still raced too easily. Your hands still shook sometimes when you thought about Viktor’s face framed in all those carnations.

You were so distracted that you didn’t notice Vi walking in at first— Not until she slid into your peripheral vision, leaning casually against the end of the aisle like she just happened to be there.

You looked up and smiled weakly. “Hey.”

Vi didn’t smile back.

She just watched you for a second, her usual cocky energy strangely muted.

“Got a minute?” she asked.

You hesitated, glancing around the mostly empty store.

Mel wasn’t on shift yet. It was just you and the dusty air.

“Yeah,” you said, shelving the last tape and brushing your hands on your jeans. “What’s up?”

Vi motioned for you to follow her outside, to the alley beside the store. You hesitated again— but you followed.

The second the door swung shut behind you, Vi’s whole body shifted—tense, vibrating with energy like she was about to punch something.

“I got a letter,” she said without any lead-up. “This morning.”

You blinked. “A letter?”

She pulled it from her back pocket—crumpled now from how tightly she’d been holding it.

You smoothed it out automatically.

Your stomach dropped.

You read the words once. Twice.

It would be a shame if you ended up like Viktor.

Your vision tunneled for a second.

You looked up at Vi, heart pounding. “Who… who would send something like this?”

Vi just stared at you.

And for the first time, you saw the hesitation—the split-second debate behind her eyes.

She could tell you.

She could tell you she knew.

But something in her—the same instinct that kept her alive when things went bad—told her you weren’t ready to hear it.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

So she said, instead, voice low and tight: “I don’t know.”

She folded the letter back up with shaking hands.

“But you need to be careful.”

You nodded. Swallowed hard.

Vi turned to go—then hesitated at the door.

And threw over her shoulder:

“And if anyone makes you feel like you can’t breathe? If anyone tries to tell you who you’re allowed to talk to?”

She looked back at you, dead serious.

“That’s not love.”

And then she was gone.

Leaving you standing there—

Alone.

Holding a letter that reeked of smoke and danger.

You couldn't sleep.

You kept tossing and turning, the blankets twisting around your legs, your mind racing in circles you couldn’t break out of.

Vi’s warning replayed in your head over and over.

That’s not love.

You squeezed your eyes shut and rolled onto your side—but it didn’t help.

Because the second you opened them again—

You were staring right at it.

The teddy bear.

Still sitting on your wardrobe.

Still staring back.

You hated how your stomach twisted every time you looked at it now. How the warmth it used to give you had curdled into something cold and sour in your gut.

You pushed the blanket off and sat up.

You told yourself you were being stupid. Paranoid. Crazy.

But your hands still moved before your brain caught up.

You crossed the room in three quick steps, yanked the bear off the wardrobe, and held it in your hands. It was heavier than it should be—too heavy—and you realized you’d always known that.

Your heart raced.

Your fingers shook.

You hesitated just a second—

Then grabbed the bear by the seams and ripped.

The stitching split under your hands with a soft tearing sound, stuffing spilling out onto the floor in messy, frantic clumps.

And then— Something clattered out and hit the floorboards with a tiny metallic clink.

You froze.

Your chest heaved.

You looked down.

Nestled among the torn stuffing was a small, black device.

A lens.

A wire.

A tiny red light still blinking faintly.

You stumbled back, dropping the bear’s gutted carcass at your feet.

It had been watching you. Recording you. All along.

Your throat tightened.

Your hands were shaking so hard you could barely breathe.

And somewhere—where you couldn’t see, but you knew—

Sevika had been watching, too.

And she probably was watching right now.

You stumbled back until your knees hit the bed, and you collapsed onto it, gasping for air you couldn’t seem to get into your lungs.

Your chest was tight. Your vision blurred at the edges. Your heart hammered against your ribs like it wanted out.

The blinking red light of the camera on the floor was the only thing you could see clearly—mocking you.

She watched you. She listened to you. She planned every second.

You pressed your hands to your face, choking on a sob that refused to stay buried.

How long? How many nights? How many moments you thought were yours—private—had she stolen from you?

You curled in on yourself, rocking slightly, trying to breathe through it, but every thought crashed into the next like a tidal wave you couldn’t outrun.

You should hate her. You should call the police. You should run.

But underneath all that terror—

Underneath the violation and the betrayal—

There was something worse.

Something you couldn’t kill.

Something warm and desperate and still reaching for her.

You loved her.

You loved Sevika.

Even now.

Even knowing.

Even when you shouldn’t.

You gasped in another shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut so tight it hurt.

“I hate you,” you whispered, voice cracking.

“I hate you.”

But it didn’t feel true.

It didn’t feel real.

Because somewhere inside you—buried deep enough that you couldn't touch it, but close enough to poison everything—

You still wanted her.

You still needed her.

You still belonged to her.

Even if it destroyed you.

Especially if it did.

You sat on the bed, hyperventilating, clutching the shredded teddy bear to your chest like it could somehow fix any of this.

The camera still blinked faintly on the floor, the tiny light cutting through the haze of your panic.

You tried to breathe. Tried to think. Tried to remind yourself that you could still get out—that you weren’t trapped.

But then you shifted—just slightly—and felt it again.

That small, sharp ache on your hip.

You froze.

Your hand slid down under your hoodie, fingertips brushing over the spot where Sevika’s teeth had been—where her hands had roamed when you were too high, too warm, too desperate to think.

You found it—

A small, raised line.

Your skin pulsed under your touch, still healing.

Still raw.

And when you pulled your hoodie up and twisted just enough to see it in the mirror—

You almost threw up.

S.

Carved into your skin. Deliberate. Precise. Deep enough to scar.

Not a brand. Not a tattoo. A carving.

Done with a knife or a blade when you were so lost in her you didn’t even realize it.

Or maybe you did.

Maybe you just didn’t want to realize it.

You stared at it, your chest heaving, vision swimming, every nerve screaming RUN—

And yet...

Your fingers brushed it again, trembling.

And somewhere deep inside the hollow pit of your heart, past all the terror and betrayal and shame—

You felt something sick and undeniable:

You were hers now.

You had been from the start.

And maybe...

Maybe you didn't want to be saved.

The halls felt emptier somehow.

Not because there were fewer people—but because Sevika wasn’t there.

No figure leaning against your locker. No steady hand brushing your arm between classes. No burning gaze tracing your every move like you were the only thing in the room worth looking at.

You tried not to notice.

You tried not to flinch every time you turned a corner and didn’t find her waiting.

But you felt it.

The absence.

The cold.

And when you sat down at lunch, it was like the whole world had shifted a few inches to the left.

You picked at your sandwich listlessly, your stomach in knots too tight to eat.

You didn’t even hear her coming until she was already sliding onto the bench beside you.

Jinx.

You looked up, startled—and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t sneering, wasn’t angry, wasn’t looking at you like you were a stranger.

She just... smiled. Small. Hesitant.

“Hey.”

You blinked. “Hey.”

She leaned her arms on the table, swinging her feet under the bench like she couldn’t quite sit still. Typical Jinx.

"I saw you sitting alone," she said after a second, voice light but careful. “That’s new.”

You looked down at your tray, your throat tight. “Yeah. Guess it is.”

Silence stretched between you for a second.

Then she nudged your elbow lightly.

“I missed you, y'know.”

You looked up at her, heart squeezing.

Because you remembered— late nights laughing until you couldn’t breathe, sleepovers with pizza and horror movies, the way she always said "you and me against the world."

Before everything got twisted.

Before Sevika.

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t trust your voice not to crack.

Jinx smiled a little wider, almost shyly, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to.

“Maybe you could... sit with me today?” she offered, trying to sound casual. “If you want.”

Your hand curled tighter around the edge of your tray.

Part of you screamed yes. Part of you whispered it’s too late.

And somewhere across the cafeteria, hidden among the crowd—

Sevika watched.

Jaw tight. Eyes cold.

And though she was the one who stepped back first—

She hated seeing you loved by someone else.

Even if she had no one to blame but herself.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words stuck.

Jinx looked at you, hopeful.

Open.

Familiar.

Safe.

And all you could think about was Sevika.

How she hadn’t touched you. Hadn’t looked at you. How she wanted you alone. How she wanted you obedient.

How every moment you spent away from her was somehow... a betrayal.

Your palms started to sweat.

You swallowed hard and pushed back from the table, grabbing your tray with clumsy, fumbling hands.

Jinx blinked. “Hey—wait, where are you—?”

“I have a cold,” you blurted, voice too sharp, too fast. “I shouldn’t—be around people.”

You didn’t look at her.

You couldn’t.

You just turned and walked away, shoulders hunched, heat burning behind your eyes.

The second you dumped your barely-touched lunch in the trash, you rushed out of the cafeteria, ignoring the way your chest was tightening

In the shadow of the hallway, leaning casually against a row of lockers—

Sevika stood.

Arms crossed over her chest.

Watching.

Waiting.

Smiling.

Because you had made the right choice.

Her choice.

Because you belonged to her.

Even when she wasn’t touching you. Even when she wasn’t speaking. Even when you were hurting.

Especially then.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The silence. The distance. The empty room and the way the shadows pressed against your skin like fingers.

You needed her.

No matter how wrong it was. No matter how much it hurt.

You shoved open your window and climbed out, the cold air hitting your face like a slap. You didn’t even bother with your shoes—you just ran, bare feet slapping against the pavement, heart thundering.

Sevika’s house loomed at the end of the street like it had been waiting for you.

You didn’t hesitate.

You didn’t knock.

You pounded your fists against the door until it swung open—and there she was.

Sevika. Hair messy. Eyes wild. Wearing nothing but a loose T-shirt and sweatpants like she'd just woken up.

Her mouth opened to say something— But you didn’t let her.

You shoved past her into the house, your chest heaving, your hands shaking.

She turned to you, confused, starting to speak—

And you snapped.

You shoved her hard against the wall, fists pounding weakly against her chest, words tumbling out in a scream you couldn't even control:

"WHY?! Why would you do this to me?! Why did you ruin everything?!"

You hit her again. And again. Not hard. Not enough to hurt her.

Just enough to feel something.

She grabbed your wrists—firm, but not cruel—forcing you still.

You struggled for a second, twisting, pulling, crying, but her grip didn’t loosen.

"Let me go!" you sobbed, voice cracking.

"No," she growled, low and rough.

You looked up at her, tears streaming down your face, breathing hard—

And before you could think—

Before you could stop yourself—

Sevika pulled you in and kissed you.

Hard.

Bruising.

Claiming.

And god help you—

You kissed her back.

Desperately. Hungrily. Brokenly.

You pressed into her like you were trying to crawl inside her skin, her hands still holding your wrists pinned between you. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip and you whimpered into her mouth, the world spinning out around you.

You didn’t care.

You didn’t care about the bear. Or the camera. Or the scar healing on your hip.

All you cared about was the way she kissed you like you were hers.

Because you were.

You always had been.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The silence. The distance. The empty room and the way the shadows pressed against your skin like fingers.

You needed her.

No matter how wrong it was. No matter how much it hurt.

You shoved open your window and climbed out, the cold air hitting your face like a slap. You didn’t even bother with your shoes—you just ran, bare feet slapping against the pavement, heart thundering.

Sevika’s house loomed at the end of the street like it had been waiting for you.

You didn’t hesitate.

You didn’t knock.

You pounded your fists against the door until it swung open—and there she was.

Sevika. Hair messy. Eyes wild. Wearing nothing but a loose T-shirt and sweatpants like she'd just woken up.

Her mouth opened to say something— But you didn’t let her.

You shoved past her into the house, your chest heaving, your hands shaking.

She turned to you, confused, starting to speak—

And you snapped.

You shoved her hard against the wall, fists pounding weakly against her chest, words tumbling out in a scream you couldn't even control:

"WHY?! Why would you do this to me?! Why did you ruin everything?!"

You hit her again. And again. Not hard. Not enough to hurt her.

Just enough to feel something.

She grabbed your wrists—firm, but not cruel—forcing you still.

You struggled for a second, twisting, pulling, crying, but her grip didn’t loosen.

"Let me go!" you sobbed, voice cracking.

"No," she growled, low and rough.

You looked up at her, tears streaming down your face, breathing hard—

And before you could think—

Before you could stop yourself—

Sevika pulled you in and kissed you.

Hard.

Bruising.

Claiming.

And god help you—

You kissed her back.

Desperately. Hungrily. Brokenly.

her hands still holding your wrists pinned between you. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip and you whimpered into her mouth, the world spinning out around you.

You didn’t care.

You didn’t care about the bear. Or the camera. Or the scar healing on your hip.

All you cared about was the way she kissed you like you were hers.

Because you were.

You always had been.

Your lungs burned. Your lips throbbed. Your whole body buzzed under your skin like a live wire, too much and not enough all at once.

Sevika finally broke the kiss, her forehead pressing against yours, her breath just as ragged as yours.

Neither of you moved for a second.

Just breathing each other in.

You felt your hands shaking where they were still pinned between you, wrists aching slightly under her grip—but you didn’t pull away.

You didn’t want to.

Sevika loosened her hold slowly, dragging her hands down your arms, your sides, like she needed to feel every inch of you just to prove you were still there. Her fingers brushed under the hem of your hoodie, rough palms against your bare waist.

"You’re mine," she rasped, voice low and feral, the words scraping down your spine like nails.

You nodded, helpless.

Tears still streamed down your face, but you didn’t try to wipe them away.

You didn’t want to.

You leaned into her, burying your face against her chest, the cotton of her T-shirt dampening under your tears.

"I’m sorry," you gasped out, the words a broken whimper against her skin.

Sevika shushed you softly, threading one hand into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

"You don't have to apologize," she murmured. "You came back. That's all that matters."

You clung to her tighter, fists curling into the fabric of her shirt.

Because you knew—even now—that there was no undoing this. No going back. No pretending you could walk away.

She didn't just own your body.

She owned your heart.

Your mind.

Your soul.

And you didn't want it any other way.

Sevika pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing you in like you were oxygen, like you were the only thing keeping her alive.

"I’ll never let anyone take you from me," she whispered.

And part of you— The part still gasping for air, the part still aching for something real— Knew she meant it.

No matter what it cost.

No matter who had to bleed.

The adrenaline had faded, leaving a strange, heavy calm in its place.

The two of you sat on Sevika’s bed, the blankets a tangled mess, the air still thick with the remnants of smoke and sweat and something darker. The only light came from the old lamp on her nightstand, throwing long shadows across the cracked walls.

You sat cross-legged in front of her, Sevika’s arm stretched out between you.

A small pocketknife rested in your hand—hers—heavy and sure.

Your fingers shook at first.

But Sevika didn’t flinch.

She just watched you.

Watched you drag the tip of the blade slowly over her skin, just deep enough to break the surface. Just deep enough to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade.

You bit your lip in concentration as you carefully carved the letter of your initial.

Yours.

You didn’t speak. Neither did she.

The only sound was your soft, shallow breathing and the quiet scrape of metal against flesh.

When you finished, blood welled up in thin, crimson beads along the curve of the letter.

You dropped the knife onto the bedspread, your hands trembling slightly.

Sevika still hadn’t looked away.

She raised her arm, staring at it.

Then she looked at you— eyes dark, wide open, completely yours.

"Im yours now," she murmured, voice hoarse.

You swallowed thickly.

"You always were," you whispered back.

Sevika leaned in, cupping the back of your neck with her unmarked hand, and pulled you into a slow, almost reverent kiss.

There was no anger in it this time.

No violence.

Just a slow, aching kind of possession—

And in the quiet, broken heartbeat between kisses, you realized—

You weren’t scared anymore.

Not of her.

Not of yourself.

Not of what you were becoming.

Because it was too late for that.

You were already hers. And she was already yours. Forever.

It felt normal.

Or at least— As normal as it could get now.

