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changbunnies · 4 months ago

Text

Crave (18+)

♡ Pairing: Romantic Lust Demon!Hyunjin x Plus Size Human Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: supernatural au, demon au, demon/human relationship, age gap relationship typical in fics of this genre, despite the immoral demonic behavior this is intended to be a lot more soft and romantic than the warnings will make it sound lmao

♡ Word Count: 21.9k

♡ Summary: "The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain." – Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy. In which Hyunjin, a demon from the nine circles of hell, finds himself impossibly infatuated with the very human he once set upon himself to destroy.

♡ Warnings: discussions about religion from the perspective of a demon, themes of sexual purity in the context of religion, a lot of immoral behavior and thoughts + ideas from hyunjin (such as snooping, infiltration, and manipulation), references to death / dying, use of supernatural abilities, themes of possesiveness and jealousy, the seven deadly sins are brought up multiple times, hyun is thousands of years old so take that as you will lol, reader's age is not specified but is implied to be at least mid to late 20s, hell's structure is based off dante alighieri's depiction of it in the divine comedy but knowledge of it isn't necessary to enjoy this fic!

♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes + references to sex outside of smut scenes, masturbation, noncon voyeurism, porn watching, sex with hyun in both his human and demon form, wine drinking (but neither reader or hyunjin gets drunk), pet names (my love, lovely, baby, gendered language such as "good girl"), dom/sub dynamics with switch implications, pleasure dom hyunjin, kink exploration and establishing limits + safe words, traffic light system - reader uses "yellow" once, lots of kissing (per my standard), some nipple play, oral (m + f receiving), fingering (f receiving), biting / marking, choking, dacryphilia, slight overstim, multiple orgasms, improper use of a tail :) take that as you will :), size kink, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: this is a reupload + edit of an old fic so if you start to read and get deja vu, that's why lol originally, this was a series posted in several parts but for cohesion i'm reuploading it all together in one post! i also fixed up various parts i felt i could've written better, so it should be a better reading experience this time! and if this is ur first time seeing this story, i hope you enjoy it! <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There are many things in this world, the world of humans, that even a monster such as Hyunjin was born to desire. A primal want, weaved into the very fabric of his being, designed to be etched into his soul– if he had one, that is.

That is what initially brought him here; the heart of one of the world's most populated cities, his territory an otherwise unoccupied luxury suite in one of the many skyrises that line the bustling streets.

It was an ideal place to be; there wasn't much in the way of furniture, given that it's a new development with no human occupants, but the amenities it held were sleek and pristine. High windows that overlooked the entirety of the city rife with sin from what was nearly the top floor, marble countertops that screamed sophistication and elegance, and well equipped with security of both the physical and digital kind to keep out those who may want to chase the thrill of wandering where they do not belong.

Hyunjin, who could simply float about wherever he wished, had no need for human things like beds or sofas. The fact that it lied barren and empty was no deterrent– in fact, it was better that way.

In this space, he already had everything he needed– an ideal vantage point, isolation from the world until he himself chose to interact with it, and easy access to the myriad of damned soul that walked the streets beneath him. It was perfect, and it was his– until you showed up.

Hyunjin was no stranger to dealing with potential renters overtaking his territory– it was only natural for those with wealth to be ready to spend a fortune on the newest availble luxury apartment that catches their eye.

While Hyunjin had never once been seen; he was certainly known; rumors abound of an evil presence in suite 13, that left even non-believers fleeing in terror, leaving as quickly as they came. "Evil" felt a bit extreme of a description from Hyunjin's perspective, but what would humans truly understand of him?

He always felt as if his actions were completely justified; after all, why should a being with immense power such as him bend to the will of a measely human whose life was akin to a grain of sand in the desert of immortality that was his own lifespan?

Regardless of his justifications and thoughts on what is evil and what isn't, he welcomed the fear humans have towards him– it made his life easier if they feared him and stayed far from his domain.