You were sitting on the stone wall just outside the cafeteria, your lunch tray balanced precariously on your lap. Sevika was beside you, knees up and scanning everyone 

“Hows your arm” you run your hand over the bandage and she smirks at the touch

“A kiss will make it feel better” Sevika teases, caressing your thigh

You flush and look away, even still after shes yours you still feel so shy and awkward around her

You felt... light. Almost.

Until you saw Jinx across the courtyard.

Her tray frozen halfway to her table. Her mouth tightening. Her eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

You tried to pretend you didn’t notice. Tried to pretend you weren’t wilting a little under it.

But Sevika noticed.

She always noticed.

Sevika just leaned back against the wall, stretching out her legs, smirking lazily like she owned the entire damn schoolyard—and everyone in it.

Jinx wasn’t subtle.

She stormed past you, shoving her tray down hard on a random table, the slam loud enough to make a few heads turn.

And then—

Vi.

She strolled over, hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket, boots scuffing the dirt.

You looked up and gave her a soft smile—too sweet for the situation.

"Hey, Vi," you said brightly, like nothing was wrong, like you hadn’t been dodging her gaze for days. "How's your day going?"

Vi stopped a few feet from you, her posture stiff, her jaw tight.

"Better," she said after a beat, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

You didn't even notice the way Sevika straightened next to you, sitting up a little, shifting the arm she had behind you like she was about to pull you back into her chest if Vi took even half a step closer.

Vi's eyes flicked to Sevika. she clenched her fists at her sides.

“Well ill see you around” Vi said walking off before you could say anything 

You look at sevika with a side glance “im assuming you were the one who sent the letter” 

Sevika looks up like shes thinking “uhhhh” 

You sat at your vanity, elbows propped on the chipped wooden surface, your fingers trembling slightly as you dragged the eyeliner pencil across your lid for the third time.

It wasn’t working.

The angle was too sharp. The wing was too long. It just didn’t look right.

It looked like her.

And maybe that was the point.

You stared at your reflection—at the thick hoodie swallowing your frame, the black eyeliner smudged under your eyes, the dull gloss on your lips. You looked… not like you. Not really.

But you’d been trying. Trying to look harder. Sharper. Like someone Sevika would love more.

Because Sevika always made you feel like you were too soft. Too sweet. Too glitter and notebooks and flower-print skirts.

Even if she never said that.

Even if… she loved you more than anything, no matter how you looked.

Still— You wanted to fit.

You were wiping the corner of your eye when—

Rrrriiiing.

The landline beside your bed buzzed sharply, breaking your focus.

You blinked and grabbed the receiver, pressing it to your ear.

"Hello?"

There was silence for a second.

Then Jinx's voice exploded through the line:

"You really picked her?"

Your stomach dropped. "Jinx, I—"

"No. Seriously. You picked her?" she said, voice already shaking with rage. “After everything?”

"I didn’t mean to—"

"You did mean to!” she shouted. “You just didn’t care. You left me behind for a girl who’s obsessed with owning you like you're her pet!”

Her words hit you like a slap, but you didn’t hang up.

You deserved to hear it.

“I was the one who stayed,” she snapped. “When you were at your lowest, I was there. I never judged you. I was your best friend.”

"You still are," you whispered.

She went silent.

You clutched the phone tighter. “Jinx… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just—” your voice cracked, “—I’m lost. I’ve been so scared and confused, and Sevika… she makes me feel safe. Even when it’s messed up. Even when I know it’s not normal.”

Another beat of silence. Your throat burned.

“I thought if I changed—if I dressed like her, acted like her—maybe she’d stay. Maybe she’d love me harder. But the thing is…” your voice dropped to a shaky breath, “she already does. And she never asked me to be different.”

You rubbed your eyes, eyeliner smearing further. “She’d probably laugh if she saw what I looked like right now.”

And then—quietly, brokenly—you added:

“I miss you, Jinx.”

The silence that followed wasn’t cold.

It was heavy.

And then finally, her voice came back—quieter. Tired.

“…you really love her, huh?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”

A sigh. Not angry. Just… sad.

“She's still scary as hell, y'know.”

You laughed, wet and soft. “Yeah. I know.”

Another pause.

And then:

“…I miss you too.”

Your breath caught.

“Can we just… start over?” you asked. “Just be friends again?”

On the other end of the line, you could hear Jinx flopping back on her bed.

“…I’ll think about it,” she muttered.

And that meant yes.

You smiled through your tears. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t make me hang out with her,” Jinx grumbled. “She looks like she eats drywall for breakfast.”

You snorted.

“Deal.”

And for the first time in weeks—

You didn’t feel alone.

The halls were mostly empty now, just the occasional echo of lockers slamming or muffled shouts from the gym. You’d stayed late to retake a quiz, and the building felt hollow—drained.

You stepped out into the courtyard, arms wrapped around your books, trying not to look like you were searching for anyone.

But part of you was.

You spotted Vi sitting on the steps near the front entrance, leaning back on her hands, chewing gum like she was bored of everything.

You hesitated. Then walked over.

She looked up when your shadow crossed her legs.

“Oh,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Look who’s out without supervision.”

You froze, tilting your head slightly. “What?”

“Thought you weren’t allowed more than ten feet from your handler,” she said, smirking. “Or whatever Sevika is this week. Owner? Trainer?”

You felt your stomach twist—but not from fear. Not this time.

You set your books down on the steps next to her, jaw tight. “You really think you’re better than her?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “I think I’m not brainwashed.”

You laughed—quiet and bitter. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I knew you before her,” she said, turning toward you now. “You used to be soft. Kind of annoying. But at least you were real. Now it’s like watching someone slowly drown and smile about it.”

That’s what did it.

Something in your brain just… tipped.

Your fingers curled slightly into your lap, the ache in your jaw from how hard you were clenching your teeth grounding you in that moment.

You looked at her.

Really looked.

And realized you didn’t fear her anymore.

You pitied her.

Vi didn’t understand. Not you. Not what this was.

She didn’t see how freeing it felt to burn the old you down.

To start over in blood and steel and fire.

You smiled—not sweet, not fake. Just quiet.

“She didn’t do this to me,” you said. “I did.”

Vi blinked. “…what?”

“I let go of everything that made me weak,” you said softly, eyes fixed on the trees swaying beyond the school fence. “You think I’m trapped? I’ve never felt clearer. Never felt more like myself.”

There was a long pause.

Vi sat up straighter. “You sound fucking insane.”

You didn’t answer.

You just reached for your books, stood up slowly, and gave her a calm, empty look.

“No,” you said.

“I sound free.”

And you walked away—alone.

But smiling.

Because your mind might be broken.

But at least now, it was yours.

@glittzygorilla @vxtanne31 @leeidk87 @spinback-kiva @half-of-a-gay @alessabriel @h3rprinc3zz @koralinebox

[a-compass-without-a-needle]

This is what happened after 3.1 isn't it?

[marshmallowgoop]

No matter how special it is, a kid's lunch is still just a kid's lunch.

I dunno, I liked "The Genius Restaurant" (Episode 1,089).

Happy (belated) birthday, Jimjam.

[Song link] [YouTube link]

[thedrotter]

sweet sweet re:kinder community... I would like to ask y'all how you came upon the game and your experiences with it because i wanna know. im genuinely so curious to hear about other people's experiences and little opinions about this game because of how wild the game is (/pos) I'd love to hear it. do ramble to me about it

[mycenaae]

bravely starting my house md rewatch

[inbabylontheywept]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.

[luveline]

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room. 

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves.

He struggles to breathe through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls. 

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man has come to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay. 

Maybe Hotch will come. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends far less time in the office, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case. 

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known sharply.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him? 

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens. 

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here? Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway. 

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He’s not talking about the golden ratio or statistical beauty, you’re just stunning. You stop him in his tracks whenever you steal into the office. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates. 

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. Spencer squeezes his eyes closed. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.” 

You pull away, Spencer blinking for his life. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office?

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.” 

“They cut my hair?” he croaks. 

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…” 

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows. 

“You look different than the last time I saw you.” 

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. Why the sudden change?

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets. 

Your fingers slip into his with ease. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves. 

“Of course you can.” 

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…” 

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?” 

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart. 

“What happened to you?” he asks. 

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask. 

“What…” 

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes. 

“Uh…” He feels sick to his stomach.

“Spencer?” 

Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap. 

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.” 

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.” 

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer by a UnSub, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously. 

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing. 

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again. 

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks. 

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap. 

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.” 

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek. 

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.” 

“But I do eventually?” 

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly. 

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer. Whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.” 

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says. 

“Sort of,” Spencer says. 

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then. 

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks. 

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?” 

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks. 

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.” 

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag. 

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it. 

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer. 

“Uh.” 

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.” 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says. 

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.” 

“You dog,” Derek says. 

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.” 

“I do know you,” Spencer says. 

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table. 

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says. 

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.” 

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.” 

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.” 

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

“We’re never apart?” he asks. 

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks. 

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze. 

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks. 

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too. 

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.” 

“We do?” 

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can summon the energy. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.” 

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.” 

“How do you love?” 

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your constant propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day.  “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.” 

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says. 

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh. 

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.” 

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger. 

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask. 

“Anything.” 

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams. 

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.” 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” 

“But did you?” 

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.” 

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t a joke. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.” 

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?” 

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily. 

“What do you think?” 

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh. 

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you. 

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock. 

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly. 

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve– You’re still–?”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?” 

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.” 

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile. 

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?” 

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?” 

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on. 

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space. 

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss. 

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely. 

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him. 

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!” 

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.” 

“Some of it’s still hazy, but not so much you.” 

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?” 

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.” 

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery. I thought the worst that could happen was getting a face full of red velvet or something.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.” 

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.” 

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so devious now.” 

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.” 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thanks for reading!

[gyaruhana]

please do one where Thanos starts off as your unlikely ally in the games, protecting you from danger and helping you survive. Over time, his protectiveness becomes obsessive, and he begins eliminating anyone he sees as a threat to keeping you by his side even as you start to notice his unsettling behavior you can’t escape his grasp🙏

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - yandere bf

Synopsis: In an attempt to escape from Thanos, you join a game promising money that will help you escape him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have joined the game.

A/N: I may have combined this with two other requests bc they were all so similar so.. i hope thats okay !!

Warning: yandere thanos, choking

If you had told your younger self you’d be in a game of death with 45.6 billion won up for grabs, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet, it’s true. After the tragedy that was Red Light, Green Light where many people met a rather unfortunate fate, you realized it’d be in your best interest to find someone you can trust and form an alliance with them.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Thanos, happened to also be a part of the games and had been watching you from a distance since he spotted you in the first game. You had originally wanted to get away from him because he was nothing but toxic though now it seems Thanos was one step ahead of you. That, or you just had terrible luck and Thanos decided to come here on his own accord. 

You didn't have time to think about it though because he suddenly got up and left his little group behind to make his way straight to you. He didn't seem happy at all. Perhaps it was because the last conversation you two had was an argument that was left off on a bad note. 

“Where have you been? Were you avoiding me? That makes me really fucking mad, you know,” he says as he grabs your wrist so you can't just walk away from him. Not like there was anywhere to go now. You were stuck with him here. 

“I was just taking some time for myself,” you respond defensively. You really just wanted to get away from him which is why you were here in the first place. Your original plan was to win some money and then disappear so you'd never have to deal with Thanos and his crazy behavior again. It was suffocating to be near him.

“Time for yourself? Don't fucking lie to me,” he says as he brings you closer to him. Nothing about him was gentle. Not his touches, or his kisses, or anything. “Well, you've had your time. You're not leaving my side now,” he continues as he looks down at you with a glare. He wasn't leaving any room for you to defy him. In his eyes, you belonged to him. You were his property and that meant you couldn't go rogue and do what you want. 

“You don't get a say in that,” you say as you lean back slightly to try to create some distance between the two of you. He lets out a bitter laugh before grabbing the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, and forcing you closer. “Yes, I do. In case you forgot, you're stuck in a death game with me. Do you really think anyone else will help you? Nobody else here gives a fuck about you. The moment they get the chance, they'll let a bullet go through your head,” he says as he looks down at you with a slightly crazed look. 

You'd like to make a counter point but he’s not exactly wrong. A lot of the people here didn't seem to be trustworthy. Not like Thanos was any better but he probably wouldn't purposely kill you if you didn't piss him off, right? As much as you didn't want to, you realized you didn't have much choice. Unless you want to make an enemy right after the first game, Thanos was your only hope of surviving the rest of the games.

“That's better. Just keep your pretty lips shut and let me do the talking,” Thanos spoke with a slight smirk. You didn't respond to that knowing that you'd likely make some sarcastic quip that would piss him off if you did. You didn't have a choice this time. You couldn't run away to another country. You had to give in just this once.

You'd soon come to regret that decision. 

Somehow, Thanos had only gotten worse. He was always right next to you, no matter what. Either his hand would be over your shoulder or he'd have a tight grip on your waist. When it was lights out, he'd force you to sleep in the same bed as him. He'd kiss you all the time too but it was always rough with teeth clashing against each other and his tongue shoved down your throat.

You didn't notice it got worse until it was far too late. 

The moment of realization was during the third game. The game was called ‘mingle’ and it was simple enough. A number would be called out and you'd have 30 seconds to form a group of that number before getting inside one of the fifty rooms. 

Everyone stood on a circular platform in the center of the room and, per usual, Thanos had his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he spoke to his other stupid friend. The platform began to spin slowly as a childish song played. When the platform came to a sudden stop and a number was called out you formed a group and ran into a room. 

It was all going fine as you planned strategic moves and managed to keep on surviving. At least, it was going well. Until the last round when the number 2 was called. 

Thanos had immediately taken your wrist and dragged you towards a room, leaving behind his idiot friend without a second thought. However, the room was quickly stolen by two other players. You thought Thanos would just go to the next room over but that was not what happened.

Instead he pushed open the door and immediately grabbed one of the guys by their hair. He didn't think twice before he forced him out of the room. The other guy made an attempt to help but Thanos slammed him against the wall, his hand going around his throat as he choked him. The look in his eyes was far more scary than you remember. You could hardly process what was happening before the guy was punched in the face and pushed out of the room. 

Thanos pulled you in just before the door closed and locked. The sound of gunshots rang out soon after as Thanos huffed in annoyance. He looked guilt free despite the fact he was very much responsible for the death of two people. Actually, now that you really thought about it, he had killed other people in the previous games too.

Fuck. You were beginning to regret your choice of becoming his ally. You'd have much rather found someone else who could protect you from him because he was clearly fucking crazy. Crazier than he used to be. You thought he was just a manipulative, toxic bastard. You didn't think he'd be truly capable of murder. 

“Fucking dickheads,” Thanos mumbles under his breath with annoyance before glancing at your face. The corner of his lips quirked up when he noticed your expression and he wandered in front of you. “What? Something wrong?” He spoke though he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You killed those people,” you said as you looked up at him with a combination of fear and disbelief. He laughed in response before reaching a hand up and grabbing your face. “For you, baby. I fucking killed them for you,” he said as he looked down at you with a smirk. He found your expression such a turn-on really. The idea you were afraid of him meant you'd submit to him and that's all he wanted.

“You're fucking crazy.. crazier than I thought,” you spoke as you tried to step back and create some distance between the two of you. In response, he slammed you against the wall and got very close to you. 

“You're only just realizing this? You don't realize when I snapped the ankle of that bastard who looked at you so he'd lose? You didn't realize when our ‘friend’ and I returned but he had a bleeding nose?” He spoke as he got into your face with a dangerous grin. Well, when he said it like that, it became abundantly clear he had been killing and hurting people left and right since day one and all for you. You just had been too caught up in his behavior towards you that you didn't notice how he acted with others.

“Mm. Fuck, I love that look on your face. You're so afraid. Good. Because you're going to learn that you're mine forever, yeah?” He spoke as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly. He let out a laugh as he choked you like it was the funniest thing in the world before slamming his lips to yours in a rough kiss. 

It was then you realized that, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were his now - you always have been - and you will never taste freedom on your tongue again.

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Under Watch

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x Hotch’s Daughter .・゜✭・.

Summary: A string of murders on your college campus brings your estranged father and his team to investigate. To keep you safe, he assigns Spencer Reid to watch over you.

A/N: this takes place in the season 6, I just wanted glasses Reid to be in the pics, also not proofread I will come back and correct it later :) xoxox

BYR(b4 u Reid): babysitter Reid, Strict Hotch, Murder, guns, knives, SA, semi-detailed murder description, cuss words, talks of alcohol, kidnappings, stalking, and detailed make out sesh. | hopefully I don’t forget anything!

“I’m free tonight. We can start working on the project.” You tell the guy walking beside you as you both step out of the lecture hall.

“Yeah, that works. How’s seven?” He asks, holding the door open for you.

“That should be fine.” You say with a small smile

You don’t know him well, barely noticed him until today when he’d ask if you’d be his partner. But before the conversation could continue, a voice cuts through the noise of campus.

“Y/n!”

You turn, scanning the crowd until your eyes land on him. Your father stands in the middle of the quad, his team beside him. The weight of their stares settles over you.

Your brows furrow as you step toward them.

“Why are you here?” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t back down.

Your father’s expression hardens. “You don’t know? Do you not stay informed on what happens around you?”

His tone makes you stiffen. “Mr. Hotchner.” The dean interjects carefully, stepping forward. “We’ve chosen to keep things as contained as possible. We don’t want to incite panic among the students.”

“Not warning them is more dangerous.” Rossi counters, unimpressed.

The dean exhales. “I understand your concerns but unless you’ve run a college campus, you don’t understand the position we’re in.”

You glance past your father at his team. Faces you recognize from home but haven’t seen since you left Virginia. They watch the exchange closely, some with sympathy, others with quiet apprehension.

“What’s going on?” You finally ask.

Your father doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for your arm, his grip firm but not forceful. “Come with us.”

You were led into the campus security building, where case files are scattered across tables. Your eyes flick to a white-board in the next room, crime scene photos pinned in a neat but unsettling arrangement.

“Shut that.” his voice is sharp, and when you glance back at him, his expression his unreadable.

“We were called here because there's been a series of murders on campus. Young woman.” he says, locking eyes with you.

For the first time, you see it, the fear beneath his controlled demeanor.

You don’t know how to respond, but when he lays down three photographs, fear settles in your chest.

“Sarah Johnston, Abigail Smith, Elizabeth Adam’s.” He lists “Do you see a pattern?”

Your stomach twists. Hair color, similar build. Even the way they smiled in their photos. You and these girls resembled each other.

“Could be a coincidence,” you murmur, though you don't believe it.

“It’s not, he has a type.” he firmly says “You can't be alone on this campus. Travel in groups, carry your pepper spray, and you are not to be alone with any male students.”

You exhale, shaking your head. “I have a project to do with a guy from my class-”

“Meet in a public space, surrounded by people.” Rossi interjects.

“The library is packed, and the study rooms are booked.”

“Cancel.” your father orders. “Tell him you're sick, do it now.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

Your father stares. That look, the one that's ended entire arguments without him saying another word. You hesitate, but your fingers move, typing the message before holding up your phone for his approval.

“Good.” he nods, then turns to Reid. “Take her to her dorm, please.”

“I can walk myself.”

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why can't you just listen for once?” his voice rises, frustration creeping in.

Your mouth opens, then snaps shut.

“What about everyone else?” you challenge, voice tight. “The girls who aren't getting warnings? The ones who don't have an agent escorting them to their dorms? This isn't fair. I'm just a student like the rest of them. I don't need your protection.”

“You don't understand, and right now, I don't care if you do.” he says, his tone final. “My only concern is getting you to your room. And you're staying there for the rest of the night. Reid, take her.”

“If it helps.” Emily adds gently, resting a hand on your shoulder. “A statement is going out today. The school is setting up hotlines, resources, and people will be warned.”

You let out a slow breath. It doesn't make you feel better. Not really.

“Fine.” you turn on your heel, heading for the door. Spencer Reid following right behind you.

The walk back to your dorm is quiet, not awkward, just silent.

When you step inside, you toss your bag onto your bed and gesture toward the other one. “You can sit there. My roommate dropped out a while ago, so no one uses it.”

Reid hesitates before sitting. “Does your dad know?”

You glance at home, confused. “Why would he?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that’s something a father would want to know.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our relationship is… complicated.”

“Yeah.” He says, nodding slightly. “I get that.”

You eye him for a second. “You and your dad close?”

Reid shifts in his seat, before you can take it back, he says. “He left my mom and me when I was a kid.”

You frown. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t affect me anymore.”

There’s a moment of quiet before you decide to change the subject. “I have some games. Do you like Jenga?”

That earns a small chuckle from him. “Yeah.”

You kneel beside your bed, pulling out the game. There were probably better things you could be doing, like assignments or your project, but this seemed like a better way to pass the time.

As you both set up the blocks on the floor, you smirk. “Usually when I play, my friends and I have a rule. Whoever knocks it over takes two shots.”

Reid gives you an amused look. “Are you even legal to drink?” You raise an eyebrow. “What, are you gonna tell my dad?”

He tilts his head. “Should I?”

You laugh. “I don’t think it’ll surprise him, I’m pretty sure he expects worse.”

Reid’s expression shifts slightly. “You know, your dad talks about you a lot. He’s very proud of you.” You freeze for a second. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Reid nodded.

You swallow, shifting slightly. “Huh. Didn’t know that.”

He doesn’t say anything else, instead gestures to the game. “You go first.”

The game begins, each turn making the tower more unsteady. Eventually, Spencer study’s the blocks carefully, trying to find a safe one to pull.

“This is getting difficult.” He mutters, eyes narrowed.

You laugh, watching as he finally picks one and pushes it, only for the entire tower to collapse.

“Shit.” He murmurs under his breath causing your eyes to widen. “Did you just cuss?” You teased.

Reid shakes his head with a smirk, while you get up and dig through your closet. When you return, you hold up a bottle. “Two shots?”

His eyes practically pop out of their sockets. “I’m working.” You scrunch your face. “Is it really called working when you’re watching an adult?”

“I’m still on duty.” He argues. “Your dad would fire me.”

You roll your eyes. “My dad loves you. But fine Spencer, be lame.” Before he could reply, there’s a knock at the door. You both glance at each other.

“I got it, " you say, heading toward the door forgetting there was a killer on the loose and Spencer Reid wasn’t in your room to play games.

Spencer moves ahead of you. “I’ll get it.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. You step back as he opens the door.

Standing there is Eli, the guy from your class.

“Oh, uh… is y/n here?” Eli asks, looking past Spencer. You step forward going to the door. “Eli? What are you doing here?”

“I saw your message. Just wanted to check on you.” He says, then glances at the bottle in your hand. His lips twitch into a smirk. “Having a party?”

You quickly lower the bottle. “No, I was just-no.” You stutter.

Eli raises an eyebrow. “You don’t look sick.”

You sigh. “Yeah…I’m not. I just can’t do the project tonight. I’m sorry.” Eli glances between you and Reid before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I get it.”

Silence lingers between the three of you. It’s awkward.

“Wait.” You ask suddenly. “How did you find my room?”

“Lisa.” He answers quickly. “I asked her.”

You nod, but something about it feels… off. You glance at Spencer, who’s watching Eli closely, brows drawn together like he’s analyzing something.

Eli clears his throat. “Well, I’ll let you guys be. Let me know when we can start the project.”

“Yeah, I will.” You say, before shutting the door.

You turn to Spencer. “That was awkward.” He nodded. “Is that your friend?”

“No. Barely know him. Just a project partner.” You say.

“Hmm.” Spencer’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression unreadable. You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice. “You just can’t be too sure about people.”

You nod. “Do you think the unsub will be caught tonight?” He exhales, his lips pressing together in thought. “I’m not sure. So far, he hasn’t left much evidence behind.”

“How does he do it?” You ask, curiosity outweighing your nerves. Spencer hesitates. “I don’t think your dad would appreciate me telling you.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I don’t think that’s my dad’s choice.”

He sighs, clearly understanding your frustration. After a moment, he finally gives in.

“He stalks them.” Spencer says, his voice lower now. “He waits until they’re alone, takes them somewhere secluded. He hurts them… bad. And then he.” His jaw tightens before finishing. “He assaults them. It’s brutal y/n. That’s why Hotch is so worried.”

Your breath catches. His gaze is firm, searching yours, waiting for a reaction. And for a second, you don’t know what to say. You had meant what you said to your dad about it not being fair, but hearing this… it makes you feel something else.

“If he stalks them, does that make his killings far apart?” You ask, your voice quieter now.

Spencer nods. “He’s projected to strike again in a few days, but we are trying to prevent that. He only keeps his victims for a few hours, but he takes his time choosing them. He studies them.”

Goosebumps rise along your arms, and suddenly, the walls of your dorm feel too close. “I need air.”

Spencer watches you for a moment before offering. “Well can walk around?”

You nod.

The two of you walk with no destination, the sky shifting into soft oranges and purples as the sun starts to set. The air is cooler now, and the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable.

“So.” Spencer finally says, breaking the quiet. “How are you liking college?”

You glance at him, appreciating his efforts. “It’s been good. A lot of people to meet, a lot of things to do.”

He nods. “When I was in college, I didn’t really… do much.” You let out a small laugh. “Weren’t you, like, fourteen?”

He smirks. “Yeah. That might have had something to do with it.” You tilt your head. “What’s it like? Being that smart?”

Spencer thinks for a moment before answering. “Uh- I don’t know. Sometimes it’s good. Other times it feels like… too much. Even for myself.”

“Must be exhausting.” You murmur

“Can be.” He admits.

The wind picks up slightly, and you shiver without meaning to. You mentally curse yourself for not bringing a jacket.

Spencer notices. without a word, he shrugs off his own. “Here. Take mine.”

You shake your head. “What? No, it’s cold. You need it.”

“I was starting to feel hot in it anyway.” He says, holding it out to you. You narrow your eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Spencer.”

He doesn’t argue. Instead, he just steps closer and drapes the jacket over your shoulders himself, his hands brushing against you for just a second longer than necessary.

You blink up at him, caught off guard.

“Now you have to take it.” He says simply.

You huff but pull it tighter around yourself, the fabric warm. “Fine.” Spencer smirks, satisfied.

You glance down, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He replied, giving you the same soft smile, and with that you both continued walking.

The conversation mostly consisting of Spencer throwing out random facts.

Just as he finished explaining why flamingoes stand on one leg, you glanced down and noticed your shoelace had come undone.

“Damn.” You muttered

Before you could react, Spencer crouched down without hesitation, his long fingers grabbing the laces. He tied them quickly, but his movements were gentle, careful.

You swallowed, feeling a rush of warmth crawl up your neck. It was a simple sweet gesture.

“Thanks.” You murmured.

He looked up at you, his eyes catching yours for just a second too long before he stood back up. You cleared your throat, motioning toward a nearby bench.

The two of you sat down, silence setting over for a brief moment before you turned toward him. “So, Spencer, do you have a girlfriend?”

The question clearly caught him off guard. His capture stiffened slightly, and he glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “Uh-no. Why?”

You shrugged. “Because you do all these nice little things. Feels like there has to be a girl.”

He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”

“Hmm.” You tilted your head, studying him. “That’s surprising.” Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “Why?”

“Because.” You said simply, “You’re sweet. You’re smart.” Then, without much thought, you reached up and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair. “And you’re pretty good-looking.”

The reaction was instant. His whole face turned red, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Even his ears betrayed him, turning an adorable shade of pink.

“I-I just… I don’t know.” He stammered. “I’m busy, I guess.”

“Yeah.” You hummed, leaning back against the bench. Then, he smirked slightly, his confidence suddenly returning. “Why do you care?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Spencer. I’m just nosey, must be genetic.”

“Right.” He said, nodding as if he didn’t believe you for a second. You narrowed your eyes at him, amused by his boldness. Before you could stop yourself, you turned the question back on him.

“Well, do you think I have a boyfriend?”

He tilted his head, considering you for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“Yeah.” You answered casually, watching as his smirk faltered for just a second. His expression was unreadable, but you caught the small shift, the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers curled slightly against his lap.

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” He said

You let the silence hang for a bit too long before grinning. “I’m joking, Spencer. I don’t have one.”

He exhaled, shaking his head as he turned toward you, unimpressed. “Yeah, I think I can see why.”

You gasped, shoving his shoulder slightly. “Wow. Sassy.”

Spencer just laughed, and you found yourself staring at him a little too long, watching the way his smile softened his features.

Then, almost instinctively, the teasing faded. The space between you seemed smaller. His gaze flickering to your lips, so quick you almost thought you imagined it.

Your heart picked up speed.

“You know.” You said, your voice lower now. “For someone who’s never had a girlfriend, you sure don’t suck at flirting.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened with amusement. “Who says I’m flirting?” You arched a brow. “Oh, so you just tie everyone’s shoes for them, and hand out your coat?”

He smirked but didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted just slightly toward you.

Neither of you spoke, but something was different now, he was watching you in a way he hadn’t before, like he was debating something.

And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in first. He met you halfway.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like neither of you wanted to acknowledge it was happening. But then Spencer’s hand found your jaw, his touch delicate, and suddenly, it wasn’t hesitant anymore.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his button up, pulling him just a little closer, feeling the warmth of him against you.

Spencer’s lips moved against yours with surprising confidence, his fingers firm against your jaw as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, pleading for entrance, and you don’t hesitate to grant it.

A quiet sigh escaped you, your hands instinctively tightening around the fabric of his shirt.

“Spencer.” You breathed between kisses, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips left your mouth only to find the curve of your jaw, then lower, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck. The contrast was dizzying.

The Spencer you knew, the one who rattled off statistics and fidgeted when people stood too close felt miles away from the one currently leaving a trail of heat against your skin.

Had you really been gone that long?

Deep down, a part of you had always wondered about him.

You’d always thought he was cute. He was different from you in almost every way. Careful where you are reckless, and logical where you are impulsive.

Maybe that was why you found yourself so drawn to him.

His hands moved from your jaw to your throat, his fingers grazing lower, trailing down your body until they landed on your waist. His touch was warm, grounding.

You weren’t sure if you were pulling him closer or if he was the one doing it, but the space between you two was practically nonexistent.

Then, suddenly, he stiffened.

Spencer pulled back so fast it left you breathless, his wide eyes darting around. “Did you hear that?”

You blinked, still dazed. “What?”

“I think I heard something.” His body tensed, one hand instinctively resting on his gun as he stood, scanning the area.

You quickly straightened, glancing around. The campus was quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of crickets and rustling leaves from the breeze.

“Maybe we should head back.” You suggested, still trying to catch your breath.

Spencer nodded, but not before his gaze flickered back to you, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss you’d just shared.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice quieter now. “It’s late.”

The both of you walk back in silence, both thinking about the actions that took place a moment ago.

As you finally reach your dorm, something on the floor catches your eye. A pink envelope.

Spencer notices it too, his sharp gaze narrowing. Without hesitation, he bends down to grab it. “It just has your name.” He says, his voice low. He hands it over, and you take it.

You open it without thinking much, assuming it’s some harmless note. But the moment you pull out what’s inside, a wave of fear washes over you.

“Oh my god.”

Your voice trembles as your fingers clutch the two Polaroid photos. The first is of you and Spencer kissing. His hand cupping your jaw, the image capturing the undeniable intimacy of the moment.

The second photo was when Spencer was scanning the area after hearing a strange noise, his hand on his gun. Someone had been watching. Someone had been right there.