And yet here you were, seemingly ignorant of the fearful reputation this apartment held (not that he expected that the building's landlord would have informed you of it, of course– their only goal is money, at the end of the day.)

Hyunjin didn't care for the rules of humans– whether or not you'd supplied the necessary money to purchase your way here or were deserving of it made no difference to him. It was his until he decided otherwise, and you were trespassing on his territory by being here.

When he'd first arrived back after a long outing back in his home within the second circle of the nine hells, only to see you filling his space with your things, walking about the apartment as if you owned it, blissfully unaware of his presence– it was infuriating.

He had half a mind to scare you out right then, forever scar you by showing you his true form, send you running as he'd done to countless before you who tried to be here. But no, that wouldn't be enough. It would be letting you off too easily for his liking; this was different than scaring off someone who might intrude on his home– you already had.

What he wanted was more than his territory back– he wanted to make you suffer the most egregious torment one could ever endure for intruding on it, something far worse and much harsher than whatever a demon below his stature could muster.

You deserved worse than that of mild terror, or to be able to flee from his space without repercussions for your transgression. No, he would only take back what was his after he'd turned your mind into a den of paranoia and hysteria. You needed to know true terror, true loss, true suffering, by his hand.

So he settled for observing you– it would be a longer process, one that could easily take months to reach true fruition, but the reward would be well worth his patience. He watched carefully, intently, his presence always concealed but unmistakably there. You would feel it sometimes, unbeknownst to yourself.

A sudden chill up your spine, the subtle feeling of being watched making you turn your head, only to be met with nothing unusual in your line of sight. Funny, how humans were so attuned to the supernatural while simultaneously being so oblivious to their reality.

Your routines became committed to his memory, your every step and every action becoming increasingly familiar to him. Boring at times, but necessary if he wanted to learn the ins and outs of what makes you you, taking in every detail and memorizing them fully, so that when the day comes for him to turn your life into a miserable tragedy, forming you into a shell of who you once were, you'd have to beg him for forgiveness, for his mercy.

What were your fears? He'd easily make them reality. What did you hate? He'd make sure you suffered it. What broke your heart? He'd subject you to that pain over and over, until your heart was left shattered into a million, microscopic pieces.

And it was only then, when you were mentally destroyed, the lowest you could ever possibly be and unrecognizable in your despair, that he'd appear before you, triumphant as he made you apologize for ever having stepped foot in his domain.

But as he observed you, he came to realize something strange- something he had never once found himself thinking about a human before. You were so... good, the closest to perfection a human could ever possibly be. And not perfect by the bullshit puritan standards set by the "heavenly creator," because you were as touched by sin as any human is, but perfect to him specifically.

Your sins were few and far between, with only one making a substantial impact on your purity; but it was the most important, most delicious sin of them all, the one that made Hyunjin's body seethe with delectable desire.

You weren't envious, nor greedy or gluttonous; you lived in a luxurious penthouse suite, that was true, but greed to have the best of everything isn't what brought you here. The pride you felt for your accomplishments didn't go anywhere near sinful levels– you were proud of yourself, but not in such a way that you looked down on others while you sat atop your high horse.

You weren't slothful, brought to your current position by your own hard work and tireless efforts, and you weren't wrathful either, your emotions toward your fellow man always sweet, compassionate, and gracious. That only left one sin– just one that impacted your soul, that barred you from reaching true, godly purity.

Lust.

It wasn't an unhealthy amount of lust by any means, but any at all is enough to damn an unmarried woman's soul if she gives in to the temptation– an unfair ruling that has cost many their rightful place in paradise. And you certainly did give in to your temptation, and that is what made you perfect to him.

You had none of the avarice of other humans, none of the undesirable qualities that made them foolish and arrogant and insufferable to deal with, instead held closely by one desire, the most important desire.

Was it a coincidence, he wondered? That he, a demon born of lust himself, found one such human that seemed to adhere perfectly to what he enjoys most?