You shove the photos toward Spencer. His expression hardens as he studies them, brows furrowing deeply. He looked furious.

“We have to give these to the team.” He says firmly.

“No, it’s probably just a prank.” You argue, though your voice is weak. You’re desperate to convince yourself, but even you don’t believe it.

Spencer shakes his head. “We can’t be too sure. I’m sorry.” He apologizes as he slides the photos back into the envelope.

You swallow hard, the weight of it all crashing down. “My dad’s going to be upset.”

Spencer steps toward you, his fingers brushing the strands of your hair behind your ear. “It’s going to be alright.” He assures you.

Your eyes scan him, and you can see guilt flashing across his face. You know he feels responsible, and you can’t help but feel the same.

Without another word, he pulls out his phone. “We have something that might be connected.” He says into the receiver, his voice clipped. “Alright. We’ll be on our way.”

The walk to campus security is silent, the dread growing heavier with every step. When you arrive, your father is already there, his signature stoic expression barely concealing his concern.

“What is it?” He asks, striding toward you both.

You and Spencer exchange a quick, uneasy glance. Spencer hands him the envelope.

Your father opens the envelope, his eyes flickering over the contents. The tension in the room is unbearable. You swear you can hear Spencer’s heartbeat.

“What is this?” Hotch’s voice is low, but the restrained anger is clear. His gaze shifts to you, demanding answers.

“They were taken of us… not too long ago.” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn't respond immediately. The weight of his silence is crushing.

“So, I send an agent to watch over you, and instead, you make him go against orders. You kiss him while a murderer is on the loose, on your campus, targeting girls.” his words cut through you.

“I-I know. I'm sorry.” you stammer, instinctively glancing at Spencer. “It was my fault.”

But Spencer immediately shakes his head. “No it wasn’t. I’m the one that didn’t follow orders, it’s not her fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is. You both had orders, and you failed to comply.” He looks directly at Spencer. “Reid, join JJ. Now.”

Spencer hesitates, clearly torn, but nods. He gives you one last glance before walking away.

“Y/n.” Your father’s voice lowers. “We need to talk.”

You follow him into an empty room, the door clicking shut behind you. The air is thick with unspoken words. You brace yourself, expecting the worst. But when your father finally speaks, it isn’t the scolding you anticipated.

“Do you think you might know who took these?” His tone is calm, but his eyes remain sharp.

You’re caught off guard. “No. I don’t.”

“Think y/n. Is there anyone - someone you’ve been seeing? Someone who might have been watching you?”

You rack your brain, the panic making it hard to focus. “There’s… Eli. The guy I’m working on a project with. He came by to check on me, but that’s really the only person I’ve talked to.”

Your father nods, processing. “And your roommate, do you think she seems like the type to give out your whereabouts? Does she seem untrustworthy?”

You shake your head. “I don’t have one.”

His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t think it was important.” You admit, your voice small.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell me you were alone in your dorm? That was the one thing I take comfort in while you are away, knowing there was someone else there.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

His expression softens just a fraction, but the frustration is still evident. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need to question Eli. What class?”

“Psychology.” You say

He gives you a short nod and turns to leave. You follow him out, but the tension lingers.

“Garcia can you look through the schools files for an Eli, a class he takes is psychology with y/n.” He says on the phone.

“I don’t think it’s him.” You say quietly. “I’ve barely seen him around.”

“And that.” Derek interjects, stepping beside you, “Makes him even more suspicious.”

Emily nods in agreement. “If he’s the unsub, he could’ve been targeting you. Sudden appearances aren’t always coincidences.”

You sigh, and take a seat in one of the chairs, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Despite the hum of voices around you, exhaustion wins. Your eyes fluttered close, and before you realize it, sleep over takes you.

“Okay, Garcia gave me the location of Eli’s apartment.” Your dad’s stern voice snaps you awake. “Morgan and JJ, come with me. Prentiss and Rossi, stay here and keep an eye on them.”

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sit up. “What’s going on?”

Your father doesn’t answer, already halfway through to door. Emily steps closer, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. “They found Eli’s apartment. But, y/n … Eli was never enrolled in your class.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“He’s been sneaking in.” She says softly. “Pretending to be a student. We think he’s been watching you for a while.”

You stare at her, the words sinking in. Your pulse races as the realization hits. “Oh my god.”

“It’s becoming clear that you were most likely one of his next victims.” Rossi joins in, their eyes both full of empathy.

“But he seemed so…” you trail off, struggling to find the right word. Normal doesn’t feel right. Not now.

“I know.” Emily says, nodding. “It’s difficult. But we’re close to figuring this out. You’re safe now.”

You swallow, the reassurance barely easing your nerves. Rossi lays a reassuring hand on your should giving it a gentle squeeze “It’s going to be okay kid.” He says you nodded and watched as he walked away.

You sit back down, gathering the information you’ve just been told.

Just as the heavy silence settles in, Emily tilts her head, smirking slightly. “That’s a nice sweater.”

Confused, you glance down. It’s only then you remember, Spencer’s sweater. The sleeves are a little long, the faint scent of his cologne lingering.

“Oh. Uh it’s not mine.” You mumble, tugging at the hem. Emily’s smirk deepens. “I know.”

Without another word, she stands and walks toward one of the other rooms, leaving you with your thoughts. You let out a long breath, rubbing your hands over your face. The stress is unbearable.

“Here.” Spencer’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. He holds out a cup of coffee, his fingers brushing yours as you take it.

“Thank you.” You murmur, the warmth of the cup grounding you, he gave you a soft warm smile. “I’m sorry Spencer.” You apologize.

His eyes scan your face. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

You blink at him. “You’re acting as if I didn’t kiss you back.” He says. Heat creeps up your neck. “I just feel like this is my fault.” You admit, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re stuck here instead of searching Eli’s apartment. Emily having to babysit now. And all because-”

“Because we went for a walk?” Spencer finishes, raising an eyebrow. “And kissed? You do realize that without that walk, and that kiss, we probably wouldn’t have gotten this close to catching him.”

His words sink in. The guilt that’s been gnawing at you lessens, just a little.

“So in some weird, messed-up way.” He continues, his voice softer. “It’s a good thing.”

You manage a small smile. “I guess.”

Spencer’s grin grows, and for a second, the tension in the air lightens. “Well, I should get out of here before Emily comes back.”

“Probably a good idea.”

With one last lingering look, he turns and heads out. The warmth of the moment fades as the waiting continues. Minutes pass, then thirty. You sip the last of your coffee, anxiety prickling beneath your skin.

The sudden sound of the door opening draws your attention. Your father and Morgan stride inside, and between them, handcuffed and smirking, is Eli.

“Prentiss, Reid.” Hotch says, his voice sharp. “Join JJ at Eli’s apartment. She’s going through it now.”

Spencer and Emily don’t waste a second, slipping out of the building. You barely register them leaving, your focus locked on Eli. He walks past you, and despite the restraints, his presence feels suffocating.

“It’s not over.” He evilly smiles as the words left his mouth, your blood runs cold.

“Don’t speak to her!” Your father snaps, his voice booming. In an instant, Hotch has Eli shoved against the wall, his face pressed hard against the surface.

You flinch, heart stammering. Eli only laughs. The sound sends a shiver down your spine.

“y/n.” Morgan’s voice is calm but firm as he steps closer. “If you need anything, we’re here. Don’t go anywhere alone. Got it?”

You nod, barely able to find your voice. “Got it.”

Morgan gives you a reassuring nod before following your father into the makeshift interrogation room. You’re left there, your mind racing. Emily’s words from earlier echo in your head.

“You’re safe now”

You want to believe that, but with Eli’s words burned into your memory, it’s hard to feel safe at all.

After what felt like hours, you made your way to the restroom, you splash cold water on your face, the droplets sliding down your skin as you brace your hands on the sink.

The reflection staring back at you is pale and exhausted, the weight of everything visible in your eyes. You close them for a moment, willing the lingering feeling to disappear.

But then, the sound of a lock clicking behind you jolts you awake.

Your heart leaps as you whip around. A man stands in the front of the door, his expression twisted with excitement. He’s holding a gun, the metallic glint catching the harsh bathroom light.

“We’re going to do this the easy way, okay Claire?” His voice is disturbingly calm, like he’s rehearsed these words a thousand times.

“Claire?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m not Claire.”

But he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, his grip tightening around the gun. You instinctively back away.

“It’s okay.” He soothes, though his eyes are wild. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you with me.”

He’s closing in now, his body looming. You can feel the panic rising, your chest tightening. Every part of you screams to run, but the barrel of the gun hovers dangerously close.

“Let’s go home, Claire.”

The words send a chill down your spine. You open your mouth to scream, but before you can make a sound, the gun is at your temple. The cold steel sends a shock through you.

“We’re going to be quiet, okay?” He growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t make me shoot you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your pulse pounds. You can feel his erratic breathing, the tension in the air thick and suffocating. Every instinct tells you to fight, to scream, but you don’t.

“Okay.” You force out, your voice trembling.

He grabs your arm, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you towards the door. Each step is slow, calculated. He cracks the door open, peering down the empty hallway. You silently pray that someone will come, your dad, Morgan, Rossi, anyone.

But the hall remains empty.

No one sees.

No one hears.

And then, he’s dragging you through the exit.

——

Back in the interrogation room, Eli sits slouched in the chair, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“You’re making a mistake.” He taunts, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “A mistake?”

Eli nods, chuckling to himself. “I knew you’d come. That’s why I was home. You’re too predictable. And while you’re all in here wasting time on me…” he leans forward, savoring every word. “No one’s watching your daughter.”

The room shifts in an instant. The air turns cold. Hotch’s face darkens, fear flashing through his eyes.

“Morgan, Rossi. Stay here.” Hotch orders, his voice sharp. Without another word, he storms out. His movements are frantic, searching every corner of the building. Empty chairs, empty hallways. The tension grows unbearable.

“Where the hell is she?” He demands, slamming his fists on the table when he returns. The sound echoes through the room.

Eli simply smirks. “I don’t know.”

——

The van jerks violently as the man speeds through the dark streets. Your wrists ache from the rope biting into your skin, and the duct tape over your mouth muffles your desperate pleads.

He’s erratic, mumbling to himself as he drives. You pray for the sight of flashing police lights, for anyone who might notice how reckless he’s being. But the roads remain empty.

After what feels like eternity, the van screeches to a stop.

“We’re here.” He announces, giddy like a child on Christmas morning.

He yanks open the back doors, his rough hands grabbing at you. You scream, the sound muffled and desperate. You kick, pounding your fists against his back as he hauls you over his shoulder. But it doesn’t faze him.

The air shifts as he carries you inside. The stench is unbearable, a rancid mixture of mildew, rot, and something metallic. The walls are stained, rust creeping across the cracked concrete. Water pools around the floor, dark and slick.

He dumps you onto the ground, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Before you can react, he pulls a heavy chain from the corner, the rusted links clinking together.

“This is so you don’t try and leave like the others.” He sneers

The chain clamps around your neck, the padlock snapping shut. The weight is suffocating, restricting your movements to only a few feet. You twist and pull, but it’s useless.

He crouches in front of you, his grin wide with satisfaction. “We’re finally together, Claire. Just like I promised.”

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, your heart continues to pound violently. The panic threatens to consume you, but you fight it. You have to stay calm. You have to find a way out.

But as he watches you with twisted delight, the truth sinks in. No one knows where you are.

The tape rips from your mouth, the sting sharp against your skin. You gasp, your chest heaving, but before you can speak, the man crouches in front of you, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Before we continue, Claire.” He says, his voice low and deliberate “I need you to be truthful.”

Your glare sharpens, every nerve in your body screaming to fight. “I’m not Claire, you psycho! Let me go!”

The words barely leave your lips before his hands snap to your face, gripping your chin tightly. The veins in his neck bulge with fury.

“You are Claire!”

His trembling hand digs into his pocket, pulling out a worn photo. He shoves it into your view. “This is us, Claire! Before you decided to leave!”

The woman in the photo has your face, or almost. The same features, the same hair.

“That’s not me.” You whisper, shaking your head.

“You always like to lie!” He growls, his voice cracking. He finally lets go, pushing you back against the cold wall as he paces, running his free hand through his greasy hair.

Then he stops.

“Who was that guy?” His voice drops, seething. “The scrawny agent. Why were you with him?”

You blink, confused. “What?”

His teeth clench. “Why did you let him touch you?” He snarls. “Why did you let him look at you like that?!”

He’s talking about Spencer.

“No, no.” You stammer, your pulse racing. “He’s no one. You don’t have to worry about him.”

But it’s too late. The idea is planted, festering in his mind. He shakes his head, a bitter grin twisting his lips.

“I need him here.” He says, his voice trembling with conviction. “I’m going to bring him here.”

“No!” You cry, panic lacing your voice. “You don’t need him! You have me!”

“You need to help me, Claire!” He pleads, crouching down once more. His eyes are wide, frantic. “You have to get him here.”

Tears burn your eyes as you shake your head. “I can't do that.”

He reaches forward, his rough thumb swiping a tear from your cheek. “Don’t cry, darling. It's going to be okay.”

But it won't be.

“Tell me the number.” his voice cracks, dangerous edge creeping in. “I wont.” you whisper.

His hand snaps to his belt, pulling out a small knife. The light catches the dull blade.

“Why are you making me do this?!” he roars, the knife flashing. Before you can move, the cold steel slices across your arm. The pain is immediate, searing. You scream, clutching at the bleeding wound.

——

“Y/n is missing.”

JJ’s words hit like a bullet. Spencer’s heart drops.

“What?” He breathes, his voice sharp. “How? Someone was supposed to be watching her.”

“We don’t know, but Hotch needs us.”

Without another thought, they leave Eli’s apartment and rush back to campus. Spencer’s mind races, his breath short. This can’t be happening.

Emily and JJ make their way into the building but before Spencer reaches the door behind them, his phone rings.

His hands fumble as he answers.

“Hello?”

“Spencer.” Your voice quivers on the other end. “It’s me.”

His chest tightens. “Y/n! Where are you? Hold on! Let me get Hotch.”

“No!” Your voice cracks. “Spencer, don’t. Please… just come. He wants you here, and he says he’ll hurt me if you bring the team.”

“Y/n.” Spencer runs a trembling hand through his hair, panic gripping him.

“Come unarmed.” You whisper. “The address is 3840 Cherry road.”

The line crackles. And then-

“Don’t come, Spencer! Please!”

A sickening thud enters through the phone, your muffled cries follow.

“y/n!” Spencer shouts, his voice breaking. But there’s no answer.

The line goes dead.

His hands shake as he scribbles the address onto a scrap of paper, dropping it where someone will find it. Without another word, he bolts for the SUV.

——

The building looms ahead, rotting, desolate. Spencer moves quickly, his steps silent. The walls are damp, stained with water and time. The stench of mold lingers.

Then he sees you. Sitting against a wall, your head hanging low.

“Y/n.” He gasps, rushing to your side. Blood stains your lips, your nose, and a fresh cut marks your cheek. You’re barely conscious, your head lolling.

“Spencer?” You murmur, your voice weak. But as your eyes adjust, terror flashes across your face.

“No.” You whisper, your hands weakly pushing him away. “Why did you come? I told you not to.”

Before Spencer can respond, a voice rings out.

“Stop touchin’ her.”

Spencer freezes. You both turn, dread pulling in your stomach. The man stands, his eyes blazing with fury.

He lunges, grabbing Spencer and shoving him to the ground, he then pulls out a gun.

“You don’t want to do this.” Spencer says, his hands raised. “We can talk.”

“Why were you with Claire?” The man’s voice booms, echoing through the building. “She doesn’t want you! She wants me!”

“Claire?” Spencer asks cautiously, trying to keep him talking. “Don’t say her name!”

“You want the truth?” Spencer’s voice is steady now, his eyes never leaving the gun. “She doesn’t want you. She never did.”

You stare at him in shock, wondering if he’s gone crazy.

“She wants me.” Spencer presses, his voice low “She doesn’t want you.”

“Do you want me to explain more of what we did?, what you didn’t get to see?” Spencer asked. “What is he talking about?” The unsub asked as he made his way towards you angrily. “You slut!” He spat in your face, but before he could strike you a gunshot echos.

The man in front of you crumbles, blood stains his chest. His eyes go wide, and the life drains from him.

You gasp, and look to see Spencer standing, his gun drawn, chest heaving.

He rushes to get the keys out of the pockets of the dead man, then to you unlocking the chain from your neck, and untying your wrists. The moment you’re free, you collapse into his arms.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, holding you tightly, his hand going up and down your back. “You’re safe now.”

You cling to him, sobbing. “I was so scared.”

“I know.” Spencer breathes, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

The sound of footsteps echo. “They’re in here!” Morgan’s voice rings out.

Hotch bursts through the doors, his eyes locking onto you and Spencer. You let go of Spencer and make your way towards your dad, stumbling, but he needs you halfway and catches you in his arms, tightly pulling you against him.

He was scared to let you go, scared you’d disappear.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, his voice thick with guilt.

You shook your head not wanting to hear his apologies, you were just thankful to be able to see him again.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, your tears soaking into his shirt.

Hotch’s hand gently cups your face, his fingers tracing the cuts. He nods, his voice trembling.

“We’ll go home, baby.”

——

1 month later…

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and stepped into the familiar hum of the BAU office. Jacks small hand gripped yours tightly while the other held a plate of cookies, still warm from the oven. As you passed through the glass doors, a wave of familiar faces greeted you, their smiles wide with excitement.

“Y/n!” JJ’s voice rang out first, her arms already reaching for you. She pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you slightly before Emily joined in.

“I was wondering when we’d get a visit!” Emily grinned, her dark eyes bright.

“Yeah, I would’ve come sooner but-”

“But I told her to stay home and rest.” Your dad cut in, his voice warm as he appeared beside you. Jack immediately wiggled free to run into his arms.

“Makes sense, recovery is important.” Rossi added, his fatherly tone laced with relief.

“Yeah, but it could’ve been worse.” You said, shrugging. “I’m just glad I healed up so quickly.”

“We all are, kid.” Derek said, squeezing your shoulder. His easy grin was one you’d miss.

“And what do we have here?” Penelope asked, her bright eyes locked on the plate in your hands.

“Cookies.” You answered, holding the plate up. “I wanted to thank you all. For everything. For helping me.”

A chorus of “Aww’s” and “Yay’s” echoed through the bullpen, and you set the plate on the nearest desk as the team eagerly grabbed a treat. Your father’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, his grip, strong and steady.

“Thank you.” He said softly, his voice just for you.

you met his gaze, the tension that had once existed between you now barely a shadow. “Thank you, dad. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m sorry for how things were before. But I’m glad we’re…better now.”

His eyes softened, and he kissed the top of your head, a rare display of affection that made your chest ache in the best possible way.

As the others laughed and chatted, you scanned the room instinctively. And there he was.

Through the glass walls of an office, Spencer Reid stood, his tall frame slightly hunched as he watched you. His eyes met yours, warm and hesitant. Without thinking, you smiled. He moved towards you, his steps quick.

“Y/n.” He said

“Spencer.” The way his name left your lips felt far too easy. “How are you feeling? Are you- are you okay?” His voice was careful, but the concern was evident.

“I’m good. Really good.” You reassured him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Better than ever, actually.”

His smile mirrored yours, though his eyes lingered on you like he was still checking for any sign of pain. “That’s…that’s good. I’m happy to hear that.”

“You should grab a cookie before Morgan eats the whole plate.” You joked, tilting your head toward the group. “yeah, I probably should.” He laughed softly, but he didn’t move.

His gaze held yours, something unspoken passing between you.

“How about you? How’ve you been?” you asked, shifting slightly closer. “Oh, you know. Same old routine,” he said with a small shrug. “Books. Cases. A lot of facts no one asked for.”

You grinned. “Still no girlfriend then?”

His eyes widened, and he stammered. “Uh, no. No girlfriend.”

“Shame.” You teased. “I finally turn twenty-one tomorrow, you know. So if you’re free we can finally have that drink you denied me last time at my dorm.”

He blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.” You grinned. “And now you don’t have an excuse.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’d like that a lot.”

“Good.” You lingered on the word, savoring how his cheeks turned reddened.

“I could pick you up.” He offered quickly. “If you want.”

“Perfect.” You nodded. “I live with my dad now, so just come by.”

“You moved back to Virginia?”

“Yeah, I transferred. It’s… nice being here. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I came back.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” Spencer said softly. “Maybe we can, uh, hang out more.”

You tilted your head, biting back a grin. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“Cool.” His voice cracked slightly, and the way his eyes flickered down to the floor only made him more endearing.

“Cool.” You echoed playfully, reaching for his hand. “But first, cookies!”

You tugged him gently, his hand gently squeezed yours, neither of you said anything, but the warmth lingered.

You and Jack stayed a bit longer, but the team eventually had to get back to work. With a few more laughs and lingering hugs, it was time to go.

“Well, it was nice seeing you guys,” you said, gripping Jack’s small hand. “Don’t be a stranger!” Penelope called with a wide grin.

“You’re always welcome,” Emily added. “And next time, bring cupcakes,” Rossi teased, flashing his signature smirk.

You laughed, the warmth of their affection lingering. “I will. Promise.”

After waving goodbye, you led Jack through the glass doors and out to the parking lot. Once you reached your car, you carefully buckled him into the backseat, ensuring he was comfortable.

“y/n.”

You froze, the sound of your name stirring something electric inside you. Turning, you saw Spencer walking toward you, his long strides closing the distance quickly. Before you could even process it, his hands cupped your jaw, fingers tracing the delicate lines of your face. And then, his lips were on yours.

It was sudden, desperate. His mouth moved against yours, soft and warm, but the urgency behind it set your skin on fire. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp air, and the world seemed to blur around you.

You pulled back, breathless, your wide eyes meeting his. “What was that?” you asked, though your lips still tingled from the kiss.

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer stammered, just as stunned as you were. His thumb brushed your cheek as if trying to memorize the moment. “I just felt like… I needed to do that.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

And before he could respond, you pulled him back in. This time, it wasn’t rushed. Your hands slipped around his neck, fingertips tangling in his hair as his lips met yours once more. He responded instantly, his body pressing closer, the kiss deepening. Your tongue traced along his, and a soft, quiet groan escaped him, a sound that made warmth coil low in your stomach.

You could’ve stayed like that forever. The way he held you, the way his mouth tasted like coffee and something distinctly Spencer, it all felt intoxicating.

But then you remembered, the kid you’re responsible for in the back of your car.

“Spencer,” you murmured against his lips, reluctantly pulling away. “I have to go.”

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “If you’re free tonight… I’d love to come over. Maybe we can pick up where we left off.”

His eyes darkened just slightly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I’m free.”

“Good.”

He stepped back, but not without stealing one last lingering glance. Ever the gentleman, he opened the car door for you, waiting as you slipped inside.

“Drive safe,” he said softly, his hand still resting on the doorframe. You gave him a playful wink. “I will.”

As you pulled out of the parking lot, Jack’s voice piped up from the backseat.

“Eww.”

You caught his grin in the rearview mirror and brought a finger to your lips. “Shhh.”

He burst into laughter, and despite the embarrassment, a giddy warmth settled in your chest. . .

hope you guys love this, it took so long to write but I’m glad it’s finally finished! Lmk your thoughts<3

Thank you to everyone who reposts, and leave kind messages, you guys are the reason I continue writing! I appreciate it so much!

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[dollfacefantasy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL PT.2 ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: you, jason, and dick have grown closer in the time since their little competition. now that dick has been officially added to your case, new feelings crop up, and the three of you try to figure out what the next month together will really mean.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (all receiving), fingering, threesome, nightmare, mentions of past trauma + violence, daddy issues

wc: 11.1k

a/n: hii everyone. sorry this took me so long. i'm still not sure how i feel about it, but i'm happy to finally have it out. bear with me because this chapter is leading into the rest of the story, and this will be my first multi-chapter fic. as of now, i have seven parts outlined. all that i ask is that you guys not pressure me between chapters cause that makes me feel really burnt out lol. they'll be out when they're out i promise. anyways reblogs + comments always appreciated <3

part 1

Just as he had one week ago, Dick currently stood in the small elevator cabin watching the numbers above the door light up from left to right. With his car keys in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other, he waited for the now-familiar chime of arrival to ding.

It came only moments later. This trip felt much shorter than the first. He wasn’t buzzing with anticipation or running scenarios through his mind to prepare for what lie ahead. This time around, he knew what waited for him inside the apartment, and it wasn’t anything that caused him anxiety.

The sleek exit parted and allowed him into the penthouse. His keys jingled as he walked through the entrance hall to the double doors at the end. They were open now. From the living room, he could hear some grunting, Jason, and some laughter, you.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You two had been going at it when he woke up this morning, and after he joined in, for a couple hours more. He couldn’t even really be irritated that you were still doing it while he was gone. Instead, he just wondered about what kind of super stamina the both of you possessed that made it possible to be rubbing up against each other all this time later.

Though, it wasn’t like this came as a surprise to him. Since the morning of the little competition last weekend, you and Jason fucked like you used to fight. All the time you spent glaring at him and stamping your feet, now found you with your eyes rolled back as you bounced on his cock. Your pouty huffs morphed into giggly smiles and pitchy moans. And Jason’s tense demeanor had melted into the more casual one Dick was familiar with.

This seemed like the best case scenario. Compared to other jobs, this one came closer to being a vacation. Presented with this situation out of context, it would honestly have seemed more like a fever dream to Dick than anything that could have been real. Sharing a girl with Jason wasn’t something he ever really planned on, but it just kind of fell into place here. There weren’t any rules or schedules. The three of you just took it moment by moment, and so far, that worked.

He had no complaints. He still got plenty of time with you too, and he no longer had to play mediator 24/7. It was a bit amusing, how simple the solution to all Jason’s strife really turned out to be. If only he had started with this, maybe he could have saved himself that first week’s worth of headaches.

Dick entered the living room, expecting to catch you bent over the back of the sofa or spread out across the dining table, but he saw no such thing. In fact, he didn’t see you or Jason at all. He almost paused. A quick bolt of worry shot through him. Realistically, he knew the two of you were fine. Jason was more than capable, and he heard your laughter. But after years of protection orders, he still hadn’t found a way to suppress that instinct to find something wrong.

It was only seconds later he spotted you over on the other side of the room beyond the end of the couch. Your head popped up and down into his line of sight. Relief coursed through him in a rush. Crossing the wooden floor, he walked a few paces closer to see what was happening.

And he did find you on top of Jason, just not in the way he anticipated. Instead, you were parked on the younger man’s back while his body rose and fell in a set of push-ups. A grunt slipped from his lips with every flex of his biceps. From behind, you played with his hair. He’d been going at this a while if the sweat trickling down his temple and staining the collar of his t-shirt were any indicators.

“Hey, you two. Whenever you feel like getting off the floor, I brought your food,” Dick said, raising the plastic bag and giving it a light shake.

Your head zipped in his direction, eyes sparkling impossibly brighter at the mention of your dinner’s arrival. You hopped up off the muscular back supporting you. Despite wearing a cute, pink workout set, not a drop of sweat coated your skin.

Jason, meanwhile, rolled over with a quiet groan. He ran a hand over his face to wipe some of the perspiration away. “Be there in a second.”

You pranced up to Dick and wrapped him an excited hug. After nuzzling into his chest for a second, you tilted your head upwards.

“Did you get the extra rangoons?” you asked, batting your lashes at him as if there was any way he could have forgotten your special request that you’d repeated at least ten times before he left.

“Of course. Think I would’ve left the car keys behind before driving away without your rangoons,” he teased.

With a small cheer, you swiped the bag from his hand and headed in the direction of the kitchen to deal out the food.

“Wow, not even a thank you?” Dick called after you while trailing behind.

“Thank you, Dick!” you chirped.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, coming up beside you at the marble countertop. Red containers appeared one by one across the sleek surface as you unloaded them from the bag. Leaning in, he planted a gentle kiss on your cheekbone. “Bodyguards, workout partners, takeout delivery, and now teaching you manners? You got us working a tall order here, babe,” he murmured.

“I didn’t ask for all that. I think you guys just like doing extra stuff for me cause you know I make it worth your while,” you shrugged with a little smirk on your face as you placed the last box of noodles on the island.

Your haughty display was fast interrupted though as two thick arms snuck around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You squealed as Jason twisted around and placed you out of the way of the meals.

“Did I hear you say you don’t ask for any of that stuff? What were you doing earlier then?” he mocked as he stepped up to the counter and popped open a small container.

“Hey!” you pouted, trying to shove him over so you could have access to all the food again. Your feet slid on the smooth floor as you floundered against him. It took Jason literally no effort to resist your pushing. His large frame did the job all on its own. “I didn’t ask you for anything. You just wanted me on top of you.”

“Mhm, sure. I must have imagined every time you said ‘Jason, what are you doing?’ ‘Jason, I’m bored,’ ‘Jason, let me help,’” Jason imitated before shoveling a forkful of garlic-glazed beef into his mouth

You huffed and circled around to the other side of the counter to grab your bag of rangoons. “Whatever. I still didn’t ask you for anything,” you grumbled.

“Did you really need to when you took the initiative and just climbed on my back?” he mocked.

You scoffed, but both of them could see hints of a smile pulling at your lips. Since you’d become closer to them, winning or losing a minor argument didn’t have an effect on your mood. It was the mere attention that got you going.

In the midst of your back and forth, Dick grabbed the now-empty takeout bag. The plastic crinkled as he crumpled it between his hands on the way to the trash.

Jason glanced over at him. “How’d the meeting go?” he asked, playfulness fading from his expression as work became the topic of conversation.

“Good,” he nodded, reaching for a small box of his own, “We’re all set. We’ll both be assigned here for the remaining four weeks.”

“You managed to convince the old man she needs two people on babysitting duty? How’d you pull that off?” Jason asked with a raised brow.

“You’ll really both get to stay here?” you asked from your side of the island. Your eyes gleamed with hope rather than excitement, as if you still couldn’t believe it was true.

Dick answered you first with another nod before responding to Jason. “I just explained that given her eventful social life and… willful temperament, it would be more convenient on our end to have two people on her case.”

“And he believed you? He didn’t get suspicious?” you checked.

“I think he bought it. He really didn’t ask anything that gave the impression he thought something was off,” he reassured. 

To his relief, you, like your father, didn’t question his vague statements either. If you did, he’d have to figure out how to dance around the exact details of the conversation. He wasn’t really eager to rehash how your own flesh and blood spoke about you.

He thought before arriving at the Senator elect’s office that this would be an uphill battle. Those who didn’t want to use the word controlling would describe your father as protective, but no one would call the man stupid. He knew the reality of this situation just as well as Dick and Jason. There was no party in this arrangement who believed you were in real danger. So why on Earth would he agree that you needed two full-time guards when the one you already had barely did enough to justify his presence?

But the silver-haired man greeted Dick with an election-winning smile and firm handshake. He nodded along to each piece of what he said about you, as if he was absorbing every word like it was law. And when Dick reached the part about your aforementioned attitude and packed schedule, it went off without a hitch.

He eased into it, starting tentatively and bracing for pushback. “She’s adjusting now. Her and my partner are getting along, and we haven’t had any other issues since those first couple days, which is normal. Everyone takes a bit to get used to a second shadow,” he said in an attempt to keep things light. “I was only thinking she might benefit from having a detail of two since she has a few events to attend over the next few weeks and she can be… very set in her ways.”