Hyunjin often felt himself above that of the sins his brothers were born to pursue. Violence did not suit him, emotions such as greed, pride, and jealousy often went beyond his comprehension. And not because he was some lowly, ignorant creature who was only capable of thinking with his dick, but because those feelings simply never came to him to begin with.

What was there to be jealous of? If he wanted something, he could have it, he could take it, as simple as that. Was he prideful? Sure, one could say he was, say that he has an ego, but he would argue that there was a clear difference between the arrogance that often comes with pride, and simply having confidence in one's own abilities and joy in their accomplishments.

He knew he could feel other emotions, indulge in other sins, if his brothers' conquests and actions were any tell, but he simply.. didn't. Lust was all he knew, was all that he enjoyed, but at the same time, he wasn't some low level demon who was consumed by lust.

No, he could control it quite easily if he wished, was more than capable of waiting for the most ideal moment to finally savor in the addictive dance two bodies can share. (Or more than two bodies, should one prefer that.)

Lust was all he ever knew, but unlike the sex-starved beasts he ruled over and observed in his circle within hell, he was very much in control of himself. Make no mistake, it never went away, he always felt the gnawing craving for more and more and more– but it never addled his mind. That was the perk of being a demon with a higher consciousness than that of say.. an imp. He had complete control of his compulsions and desires.

It was this control over himself that led to Hyunjin savoring the lust that poured from human souls in only the most ideal conditions. There were many different kinds of lust, each with their own "taste" so to speak, and while Hyunjin found them all enjoyable to at least some degree, there was one in particular that was the most intoxicating to him, one that never failed to light a fire within him, the one that was always, always, worth waiting for.

The lust between two lovers, whose care for eachother was true, and good, and special– such as you would see from couples sleeping together for the first time, full to the brim with nervous excitement. Or maybe from long-time lovers reigniting their spark with a romantic night spent together after a warm, candlelit date.

Especially delectable was the sweet consummation after making an eternal promise under God to be together forever, in sickness and in health, 'til death do you part. Those are just a few examples of the sort of lust that gave Hyunjin the best, sweetest taste.

The irony of being an immoral entity who gained the most enjoyment out of love and romance wasn't lost on him, but his preferences weren't built on some misconceived notion that he could aspire to feel those things himself. Yes, Hyunjin knew he would never feel the human emotion that was love, but he could understand, at least on a superficial level, why it tasted so sweet, and why humans seemed to fight for that feeling above all else.

Perhaps he existed to be a hypocrite, sowing seeds of chaos and turmoil while valuing true love, contradicting that which humans believed they knew about demons of lust such as himself. After all, was it not the very nature of a demon to confuse, contradict, and twist the human condition?

And was it not utterly against his being to indulge in a feeling that was considered sacred by God? It didn't matter either way; if there was one thing that Hyunjin knew for certain, it was that sweet tastes were the best, and it didn't matter where it originated from or how– he just knew he liked it.

And oh, how his proverbial heart jolted when he sensed it on you the first time he saw you touching yourself. It was a surprise when, after a long day of unpacking and arranging furniture, you let your hand travel sinfully between your legs with a heady sigh– and far be it from Hyunjin to deny himself the opportunity to feed on a human's lust when it's practically being delivered to him on a silver platter.

You hadn't been touching yourself for long, barely got your panties down your legs when he tasted it– subtle, but familiar enough to Hyunjin that he could recognize it anywhere. It was hard to explain the sweet taste in human terms– there were really no words that could come close to describing it, as the "flavor" itself didn't exist within human understanding.

Suffice it to say, it was something entirely unique to his kind, and something any demon would be able to distinguish with ease should they be in close enough proximity. It was unmistakable– you loved someone. That was information that could serve him well, something that he should be delighted to know he could ruin you with. And yet, for the first time in all his thousands of years, the feeling of lustful love left a bitter taste on his tongue.

You were in love.. And you envisioned that person while your fingers were buried between your legs, as you bit your lip and made your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

Who was it? Why did you love them? Were they even deserving of someone as perfect as you? Did they deserve to touch you? To feel you? Hyunjin grit his teeth, fists clenching into tight balls as an unfamiliar feeling began to permeate through the entirety of his being.