Your father chuckled while leaning back in his leather chair. “Oh, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know how she can be. I love my daughter, but there’s a reason she doesn’t live with me anymore.”

Dick blinked in response at first. Logic would point to the fact that you were an adult aged into her twenties as a potential reason you might live alone. However, he figured that defending you would have aroused suspicion, so he kept his mouth shut, smirking and nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, uh… she’s something else.”

Your father nodded with a knowing laugh. “She knows how to bitch and moan till she gets exactly what she wants better than just about anyone. Think she learned it from her mother,” he sighed in a way that almost sounded fond. “You’re the expert, so if you think you need two guys to deal with her, have at it. You won’t hear any complaints out of me.”

Two guys to deal with her. Have at it.

If only he knew.

You pulled him out of the recollection with a bright smile. “Oh my gosh, this is great!” you cheered. “This is like the nicest thing he’s ever done for me. Not that he knows it. If he did, he probably woulda said no.”

Jason moved on too, going right along with your happy mood. “Great, huh? This the same girl who was doing everything she could to get me out of here just last week?”

“Yes. You’re the one who’s different. You’re someone I actually like having around now. Kinda,” you responded with a coy eyes.

For whatever reason, Dick just couldn’t share the same playful attitude. This was probably the one time in their lives that Jason had him beat on the front of being pleasant. He couldn’t pin down the exact cause, but seeing you now, with your sweet little smiles and muffled laughs after hearing someone who was supposed to protect you paint you as nothing more than an airhead, dug a dent of sadness into his normal nonchalant temperament. He knew your father wasn’t winning any awards for his parenting. However, bearing witness to his casual dismissal struck deeper than he expected.

But you and Jason continued to banter back and forth without a care in the world, so he tried to appear lighthearted for the remainder of dinner.

The three of you talked and ate in the way that had become routine after only a week. Things weren’t tense and argumentative anymore. Now that frustrations had been dealt with, it was easy to riff with one another about music you liked or movies you hated. They’d tell you the occasional story about an old case while you divulged past drama.

After the supply of food across the counter began to dwindle, the three of you worked in tandem to clear away the trash and put away any leftovers. With their help, the surface was clear in no time. You leaned back against the island, your palms flat on the smooth surface with your shoulders angled outwards.

“So…” you started, mischief swirling in your eyes as you looked between them. “What do you guys wanna do now?”

It was no secret what you were after. Your stance gave the two of them a nice view of your cleavage in that tight workout top. And how you looked between them through your lashes left no question about what kind of activities you were hoping would come next.

Jason shook his head. His face held a similar sense of trouble, only it lacked the lustful charge that motivated your own. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m gonna take a quick shower before anything else,” he said, already stepping in the direction of the stairs.

A scoff came from your lips. “What? No fun,” you said and started after him. “At least let us join…”

You reached out to touch his bicep, but Jason’s larger hand grabbed your wrist, preventing you.

“Your shower’s big but not enough for three people,” he said. “Plus, you got a bad case of wandering hands, princess. I want a quick shower. If I let you come with me, we’ll be in there till we’re both waterlogged .”

“But-” you started, your voice already getting a tad whiny.

He clicked his tongue at you, hushing you like an owner would do to their pet’s whines. “You’ve been with me all day. I’m sure Dick can take care of you for a little bit,” he said.

It was a gentle rebuff, but it was sincere. You tried one last attempt at pouting to no avail. He let go of your arm and headed off.

Your sad puffy lips tightened into a more resigned line. You were clearly intent on remaining unaffected. Only a beat passed before you turned and pranced over to Dick.

“He’s no fun,” you said as you snuck your arms around his waist for a hug.

You could be so touchy, but that wasn’t a problem for him. One of his arms slung across your shoulders while his other hand rubbed the curved space just above your ass.

“Sorry you have to stick with your second choice,” he said with a small pinch to your waist.

He meant it as a joke and nothing more. Even though you had been a bit clingier to Jason as of late, he felt no jealousy over it. It was understandable, chasing after the one who made a chase necessary. But if your face was any indication, the teasing nature of the words didn’t fully come across.

You tilted your head upwards, looking at him with a hint of real concern woven into your furrowed brows.

“You’re not my second choice,” you corrected. “I don’t have a favorite or anything. I like both you guys equally. I just know you’ll hang out with me if I want, so I don’t have to ask.” 

Your arms curled around him tighter like a pair of hungry vipers. You put your head against his chest again, right over his heart. His hand continued its gentle motions on your back while he looked down at you. He was content to leave your explanation as it was, but he could feel the unsaid words prodding at you, almost nudging at him by extension.

“I was just joking, babe. Promise,” he said and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

You glanced up at him once more. “…I just don’t want you guys to like… feel like it’s a competition or anything. I like both of you a lot, and I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” he reassured without thinking about it. You seemed oddly vulnerable about this, and after earlier, he didn’t want you to have any reason to feel insecure with them. He pressed you right up against him and squeezed your shoulder. “I was just making a stupid joke. If I had a real problem, I wouldn’t be holding you like this, alright?” He smiled a little to further his point.

“Alright…” you said, nodding against his chest.

He pecked your forehead as if to punctuate the words. “Good. No more worrying about anything like that. Let’s go find something to do while he’s showering. I’m sure when he’s done he’ll be sniffing around you again.”

You smiled back at that. Rising onto your tiptoes, you stole a quick kiss from him before dropping your hand to grab his and pull him in the direction of the stairs.

“Oh my goshhhh. He’s taking FOREVER in there,” you called out, saying the last bit loud enough so that it’d be audible through the bathroom door.

For someone who claimed they wanted a “quick” shower, Jason was taking his sweet time in your bathroom. At least by your standards anyways.

Your bedroom ended up being the place for you and Dick to hang out while waiting for the third member of your trio. You preferred it for obvious reasons, but clearly so did Jason since he chose to freshen up in the ensuite rather than the bathroom down the hall.

Dick didn’t mind it either. It was the largest of the three bedrooms. The windows had the best view, showing off how the nearby river twinkled under the sunset. And at night, anyone inside got a good look at the sparkling skyline. The bed was the softest and the biggest, but best of all, it was totally yours.

Objectively, the other two were comfortable, but in here, everything smelled like you. Every surface was your favorite color. He could almost imagine you picking out each fine detail. Stepping into this room felt like stepping into a little world of your creation.

His eyes drifted around it now. After the conversation with your father earlier, he could almost see it in a new light. Everything from the elegant curtains to your glamorous vanity in the corner said you didn’t pay for it on your own. He wondered if you had to “bitch and moan” to get it the way you wanted. Or maybe you picked things based on what you thought would be acceptable. Or perhaps because it was something that brought you joy, he wasn’t involved at all.

A little huff from you brought him out of his thoughts.

“What’s he doing in there? Shaving his legs?” you grumbled, sinking back into the mountain of plush pillows behind your head. You crossed your arms and kept your eyes on the TV ahead. It played a random episode of one of your favorite shows, just something meant to be background noise.

Dick chuckled at your persistent impatience and snuck an arm around your shoulders. “You know, I doubt letting him hear how riled up waiting makes you is going to convince him to go faster. As much as you’ve gotten him to soften up, he still likes to annoy you,” he teased.

He kept you tucked to his side, his fingers running up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. You had changed out of your tight workout clothes in favor of something looser to relax in. While not as form fitting, the tiny pajamas you chose left just as much of you exposed to his eyes. His digits danced with the hem of your shorts every time they brushed the silky fabric. 

“I bet he’s jerking off in there,” you said suddenly, ignoring Dick’s statement completely. You glanced at him and then back at the bathroom door. Your eyes bore into the white wood like the mere possibility had insulted you personally.

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think he’s wasting time with his hand when you’re out here,” he said.

“Maybe… Or he’s doing it just to spite me,” you said, feigned accusation still present in your words.

Dick’s gaze lingered on you even after you’d settled into reluctant patience again. You met his stare with a questioning look. “What?” you asked.

He blinked, batting those lashes across his pretty blue irises. “What?” he said back.

Narrowing your eyes, you poked his cheek. “You’re being weird. You’re all quiet and staring… It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe I was just looking at how cute you are right now, all puffed up cause you can’t be patient,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes and leaned into him a bit more, as if he could provide relief from getting flustered. “Nuh uh. I look cute all the time, so that’s not it,” you said. “You just look like something’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me. I’m fine,” he reassured you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, clearly not satisfied. Then it was as if two little wires connected in your head. “It’s nothing about earlier, is it? My dad didn’t tell you something stupid or embarrassing and scare you off, did he?”

He shook his head with a breathy husk of a laugh. “No, nothing like that,” he denied. With how close you were to hitting the mark, he could only wonder how long ago it happened before.

“Ok... just… You know you could tell me if something was wrong. Even if it wasn’t about work or whatever. I know we’re not like friends… and we haven’t known each other that long. But you could always talk to me about real stuff if you ever needed to,” you offered.

“I know that. But I swear, nothing’s up, alright? Do you ever have one of those days where you feel more stuck in your head than usual? I think it’s just one of those,” he said with a kind smile.

You nodded, willing yourself to accept the answer. “Jason must be having one of those too. He’s been gone for like forever and a half.”

“He probably just needs a moment of peace. You are pretty insatiable, and you’ve been all over him all day, climbing on his back and grabbing his arm,” he murmured with a couple playful squeezes to your own side and arm.

Your body twitched and squirmed in response to the little grabs. The sight drew a huffed laugh from him. He’d never met someone as responsive as you. Your body would light up from a few of the most simple touches.

“I’m not worse than you guys. You both are ready to go like all the time,” you said and slid your hand into his lap, trying to find a bulge.

“There’s a difference between being ready to go and being the one who instigates,” he said, grabbing your wrist and moving your hand onto his abs instead.

You didn’t resist the adjustment. Your fingers traced the rigid muscles in his stomach. You’d felt them so many times already, seen them just as much, but they still brought you a sense of wonder. Both of their bodies did. Before them, you had limited experience, and none of it took place with people who resembled divine beings so closely.

He chuckled at the look in your eyes. “You’re too easy, baby.”

Your cheeks heated up. You tried pulling your arm back to shove his head, but he kept it right where it was.

“It’s ok. You know Jay and I think it’s cute,” he said, continuing to gently mock.

He pecked your cheek, smugness found in his every feature. Leaning in closer, he laid a few soft kisses on your throat. Your breath hitched before you tilted your head to allow him more room. The near-instant compliance with his touch had him grinning against your neck. Even while being stubborn, you wouldn’t deny yourself any attention. And to be honest, he couldn’t see himself ever in a situation where he’d withhold it from you.

He took a deep breath, letting his lungs fill with your air. His arms tightened as his mouth parted and closed against your sensitive skin. The tip of his tongue swirled around your pulse point in the way he had come to learn you liked. Your hand pressed down on his abs a little harder just as a tiny moan escaped you.

In the same way that his body put you in awe, you cast a spell totally your own over him. Being so close felt like willfully submerging himself in aphrodisiacal quicksand. You were so soft and so warm under his hands, your flesh so malleable, practically hypnotizing to grope.

His palms glided over you with reverence. They moved slowly, but with enough pressure to exemplify his growing desire. You writhed under his hands as they smoothed from your back to your hips, over your ass and then down to your thighs.

You allowed your own hand to go lax on his torso, slowly bringing it further South. The place you’d searched for a bulge before rewarded you with one now. You could feel the semi-hard outline under your fingers.

He hissed at the lazy rubs you gave it through his pants. “Always so eager for more,” he mumbled.

While he was still very much wrapped up in the feeling of you, going further tempted him just as much. He dropped one of his hands to the elastic waistband of your shorts and shoved it underneath. His fingers ducked below your panties next with the same precision. The middle one slotted between your puffy lips, seeking out your clit.

Already, you’d started to get a little wet. Dick dragged the pad of his digit through the collecting slick, relishing the clicking sound that came with it. His finger then ventured back to your little bundle of nerves. He gave it a few rubs to which your hips jerked and a whine spilled out of you.

Then the bathroom door opened. Neither one of you had even heard the shower turn off while distracted with each other. Steam poured out into the bedroom. Along with it came Jason. He stepped out, baby pink towel low around his hips, stray beads of water trickling over his scars down to his v-line. His eyes immediately landed on the two of you.

“See? So needy before, but I knew you’d have fun with Dick just fine,” Jason said. He shook his hair like a wet dog before advancing further into your room.

“Shut up. You took too long,” you whimpered, rolling your hips into Dick’s hand.

“You think so? You should’ve said something. I could hear you complaining through the door, but I don’t think it got the point across all the way,” he mocked.

He headed over to the door leading back out into the hall, and suddenly, all traces of your attitude vanished. “Wha- Where are you going?” you asked, turning your head to give him puppy eyes. Dick took advantage of the new angle and attacked your neck with his mouth again.

“Where do you think?” he asked.

Of course, you knew where he was headed - down the walkway and into the guest room with his duffel bag. Most of Dick’s stuff had migrated to your bedroom, but Jason still kept his separate. It really didn’t matter to you though; here or there, you did not want him getting dressed either way.

“Nooooo,” you whined, reaching out towards him with one grabby hand. “Don’t put clothes on.”

He almost laughed at your little display. A smile settled on his lips, and he took a few steps back in the direction of the bed. His pupils scanned over your body again, taking in the way your back arched and your heels slid against the blankets. He watched the outline of Dick’s hand pump beneath your shorts.

“I don’t know… I think Dick’s got you covered, sweetheart. Doesn’t look like you need anyone else,” he taunted, running a hand over your head.

“Need you,” you said, whimpering as Dick rubbed a little star onto your clit. “Need both of you.”

“Greedy,” Jason tutted. But he didn’t stop petting your head.

“Nuh uh,” you denied. Your gaze fell down his body, specifically to his waist where that towel remained tucked around him. It would be so easy to reach out and just…

“No?” he said and cupped your jaw, directing your eyes back to his own. “You don’t think you’re acting spoiled?”

You shook your head before looking down at his stomach again. This time you couldn’t help yourself. You extended your arm, hooking your index and middle finger over the fluffy edge of the towel. It barely took any force to tug it free.

The plush fabric vanished, pooling around his feet. Now, at your eye level, his cock hung, thick and heavy. Your pupils all but morphed into little hearts while staring at it.

He didn’t stop you from grabbing the shaft. Your fingers curled around his length and gave it a gentle tug, beckoning him closer to the mattress. For once, he went along with your desire free of protest. He boosted himself up a bit with one knee on the foamy surface. You continued stroking in time with Dick’s fingers caressing your pussy.

His cock rose to life between your digits. It grew stiffer with every twist of your hand or swipe of your thumb over the tip. You watched in amazement as you did every time, and he watched you. Something deep inside of him went wild for that innocuous fascination that would come over your face in moments like these. Jason was well aware that you weren’t a saint by any means, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to corrupt you.

On the other side of your body, Dick’s head popped up from the crook of your neck, looking up at him with lidded eyes. “Would there even be a point in putting your clothes on when she’s gonna pull ‘em off as soon as you get back?” he joked.

You didn’t even register the little joke or how Jason responded because you were so laser focused on giving him a hand job. Your own movements nearly hypnotized you. With every flick of your wrist, desire gnawed at you, begging you to get more. To take more.

“Can I suck on it?” you asked abruptly.

Jason’s hand paused on your head. He looked down at you again, taking in your dilated pupils and parted lips.

“You want me in your mouth?” he checked.

You nodded.

“Do you think you deserve me in your mouth?” he asked next.

Exasperated, you whined. “Jasonnnnnnn. Come on.” You stuck your lip out to add to your plea.

“Alright, hush,” he said, sweeping his hand around to cup your jaw. “No whining. If you want it so bad, then open up.”

The rough pad of his thumb pressed down on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth into a cute little o. His cock throbbed as you looked up at him so sweetly. Your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, and your lids drooped slightly under the weight of your lust.