Is this.. what envy feels like? A rage beyond comprehension at the thought of someone else having you when it should be him?

He should be the one you desired to have touching you, the one you imagined marking your unmarred skin, the one who made you cry out and tremble with even the simplest of touches. Would they even indulge in the sweet taste you radiate like he would? Would they even understand what perfection it is you offer simply by being?

His, you should be his, only his, his, his.

The realization hit Hyunjin like cold water over hot skin– he wants you. And not just for one night, not superficially, not with needing to part ways afterwards. He wants you to love him, wants the feeling of love-drenched lust that radiates off you to be because of him, wants you to belong to him and him alone.

You don't know him yet, but you will. And he'll make sure you're left wanting him, and only him, by any means necessary. Because it's what he wants, and he always gets what he wants.

Hyunjin wants to say it's simple curiosity that leads him to carefully steal your phone off your nightstand once you've fallen asleep, or that he's acting with the desire to know how to ruin the target of his ire more succinctly, but that simply isn't true.

No, he is scrounging through your phone not with the intent to learn your greatest fears and hates, nor does he scour your messages to discover your darkest secrets. It's a different purpose that has led him here, an unfamiliar ache that drives him to search your phone for something more.

In hindsight, going through your phone to learn about you is a simple, easy act he could've, should've, done already, but he's a bit of a traditionalist in that regard. (Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit how much he's liked watching you these past few weeks.)

Who is that you love? And why? It would've been easier for him to find out had you truly let yourself go, allowed yourself to be loud and moan their name to your heart's content, but you hadn't. And maybe that was a good thing, as hearing someone else's name leave your lips in such a moment would've definitely sent him into a dangerous hate spiral, but that also meant he was left with nothing to go on as a clue.

He was much too stunned, and then seething with anger and jealousy, to read your thoughts in the moment, and if he tried to do so now, while you were sleeping, all he would do is catch a glimpse of your dreams– not helpful in the slightest, unless you happen to be dreaming of the object of your desire. (Which you weren't. He already looked.)

Unlocking your phone is easy, as he's seen you put in your password several times over at this point. Unfortunately for him however, (and fortunate for the one undeserving of Hyunjin's wrath,) he finds nothing that makes the object of your affection explicitly obvious. Your texts with friends all use the same tone, you talk about mundane things like what movies are coming out or how you wish you could go on a vacation for a while.

Your photo gallery is relatively small, filled mostly by screenshots of things you wish to remember or keep for a laugh, and the occasional selfie. There's nothing that screams "this is the person i'm in love with!" no matter where in your phone he looks, and if it wasn't for how intensely he felt the emotion radiating from you as your fingers sped up and release built, he'd think he must have imagined it.

What interesting this he does find, however, are the differen't porn links littered through your incognito tabs, all that paint a very vivid picture of what you find most appealing– or in more vulgar terms, what gets your pussy really fucking wet.

He skims through your collection of favorites and private bookmarks, and quickly comes to realize they all hold a similar theme– love, romance, and doms who are soft even when being rough with the sub's body, or speaking condescending words.

Various videos and audio files, with titles such as "roommate gets railed after confessing her secret feelings," "pov: boy next door accidentally confesses and then fucks you passionately," and "soft dom makes his good girl cum hard: boyfriend asmr." There's even an entire erotic movie, much to Hyunjin's surprise, with a 2 hour run time and dedicated plot in your recent bookmarks.

He decides to watch it, for research purposes of course– what better way to get to know the object of his desire than by watching the porn she consumes for himself? It's rather generic as far as ideas go– childhood best friends confessing their love before going away to college, with sweet, sensual but desperate fucking and a promise they'll be in love no matter the distance put between them. A cliché plot, by human media standards.

However, he has to give it due props– it's obviously not an amateur production. It's acted well, has better cinematography than one might expect for a film produced by a porn studio, and the dialogue never crosses into cringe, overtly fake territory.