He shifted his hips forward to guide his length to your awaiting orifice. You tried to reciprocate, leaning towards him as much as you could while still Dick’s grasp.

“Ah ah, lay your head back and let me give it to you. You’ll crane your neck otherwise,” he grunted.

Shockingly enough, you obeyed without issue. You sunk back in Dick’s direction, allowing the pillow behind you to support your head. Jason continued on. His tip nudged the seam of your lips. Droplets of precum smeared on the plump skin.

It took no force to push into the wet warmth of your mouth. Your saliva coated his length, making the shaft shimmer as it slid in and out of your mouth. He could feel your tongue lazily flicking and laving against him. It was cute. Such small efforts as you laid there for him to use.

Dick continued rubbing your clit beneath your shorts, but as Jason found his rhythm with shallow thrusts, he maneuvered his fingers around to prod at your entrance instead. The slender digits applied some light pressure before slipping inside. A mewl erupted from you around Jason’s cock, but your body didn’t protest or try to shut him out. You remained lax with the sensations, allowing him to fuck two between your pulsing walls with ease.

He kissed underneath your earlobe. “Such a good girl, sweetheart. Just relax for me. We’ll keep you all filled up,” he whispered.

You whimpered at the electricity his hushed voice sent down your spine. It was all so overwhelming in the best way. You were full of them in every sense of the matter. Not only were they inside you, but they claimed each of your senses as well. Dick’s lilted voice crooned in your ear while Jason’s scent clouded your nose. You got the taste of him all over your tongue as every nerve ending on your body lit up for them.

All of it made your head spin. Your eyes drooped, and your jaw got a little lazy. Before you knew it, Jason was squeezing your cheeks to grab your attention.

“Keep it nice and wide for me, little brat. Don’t want your teeth scraping me up,” he teased.

“Sorry…” you tried to say, but with a mouthful of cock, it just came out garbled and incoherent.

However, the need to apologize fled your mind fast. The creeping sensation of release replaced it. It started to simmer as Dick curled his fingers within you, finding that sweet spot you never reached on your own.

Your hips started to quake. You rocked up and down in a desperate search for release. They both chuckled as they saw it, knowing all your signs by now.

“Are you almost there, pretty girl?” Dick cooed.

“Mhm,” you whined around Jason.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” he goaded, coaxing you further along.

“Mhm,” you said again; this time louder, more desperate.

His fingers kept thrusting into you. Wet squelches echoed from between your thighs as your peak got closer and closer. You could see it just in front of you, within reach, the sweet, shimmery heat already lapping at you. But just as your body got ready for the final ascent, Dick pulled his digits out.

You bursted with displeased whines and agitated whimpers. In a second, you backed off Jason’s cock so you could grab at Dick’s arm.

“Whyyyy?” you pouted, trying to glare at him. Though, with your eyes all glazed from pleasure, it didn’t come off as any kind of intimidating.

“What?” he laughed, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He slid them inside and sucked them clean while maintaining eye contact with you all the while. “You know you’re still gonna get to cum. You just make it too fun to tease you,” he said once he’d pulled them back out.

The explanation did little to quell your discontent, but before you could voice any of it, a hand wrapped around your ankle and tugged you downwards on the mattress. 

Jason had walked around towards the foot of the bed in the midst of your distraction. He crawled over your legs towards the rest of your body, caressing up your calves as he went. His thumb hooked under the hem of your shirt to boost it up. As he moved, his head ducked down to lay some kisses along your belly.

“Have we left you unsatisfied so far, sweetheart?” he asked, gazing up at you through his lashes.

It was a leading question. Of course, the answer that came from your lips was a soft “no.”

“Exactly. So quit whining. You know Dick and I are gonna take care of you.”

His fingers looped over the waistband of your bottoms next. He yanked them off your legs. Tossing them to the side without a second thought. You watched his movements carefully, having a pretty good idea where he was headed. It just wasn’t something you were used to quite yet.

“Lemme return the favor for you, princess. While I’m doing that, you can do the same for Dick.”

“For what? Not letting me finish?” you huffed.

The fingers belonging to the man in questions landed on your forehead and nudged you back, putting your skull flat on the mattress. He smiled down at you stroking your cheek. 

“No one can ever say you don’t know how to hold a grudge,” he teased.

A little scowl curled on your lips. At the same time, Jason got in position between your legs. You felt his hand cup one of your thighs then the other, placing each on either one of his shoulders.

There was really no time to brace yourself before he dove in. In seconds, that petty expression was gone, wiped clean by parted lips and furrowed brows. Your back curled inward, your body coiling in response to the sudden burst of stimulation down there. Dick watched. It was obvious from the look in his pretty blue eyes that he greatly enjoyed seeing the moment the pleasure took you.

“No, she wants people to think she can hold a grudge, but she’s not as tough as she lets on,” Jason taunted, sounding almost affectionate.

That was the last you heard out of him. Before you had the chance to go back and forth, his lips were on your pussy again. He flicked his tongue over your clit, back and forth, back and forth in quick succession. Your hips bucked while your legs flailed fruitlessly, but Jason was more than strong enough to keep you in place.

A broken whine trickled from your lips. Your heels dug into the firm muscles that spanned over his back. You figured he liked it. The harder you pressed, the more fervor he seemed to have with his mouth.

Beside you, Dick shimmied down his pants and pulled them free. His cock was hard, more than ready for some attention. He gave it a few tugs. Just simple jerks of his hand to the sight of you unraveling under Jason’s skillful ministrations.

As you squirmed, your head tilted in his direction. Your eyes fell on the veiny shaft before you. You remembered what Jason had said. To take care of Dick while he took care of you.

“You ready for me, baby?” he checked, voice hushed as he pet his free hand over your head.

You nodded and opened your mouth into the same shape you had before. He did the work for you just like Jason did. Angling his hips, he tapped his tip against the corner of your mouth before pushing it in. Like usual, he was more gentle than Jason. Despite it being the same action, he handled you with more care.

He got just as much pleasure though. A hearty groan came out of him as you started to suckle on the tip. Your eyes fluttered shut. Having something in your mouth gave your attention somewhere else to go. It acted as a distraction from the bursting bliss between your thighs.

You couldn’t see it, but Jason’s eyes flitted up to your face. He watched you take Dick’s cock while his tongue drew mini figure-eights from the bottom of your slit to your cute little bundle of nerves above. Something close to obsession danced at the center of his green irises. When you weren’t looking, he didn’t bother trying to hide it.

Little whimpers still squeaked from your mouth around Dick, but Jason wanted more. Tiny sounds he had to strain his ears to hear weren’t enough. He stopped licking at you, stopped grazing his tongue across your clit. Instead, he maneuvered the wet muscle lower. He prodded it at your opening and sunk it into you. That got a nice, low moan out of you.

He fucked his tongue in and out, pressing it against your silken walls as you pressed your own against the tender ridge of Dick’s cock. He was hissing too then. The three of you created a chorus of ecstasy, a neverending feedback loop of hissing and squirming.

Jason ground his hips against the mattress as you rolled yours towards his face. He was still holding you down, but your movements got him off. Seeing how desperate you could get, how eager you were to writhe into the pleasure, it had him leaking sticky white pre onto your pretty, pristine sheets.

You could feel that burning hot peak building up inside you again. Your toes curled, and your back started to arch. You knew Dick was getting close too from the way he was panting. That and how his hips were starting to jolt forward a little more frequently.

Jason pulled his tongue out of your slick hole and put his mouth on your clit again. He wrapped his lips around the tiny bud, giving it a harsh suck. You yelped around Dick’s cock. Your whole body jerked, and your head snapped back, his saliva-coated length falling from your mouth.

“J-Jay,” you whimpered. Your hand flew down to grab at his damp hair.

He didn’t answer with words, but the feeling of your digits against his scalp got a groan out of him. His tongue continued to dance over your soaked folds. With everything he had, he worked to bring you to the edge. His fingers dug into the plush of your thighs hard, almost bracing himself as he humped the blanket under him.

Gentle as ever, Dick guided your head back in his direction so he could slip his cock between your lips again. You accepted it happily, sucking it like you had been before being interrupted. Your lips rested right against the ridge. Every little vibration from your squeaks of pleasure reverberated through him.

Those small buzzes were enough to get him to the finish. Dick came first. He sighed and tilted his head back. His hand pressed on your head, keeping you close as his shaft twitched against your tongue. Warm spurts of cum bursted into your mouth, and you had no problem swallowing all that he gave.

In the midst of Dick’s release, you hit your high as well. Just as his was coming to end, you felt something snap inside of you. A loud whine bubbled up inside your chest and left your mouth as you slowly eased off. Waves of bliss coursed through you, your body rolling in trembling waves.

Your thighs squeezed around Jason’s head, and that was when he lost it. 

He continued to devour you through it, not pulling away as euphoria surged through him. You cried out when overstimulation began to set in. Your hands weakly pushed at his head.

In a rare reversal, he listened to you. He pulled back from the junction of your thighs, departing with one final kiss to your clit. His jaw shimmered with remnants of your arousal.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes raked over him. Your small pupils drank in every detail. His tousled hair, his lidded eyes, his puffing chest, his softening cock between those thick thighs… But as your vision drifted down, your gaze landed on the mess he’d left on the plush fabric of one of your blankets.

Sitting up quickly, you grabbed it as if to inspect the sticky patch. “Jason,” you whined, accompanied by a glare.

He snatched it back. “Zip it,” he hushed as he climbed off the bed. “I’ll put it in the wash. It’ll be fine. And if not, I’m sure you can afford a new one.”

You narrowed your eyes at the tight-lipped, mocking smile he gave you. “I can, but I don’t want to. That one’s like the best.”

“Then I guess you’d just have to find better than the best,” he replied before stepping out of your bedroom.

A pouty huff came from your lips, but your eyes lingered on the door. You weren’t actually mad, of course. The wash would get the mess out, and even if it didn’t, what he said was true. You were more concerned with trying to figure out whether or not he was coming back.

On your other side, the mattress lifted with the absence of Dick’s weight. He rose from the bed and stretched his limbs out. Your head snapped in his direction, your hand reaching for his wrist.

“Where are you going?” you asked with a little pout.

He eyed you curiously. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take a leak - if that’s alright with you.”

Your grip on him loosened as you realized you should probably reign these feelings back in. “I just was wondering like if you were coming back, or if you wanted to do something else.”

“Like?” he asked.

“I just didn’t… want you to feel pressured to like stay in here or anything. I know we all mess around and stuff, but you guys can still sleep in your own rooms if you ever want to,” you said.

His eyes narrowed. He leaned in a little, cupping your chin to direct your eye line. “Would you want us to sleep in the other rooms? Are you getting sick of sharing your bed?”

“No…”

“Do you think I want to sleep in the other room?” he asked.

That prompted a longer pause than the other two questions, but after a few seconds, you shook your head.

“Ok then. No need to worry about it. No one’s annoyed with you. If Jason or I wanted to sleep in the other rooms, we’d tell you that,” he said, leaning down to peck your lips.

With that, he walked off to the bathroom and nudged the door shut behind him. In their collective absence, you dragged yourself out of bed. You took the brief period of free time to put yourself back together and get the bed in order again.

Just as you finished putting your pillow into place, Jason strolled into the room. Without a care for all the organization you’d just done, he came over and flopped down onto your mattress. The blankets wrinkled to his shape, and the pillow you just placed toppled over. You pursed your lips in response before hopping up too and lightly slapping his bicep.

“That’s two times you’ve messed up my bed tonight,” you huffed.

His lips spread into a grin. In a flash, his arms looped around your waist as he playfully wrestled you down onto the mattress. You squirmed around, acting as if you were putting up a fight, but only a matter of seconds had gone by before he had you pinned.

Looking up at him now, you almost forgot the man you met on that first day. His green eyes appeared so much softer. His features seemed way more relaxed. He looked as unbothered as Dick sounded. Maybe you didn’t need to worry.

“We could mess it up again, you know. Maybe before Dick even comes back. I can be fast,” he teased, pecking your cheeks.

“Not fast enough,” Dick’s smooth voice cut in from behind.

That made you smile a little bit. The bathroom door clicked shut again, following it came the soft padding of his feet across the carpet. You brushed your fingertips across Jason’s cheekbone before nudging him off you.

He rolled to one side of your bed while Dick settled on the other. This was how it went most nights. You squished in the middle of their two muscular bodies.

Shifting around a bit, you grabbed the remote. Your head leaned onto Dick’s bicep while your leg overlapped with Jason’s. You could already feel sleepiness creeping up on you, but there was one more thing to decide before letting yourself drift off. Really the only thing that still caused arguments as of late.

“So… Do you guys wanna watch something?”

A few hours later, the tv was still on, broadcasting flickering patterns of light across your bedroom walls. The volume stayed low, the words of the characters on screen inaudible. Not that it mattered. You, Jason, and Dick were all fast asleep by now.

Each of you laid in the positions that had become normal to you now. Dick slept supine with one arm up, you curled into his chest, and Jason latched onto your smaller frame from behind. 

The first time this happened it was almost overwhelming to you. You’d spent the vast majority of your nights up until this point alone. The one boyfriend you had in adolescence had never been allowed to sleepover, and the few flings here and there didn’t bother to really spend the night. You were used to the spacious loneliness that came with the mattresses thrice your size.

But since Dick and Jason had taken up residence with you and divided your king sized bed into three sectors, you didn’t think you could ever go back. Without Dick’s strong heartbeat thumping below your ear, something would feel missing. The absence of soft puffs of Jason’s breath against the back of your neck would leave you cold. In only a handful of nights, you’d become acclimated to sleeping with tangled limbs and limited moving room.

Besides the barely audible chatter of the television, your bedroom was always silent at night. The penthouse was so high up, the sounds of the city below never disturbed your slumber. Cars honking, people shouting, trucks huffing. It was all so distant and muted. None of it could penetrate the peaceful haze of your dreams.

Tonight something else was responsible for that. Not just sounds, but something physical that roused you from the depths of unconsciousness.

It started as simple rustling. Just the sheets shifting against each other, the blanket being pulled from beneath one person’s weight to wrap around another’s. And then grunting followed it. It was quiet and uneven, accompanied by heavy breaths.

You didn’t wake from just that though. Only when you heard mumbling and felt more forceful movements did your eyes flutter open.

Jason’s nose wasn’t nestled against the base of your neck. That was the first thing you realized. 

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes while sitting up. Your movements came slow at first, bogged down by your body’s desire to go back to sleep. It took a few seconds to register what was happening. The glow of the tv disoriented you as your mind tried to fit everything into place.

But you soon realized the mumbling and squirming was coming from Jason.

Glancing over at him, you saw him curled up facing the opposite of you. The muscles in his back looked tense, as if bracing for some kind of impact. His legs kicked at the covers, not with their full force since he couldn’t give all his effort but still pretty hard.

You furrowed your brows as you observed for a few seconds. At first, you didn’t understand what you were looking at. But then you heard him more clearly. You could make out words like “no” and “stop” and “get off.” He made a noise that almost sounded like crying, and that was when it clicked.

He was having a nightmare.

Instantly, you scooted closer, kneeling behind his back. You brought a gentle hand down on his bicep and tried waking him with a combination of soothing strokes and weak shakes.

“Jason?” you whispered. You didn’t want him to get pissy about being woken up, but you also didn’t like watching him upset by his dreams.

He didn’t wake up from your cautious touches or quiet call, so you tried a little harder. You shook him with some actual dedication and leaned in closer.

“Jason. You’re dreaming. Wake up,” you said. Your voice remained caring and tender, but you said the words clearly. His eyes stayed shut though so you went for one more attempt. “Come onnnn. Wake up. Don’t make me get some water-”

The pitchy whine snapped his eyes open; only he didn’t awaken with the relieved gasp or tiny jolt you were expecting. Instead, he snapped at you like you’d nudged him with the barrel of a gun rather than your fingers. He flipped around and lunged. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, the other slammed your shoulder down to the mattress.