Despite it all, something about it feels real, as if he'd taken a genuine glimpse into the lives of two young people in love, rather than a manufactured video meant to make the people who watch it unbearably horny.

Hyunjin continued through your collection after that, eager to see what other gems lied in your favorites, waiting to be watched by him. They're all the same fundamentally speaking, your preferences and biases easily shining through with each video watched and audio listened to.

Emotionally charged, romantic confessions, sweet "i love you"s, soft, caring doms who take good care of the submissive one, making them feel desired, beautiful, and secure. The person you're in love with, the one who lingers in your mind when you watch these videos and your hand travels between your legs– this is what you want them to do.

You want them to love you passionately, to make you fall apart in the sweetest of ways, to take care of you so well that your thoughts can linger on nothing but the way they make you feel. You want them to sweetly tell you they love you while they fuck you, to speak filthy words in your ears in a soft, saccharine voice as they make you cum. To fuck you dumb, to ruin you, and then expertly put you back together with a tender touch.

Carefully, he puts your phone back in its place, looking at you once he's done, still sound asleep in your bed and without a clue in the world that there's a demon standing before you, close enough to touch. You've lived with Hyunjin for weeks now, but you don't know who he is, don't know that he's there, don't know that you have unexpectedly become the reason for a demon's strange and new complex emotions. Isn't it funny? How a demon as powerful as him has become infatuated with you despite you not even knowing he exists.

It's illogical to desire you, truly. Humans are fickle, subject to corruption and irrationality, their lives impossibly short. What one man works his entire life to obtain, Hyunjin can have in mere moments with a fraction of the effort.

To a being that has lived thousands of years, the life of a human happens in a mere blink. You grow old, you get sick, you die, your accomplishments fade to nothing, forgotten as the next wave of humans walk the earth in your stead. You're beneath him, he's better than you, and yet..

Why does he still crave you so? Maybe he's no better than the humans he's looked down upon, considering them lesser for their innate hypocrisies and irrational actions– because Hyunjin is about to do just the same.

His feelings for you are hypocritical, irrational, foolish, but also the most real thing he's ever felt. And if it's romance you want, that will make you fall head over heels for him, then he'll be the most romantic demon the nine hells have ever known.

How do you make a human fall in love? A question that is perhaps simple in theory, but Hyunjin hasn't wooed a human in centuries, and much has changed since he last blended in with society.

In the modern age of technology, sin is at the most rampant it's ever been. The common man can access all manner of sin from the palm of his hand with a single device, and it has made the act of integrating into human society an unnecessary practice for demons.

There's a plethora of human sin to feed from at any given moment, and obsolete is the need for a demon to blend in with the humans that walk the earth, no longer required to be a snake in the community garden just waiting for their moment to strike and consume.

Though an outdated method to obtain their wants, integration with humans can still be done, if only the demon in question wishes to do so– and as Hyunjin has come to realize, he does if he wants to win over the object of his desire.

Despite how long it's been since Hyunjin walked among them, he wasn't ignorant of modern human culture; he still had to be well-informed if he wanted to be effective and efficient in sowing the seeds of sin in feeble minds, after all– his work in the second circle required such knowledge, and it was also a benefit when it came to deciding which soul he would drink from to sustain himself.

He knew perfectly well how to use most modern technology, knew how to dress in a manner that was unique to his own tastes but suited the trends of the era. Whatever "pop culture" knowledge he lacked, as it was called by humans, he could blame it on things such as "preferring to stay off social media," or "not watching much tv or playing much games." Most would take it as a fair, reasonable enough excuse, even if the person asking questions of him could not relate to his answer.

In the last century especially, most of Hyunjin's public outings were limited to a few hours at most, spending that entire time scoping out who'd satiate his cravings the most. Nightclubs in particular were an easy place for Hyunjin to get a quick fix of the lust he needed, sustaining him well enough when his preferred love-drenched lust was still being built to its peak.

Despite all his experience in human matters, there was something that posed a problem for him initially. Since moving into your lavish suite, you worked from home– a luxury Hyunjin assumes you have from a high ranking position within whatever company you work for (especially if this is the kind of place you can afford to live in on a single salary.)

But if you only ever left the house long enough to run errands, how was he supposed to meet you organically? And further still, how does he meet you in such a way that makes contact with you consistent, that makes you want to talk with him and be in his presence?

He could, theoretically, stage a meeting, pretend to be a neighbor entering the building at the same time or "accidentally" bump into you while shopping for something he has absolutely no use for, only to then charm you the moment your eyes lock with his.

The problem with that approach is that charming you defeats the purpose of what he wants; for you to have genuine, real love for him, and only him. And asking you out after meeting you just once, in a situation where you have no reason to connect with him further, could be uncomfortable or off-putting in the eyes of women. What woman likes to be hit on by a stranger while she's grocery shopping?

Hyunjin's human form is attractive, sure, but looks can only carry him so far when it comes to making a woman fall for him. His appearance is useful for one night stands, but he needs to show you more substance than that if he wants you to desire him beyond the physical– and he was sure based on his observations of your character that you weren't vain or superficial enough to fall for him based on looks alone.

Thankfully, he didn't have to ponder on these questions for much longer, because only a few short days after you finished all your unpacking and decorated your apartment to your liking, you returned to work.

He could tell easily enough what your destination was when your routine suddenly deviated; for the first time since moving in, you had turned on a repeating alarm for 6 a.m, and your choice of business casual clothing and subtle, office appropriate makeup told him all he needed to know.

Hyunjin followed you there, naturally; presence hidden, lingering in the shadows with the intent to best establish how to infiltrate your work environment. As he suspected, you held a high ranking position inside a corporate office– head of human resources for one of the many subsidiaries of some conglomerate Hyunjin had never heard of, as typically there is no need or reason for him to be well versed in human's business dealings.

Becoming someone you work with directly would be the best route, he was sure. Whether on equal ground or as someone answering to you on a team, it was the option that gave him the most opportunity to create a connection with you, and maybe be the start of one of those sappy office romances that humans seem to enjoy in their media.

It was fine if there were no employment openings– it'd be simple for Hyunjin to create one by exerting his influence over a human's mind. He'd pick out whomever you liked the least, someone who bothered you either overtly or simply by being an inefficient worker, and he'd take their place. He could plant the idea of a career change, a desire to move across the country, or simply sabotage their work and get them fired should the gentler, subtle approach be deemed too time consuming for Hyunjin's taste.

Of course, Hyunjin knew jack fucking shit about how your job truly works or what would be required of him if he was on your team, but that was fine too– it would be easy for him to fake his performance when necessary, and charm any who questioned his work abilities.

He wouldn't enjoy lying to you directly if there was ever a need for it but, well.. The ends justify the means, don't they? And while he wouldn't charm you for love, certainly it wouldn't hurt to do so to make him appear a better worker than what he would be in reality, right?

No matter what his hypocritical justifications were, he’d do anything necessary to make you his, even if it meant having to lie at times. It was a foreign feeling, having a guilty conscience– after all, lying is as innate to a demon as breathing is to humans.

He supposed his infatuation for you is what makes lying begin to feel different. Is that why truth was considered a godly virtue? It was the first time in his life that just the thought of lying, before it could even be an act done in the first place, felt.. wrong.

Maybe because on some subconscious level he recognized that love woven from lies isn’t true, no matter how much he’d wish it to be. Even if you fell sincerely in love with him, would it still satisfy him to have gotten there based on tricks and lies?

When he determined that the answer to that question was a firm “no,” he vowed he would do his best to keep lies far from his lips when it came to you, even if that made his goal more difficult to achieve. Strange, how this was easily the most human he’d ever felt.

In a way, it is almost natural to feel this way, to be met with internal conflict for the first time in ages; most demons are born directly from human sin, after all. What is he, if not the physical manifestation of a human who has fallen from perfection?