You squeaked at the blur of motion. Of course, you knew Jason was strong. It was obvious from the way he worked out and the muscles padding his body. You’d just never really felt how strong he was first hand.

This was a different kind of strength from when he fucked you. His fingers didn’t dig in just enough to mark, their pressure against your skin acted as an unspoken threat. He slammed you down with way more force than when he was just manhandling you. In a position like this, you realized how powerless you really were against him, how easy it would be for him to snap your bones or severely maim you if he felt so inclined.

You stared up at him with widened eyes. Your body trembled with a mixture of fear and confusion. Earlier, when he was on top of you, looking all soft and sweet, it seemed hard to compare him to the facade he wore around strangers. But right now, he had morphed into another creature entirely. That quick temper you saw from day one became so much more severe under pressure. It sharpened into something looking to puncture. You didn’t even want to speak his name to try and calm whatever sort of reaction you’d triggered in case the mere sound of your voice would set him off further.

Luckily for you, being throttled onto the bed had been enough to wake Dick too. He came to his senses faster than you had. The second he saw your predicament, he was up. He grabbed Jason’s shoulder and tugged him back without fear. Maybe he’d done this before.

You sat up, rubbing your throat as you scooted back to lean against the headboard. There was no internal damage that you could feel since he hadn’t actually choked you, but the sting of forming bruises along the base of your throat lingered.

“Hey, hey, hey. You were dreaming, man. No one’s here. You’re alright. She’s fine,” Dick murmured to Jason at the end of the bed.

He definitely had done this before. You could tell. The way he positioned his hands on his shoulders and made him look in his eyes. The tone he spoke with, intentionally grounding and firm without being harsh or scolding. It was practiced, tried and true. You wondered for how long had Jason needed this kind of help. For how long had he struggled with whatever caused him to lash out.

It only took a couple moments for Jason to come back down to reality with the both of you. You could nearly see his features relax back into the shape you’d grown accustomed to. His eyes softened, and although his chest still heaved with rough panting breaths, his posture relaxed. He rubbed a hand over his face before his gaze shifted to you.

For a second, he appeared almost sheepish. Though a stoic mask quickly came up to conceal that.

“Are you alright?” he rasped. “I didn’t…”

“I’m fine,” you reassured quickly. “You just startled me a little, but I’m not hurt or anything.”

He nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “That’s… um that’s good,” he said. But he still wasn’t settled. Instead of returning to his previous place next to you, he made his way off the bed. “I’m sorry. I- It- I’m just gonna take a minute,” he mumbled.

“Jason, wait. You don’t have to-” you started, but he was already out the door without looking back.

Your head turned to Dick who was coming to sit next to you again. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to scare him like that. I just touched his arm and-” you tried to explain.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault. You’re ok,” he said. His hands gently maneuvered your jaw around to get a look at the markings on your throat.

“Is he?” you asked. “He seemed really upset. I don’t want him thinking I’m mad or something…”

“He doesn’t think you’re mad. Promise,” Dick said softly. Once he was satisfied with his inspection of your neck, he leaned back against the headboard next to you.

You wrapped your arm around Dick’s, leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat in the silence of the bedroom for a couple seconds. You hesitated before speaking again.

“Why did he get so freaked out?” you asked, voice quieter than before. You knew there was a risk you were prying into something that was none of your business, but didn’t you have a right to know after getting choked-slammed as a result of it?

“Jason… He…” Dick started, clearly contemplating whether he should share or not as well. “A few years ago, he was on a case. One of the last ones at our old firm. He was serving a protection order for this girl. And anyways, the details aren’t too important, but it didn’t go well. He got hurt. The client… she didn’t make it out.”

Your eyes widened. Suddenly, guilt for all the shit you’d given Jason upon meeting him hit you like a truck.

“I… Is that what he dreams about?” you asked.

Dick shrugged. “He’s never told me exactly. I’ve only seen him like that a few times before this, on different cases, but I didn’t think he’d had one in a long time,” he said.

“Does he blame himself for what happened?” you said.

“Of course,” he said, smiling a little despite the words. “Any time something goes wrong on a case, you blame yourself. But there was no way he could have done anything different. We had a leak within the agency that sold out their location. No one knew until it was too late.”

You frowned. This story didn’t get any better the more you learned. You tried to piece this information together with your already existing perception of Jason. Part of you just wanted to imagine what he would have been like before any of that. He probably would have been around your age. Maybe he’d be carefree like you or have a sense of humor closer to Dick’s. It didn’t really matter though. Contextualizing what was real was more important than imagining a life that would never exist.

“Should we…?” you said, tilting your head towards the door.

“No. He likes to be alone afterwards,” he answered.

Your frown worsened. Likes didn’t seem like the correct word here. You doubted he liked any of this. He was probably in his room or downstairs, moping around, feeling ashamed and isolated, wanting company and not knowing how to ask for it.

But Dick was already laying down again, so you followed in suit.

“Just give him till morning. He’ll be ok,” he told you, kissing your forehead before relaxing into the mattress again.

You did not plan on giving Jason till morning.

After lying there for a couple minutes, worry for him still nagged at you. There was no way you were gonna fall asleep like this, thinking of a new scenario every few seconds, all of which involved him lonely and in anguish.

You just waited until Dick fell asleep before creeping out of bed and slipping into the hall. Quiet as could be, you padded down the lofted walkway. You peeked into his room on the way, finding it empty and untouched except for his open duffel bag. He must have been downstairs then.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you found the living room and kitchen empty too. A few more paces in, however, you spotted his figure out on the balcony. He leaned against the railing towards the corner, head hanging forward. His dark hair blew to the side in the breeze outside.

Even though you knew it’d be cold, you opened the door and stepped out. A little shiver overcame you as the chilled air hit your skin. He didn’t look. Either he didn’t hear the door, or he was hoping you’d cut your losses now and go back inside.

But of course, you didn’t.

“How do you not get dizzy doing that?” you called softly as you approached him.

He glanced over in your direction. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights too, little brat?” he asked. Despite the nickname, his voice came out almost hollow. As if someone had carved out his usual mirth.

“Well kinda… I don’t come out here too much,” you admitted with a shrug.

In contrast to your slight aversion, you took up the place next to him, placing your forearms on the frosty steel rail.

“Why do you live in a penthouse if you don’t like heights?” he said.

“I didn’t really choose the floor,” you started. You intended to say more, but a low hum from him cut you off.

“That’s right. How could I have thought otherwise?”

He said it in the way he talked to you before, when you were just a client. When you were just a pest. It hurt a bit, you couldn’t lie. But you didn’t let it push you away. You knew he wouldn’t be in a good mood before you came down here. The time alone probably only hardened his feelings and aimed them more at himself.

“Are you ok, Jason?” you asked, soft and quiet. You reached to touch his arm; however, he put a stop to that by inching away.

“Don’t,” was all he said.

“I just-” you tried.

“I know. You just want to help. But I’m telling you don’t. I don’t need it,” he maintained.

Maybe you should have stopped there. It might have been better to just stand there with him, offer comfort by not letting him be alone even if it had to be through silence. But to be honest… the short tone and the way he interrupted your point pissed you off. You took a deep breath and gripped the railing a little tighter.

“You look like you do,” you said, trying to remain non-confrontational. “You’re out here all alone while it’s freezing.”

“Like I said, I don’t. I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

“But you don’t have to! You can tell me stuff, you know. Like real stuff. I know I’m not like your best friend or anything, but I wanna actually know you. I can listen and maybe help if you let me,” you said, starting the same spiel you gave to Dick earlier.

Only Jason didn’t want it.

“I don’t want help from you.”

Your cheeks burned at the targeted nature of the statement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want help, apparently. No. Just that he didn’t want it to be yours.

“You know you have your right to privacy, and if you really don’t wanna tell me how you feel, fine. But don’t act like I’m a goddamn stranger,” you said.

“Oh, that’s a bad word. You sure daddy lets you say that one?” he retorted.

And that stung. He’d made cracks like that before, of course, on the day you met and those that came after. Right up until that morning where you’d given him all of yourself. That was why it hurt so much when he said it now. It was why your throat tightened a little and your eyes started to sting. You thought that things were different. That he at least understood you even if he didn’t respect you.

“Why are you being such a jerk? I was just trying to help you. Just because you’re too scared to let me in, you don’t have to be rude,” you defended.

He let out a bitter laugh at that. “Oh scared? Is that what I am? You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he taunted. “Because then you’d get to be the one to fix me, and you could finally prove to me that you’re capable. You could get my approval for doing something worthwhile because you know it’ll never come from your daddy.”

The breath vanished from your lungs. You had to actively try not to cry now. Crying would only make you look more pathetic in front of him, and while he may be winning the argument, you’d be damned if you proved him right in any way.

“You barely even know me! How-” you forced out, trying to hide the way your voice cracked.

“If I barely even know you then why the fuck would I wanna talk about this stuff with you?” he said.

Your argument shriveled up on your tongue because, technically, he had a point.

“I was just offering because I thought…” you trailed off. A combination of losing and not wanting to share held you back now.

“I’m not telling you anything because I know you,” he continued. “I know you wouldn’t understand, and you never will. You’ll never know what real pain is. You’ll never have to deal with actual guilt. And I know for a fucking fact shame isn’t a thing in your life.”

You stood there, taking it all. This was the first time he was actually mean to you. Everything in the beginning had been a simmer, but now his temper was heating up. You didn’t even know what to do when he was done. You didn’t want to cower and run off with your tail between your legs, but you also didn’t want to agitate him more.

“Ok, Jason, I get it,” you said. Now yours was the voice that had been hollowed out. This was probably his first time hearing you speak without some form of whining or teasing.

He looked away, and you could tell he realized that he went a little too far. He wanted you to leave him alone but not permanently. But what was said was said. There was no way to unhear his words.

“Look…” he started, but you honestly couldn’t take any half-assed apologies right now.

“It’s fine. Just forget it,” you said, barely more than a whisper, before walking back inside.

The air in the living room was objectively warmer, but the emptiness of the place made it seem chilled. You skulked back upstairs and into your room, slipping into bed with Dick again as if you never left. Your head landed on his chest and your palm rested on the center of his abdomen. You shut your eyes in an attempt to let the sound of his beating heart drown out Jason’s words that were still bouncing around in your skull.

It didn’t really work, but one positive came along with the sadness. It suppressed your anxiety. The pain left you wanting to avoid Jason, so you weren’t at all concerned about whether he was coming back to your bed or not.

You accepted the fact that he’d probably be back in the guest room for good.

[be-xkyy]

Is it bad that I wanna have the yandere men’s babies? 🫣 Cowboys, Sugar Daddy, etc. I’m curious though how some of them would react if reader was enthused to settle down with them and start a family? 🥰

Please don’t stop the breeding/pregnancy kinks

Hi! that's a good question anon and I'll answer it right now.

Yandere reactions to a reader willing and happy to be with them and have their babies.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Masterlist

Yandere Farmer link

This grumpy man doesn't jump for joy or anything, in his mind he doesn't understand why he would be elated by the simple fact that you know your place and where you belong? You belong beneath him receiving his fat cock in your greedy pussy. End of story.

He already thinks he's old (maybe just a little...) and that he's running out of time to have a family and you accepting your place without making a fuss takes a huge weight off his shoulders, he takes you to live with him that very day and oh... you'll realize that this man has the stamina of a bull and the same softness.

As soon as you arrive he already has you bent over the kitchen table with your cheek pressed against the oak wood while his fat cock abuses your pussy, his fat balls slapping your plush ass with a dirty sound while a large hand holds you tightly by the back of the neck squeezing the little hairs deliciously.

From that day on you will have your poor pussy sore and overstimulated because he will fuck you all the time and at all hours.

He fucks you in the morning when the rooster wakes up and doesn't even crow yet but he's already buried deep in your pussy, he fucks you in the barn on a pile of hay when you go to feed the horses, he fucks you in the afternoon when he takes a break after hours in the field under the sun, he fucks you in the shower when you go to bathe to clean off the dirt from a productive day of work and he fucks you when you go to sleep with his calloused hand squeezing your throat, your eyes are rolled back as he fills your fertile pussy with his thick cum for the eleventh time that day.

That repeats itself every day so it's no surprise when just a month later you find out you're pregnant, did that soften it? No really I keep fucking you mercilessly and squeezing your throat until you see stars but you notice him rubbing your flat belly from time to time.

"The children in my family are big— when the baby grows up you may feel a little uncomfortable at first but don't worry, you will feel better during the seventh or eighth pregnancy."

Yandere Cowboy link

Well, reader actually does like yandere Cowboy (since she doesn't know what a bad person he really is) so from the start she wants to be with him and does what he asks her, she stopped taking birth control when he asked her to, she let him fuck her where he wanted and kept her legs up with a pillow underneath for half an hour so his semen wouldn't leak out because he asked her to.

Besides the fact that he knows how to take advantage of her, she's too young and naive and believes that besides her father he's the only one who loves and values ​​her, so it's normal for her to let him sneak into her room (secretly from her father obviously) to fuck like rabbits, he squeezes her in a tight mating hold that barely lets her breathe keeping her legs pressed down almost touching her ears.

He pumps his fat cock into her pussy frantically as she lets out low mewls, he uses a calloused finger to rub circles on her tiny clit that tightens around his member from the overwhelming pleasure she feels and he lets out a guttural growl as he watches her delicious tits bouncing right in front of his face, with one final thrust he cums deep inside her womb flooding it with his swimmers.

"That was so good baby doll, ugh— ha! I bet after this I'll get you pregnant with twins, and if that's not the case we'll try again and again until it works."

Yandere Dilf link

I'd be over the moon, really. He already believes you're his wife, he's believed it since he first saw you holding his son (very delirious) and for you to accept that fact so happily and willingly to be his, to have his babies, would only increase his already enormous delusions.

You won't be going to college anymore, of course not. You'll stay home to take care of his son and prepare everything for when he comes back from work, as a reward he'll make love to you every night without exception, he'll fuck you fervently with one of his hands covering your mouth, muffling your high-pitched moans while his cock drills your swollen pussy mercilessly.

He'll kiss your tits and neck before licking the salt off your skin as he tells you how much he wants to fill you with his babies, that you'll be the prettiest mother ever, all fat and round with one baby in your belly while you hold the other on your hip, he keeps repeating those things over and over again until he finally reaches the limit by cumming deep inside your swollen pussy just like it should be.

"Darling— let's do it again, what if once isn't enough...? Come on spread your legs."

Yandere Sugar Daddy link

Honestly this man is arrogant as fuck when he sees how happy and willing you are to be his and have his brats, he'll end up gloating while pinching your cheek telling you how proud he is that you came to your senses and are his good little girl.

Obviously he'll take you to live with him in his mansion a big one so his future children can have fun running around all over the place, you'll drop out of your law career after all now you have him and his kids soon so why study? He'll fuck you anywhere, he'll fuck you on his private jet forcing you to ride him while the embarrassed stewardesses serve champagne without making eye contact, he'll fuck you on all fours in front of the fireplace filling you with his cum over and over again scolding you playfully when his cum comes out of your pussy staining his 50 thousand dollar carpet he sticks two fingers in your pussy plugging you.

He doesn’t stop fucking you when he finds out you’re pregnant, he doesn’t stop fucking you when you’re 7 months along and your stomach is all big and swollen, he lays you down on the bed making you ride him you bounce up and down as best you can while his hands rub your ass before moving up to your belly heavy with his child, his child, just the thought of him doing this to you turns him on so much, he ends up cumming inside you every time, without fail.

“Fuck— I wish I could put another one of my babies inside you right now, see you even more swollen with my children. Shit— move again.”