More powerful than a mere human though he was, his proverbial soul still held an innate inclination towards sin, still struggled with the temptation and decadence inherent to his very being. Hypocrisy and corruption went hand in hand with sin, hand in hand with the very human condition he would oft wrongfully deny he felt.

And that wasn’t the only human emotion that came to him when he watched you at work for the first time. Most of the morning was spent rather uneventfully, Hyunjin’s time dedicated entirely to scoping out the environment and determining where he’d best fit within your corporate world.

He observed the people on your team, who was designated where and what their duties were, keeping track of what feelings and opinions you had for whom, looking out for who he would be able to effectively replace.

Without warning, he sensed it, felt it, tasted it– love, seeping out of your pores, heart suddenly alight and a smile that should be reserved for him lingering on your lips. Jealousy pricked Hyunjin’s skin before he could even fully process the scene before him, a deep fondness in your eyes as a man that Hyunjin could only assume was from another department approached you with a smile of his own.

Shit. It was expected that he would find out who you loved eventually, but he didn’t anticipate that it would be here, in the very environment he was setting up to be the stage for your romance with him.

The man asked you questions and talked in ways you’d expect to hear between friends and coworkers– “how’d the move go?”, “are you settling in well?”, and “you should invite me over sometime!”

It was the last statement that made Hyunjin’s eye twitch with suppressed anger, not much liking the idea of the person you’re in love with being alone with you in your apartment. Every time you giggled at something he said or blushed when the man held your gaze, it nearly made him sick with envy.

Fuck him, he didn’t deserve you, Hyunjin thought, I'm better than him in every conceivable way, that should be me.

This man didn’t love you the way you loved him; Hyunjin could tell, could feel the platonic affection that radiated from him. And instead of being happy about the implication that Hyunjin would have no rival for your affection when he pursued you in earnest, it almost made him more pissed off.

This guy didn’t even know how fucking perfect you were, didn’t seem to notice the way your eyes sparkled with affection, how your heart raced when he hugged you, or the bashful smile that lingered when he invited you to share your lunch hour with him.

He’s a complete fucking idiot for not being head over hells for you– you, who’s only sin is lust, who is beautiful, intelligent, humble, and positively radiant in presence without even realizing just how much value she truly has.

It’s okay, he has to remind himself, it’s a good thing his one-sided rival doesn’t share your sentiment; because when Hyunjin shows you how beautiful you are, treats you with the reverence you deserve, your heart would surely shift to beat for him instead. He’ll make sure of it.

You let out a sigh as you comb through the next resume that found its way to your desk, exhausted from the amount of interviews you've conducted today. This was probably your least favorite aspect of your job if you were being honest; being the head of human resources put you in charge of all recruiting efforts, scanning through countless applications to determine who was the best fit for the company, but you never enjoyed doing it.

It always makes you feel guilty to determine someone else's worth based on a flimsy piece of paper and interview first impressions, where nerves are almost always at their peak as the person sitting across from you makes their best conscious effort to impress you. It is also not a job you can delegate to someone else on your team, unfortunately; your place at the top of the HR department made all hiring decisions entirely up to your own discretion.

And apart from the guilt of knowing you couldn't hire everyone that walked through your door, it was so tiring to go over the same questions multiple times a day with a myriad of strangers.

Hwang Hyunjin was the name of the last person you'd be interviewing today (much to your relief) and you hoped he'd be the person to wow you in the end, as you have lukewarm feelings to who you've met thus far.

Despite the impressive credentials on most resumes you reviewed, none of the people you'd met seemed to be a good long term fit for the company; some of them would likely only be good as temps, needing to be let go unless they showed substantial improvement in the areas they were lacking in.

It was a terrible thing to judge someone based on whether or not they were able to calm their nerves or had enough charisma, but when working for corporate conglomerates you can't afford to be meek. It was okay to be shy and reserved in your personal life, many people in the office were, but for the sake of professionalism you're required to have the ability to put meek tendencies aside.

If the interviewee couldn't speak with confidence, then you had reason to believe they'd crack under the daily pressures of speaking with representatives of other departments or when handling sensitive negotiations. Unfortunately, you don't typically have the luxury of giving applicants the benefit of the doubt or the ability to give them the opportunity to change your first impression of them.

You take a glance at the clock hanging above the door to your office, opposite of your desk; it's just a few short minutes until you meet your last applicant, and you pray he'll be the person you've been looking for. Despite how desperate you are to fill the hole in your team after Mina's extremely abrupt resignation and move out of the country, you still don't want to desperately hire someone just to fill the gap she left- you want someone capable and confident on your team.

You take one last passing glance at the man's resume, making sure you're familiar with his education and work history, not wanting to be mistaken on any of the details listed. A short succession of knocks are heard on your door a few moments later, and you look up from the resume you're rereading to see Nayeon opening the door just enough for her head to come into view.

"M-Ma'am, H-Hwang Hyunjin, uh- he's here for his interview," she speaks in a timid voice, face flushed the brightest pink you'd ever seen on her. Your brows furrow ever so slightly in wonder and concern at her out of character demeanor; Nayeon is among the most confident and well spoken employees on your team, and you've never known her to stutter or appear so off kilter.

"..Right, send him in," you say after a moment, wondering if her attitude shift is due to the stranger you'd be meeting shortly; if that is the case, you'll have to talk to her about it once the interview is over– you wouldn't want to hire someone the people on your team are uncomfortable around.

She nods and opens the door further, the silhouette of the taller man coming into view just slightly behind her. "Right in here," she mutters, stepping to the side and motioning for Hyunjin to enter your office. It becomes immediately apparent what the reason for Nayeon's abnormal behavior is; Hwang Hyunjin is easily one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen in your entire life.

Black hair that just begins to touch his shoulders tucked neatly behind his ears, a few strands left untouched to frame his face, accompanied by wide circle glasses that seem to further enhance his beauty. He's dressed well, his suit modern and sleek but not overly formal for the setting, his accessories tasteful and understated, as they should be in an office environment– just a simple, long chain necklace and small, almost dainty hoops on his pierced ears.

The reason why a man this gorgeous would even be applying to work here when he could easily make a fortune being a model is beyond you.

You're quick to correct the initial surprise on your face, hoping that the man you'll be interviewing didn't notice how struck by his beauty you were when he stepped in. And how could you even know that he did notice you had a reaction to him– and not because of any overtly obvious expression of attraction, but because he could hear the beating of your heart with his inhuman ears, its steady rhythm taking a sudden, erratic jump the very moment he first stepped through the door.

Nayeon is quick to close the door behind Hyunjin once he has stepped fully inside your office, leaving you in privacy for what will likely be the most difficult interview you have ever conducted– and not for the reasons you would've otherwise expected.

"Have a seat," you speak clearly, as if your heart wasn't stuttering just mere moments ago, motioning for Hyunjin to take one of the chairs sitting opposite of your desk. "Pleasure to meet you, Hyunjin," you say after he's taken a seat, politely holding out your hand to shake his.

"Likewise, ma'am. I'm grateful to be considered for this position," he responds with a smile so effortlessly charming that you have to once again remind yourself that this is a professional setting and you shouldn't be thinking about how handsome the potential new addition to your team is.

If you were a worse woman with lesser morals, you'd hire him on appearance alone– his flawless skin, plush, soft, almost inviting lips, and the little mole that sits daintily under his left eye are all positively bewitching to look at.

You collect yourself after a brief mental scolding, deciding to get straight into the most pertinent questions you have once he's settled in his seat, opting to waste no time in getting straight to the point. While this approach does make the interview more tense for the applicant, you find it best to go about it this way to make sure they're truly ready for the sort of discussions that will be expected of them should they get hired.

You don't expect perfection, but more accurately determination– if they can maintain a confident air about them under pressure, that's typically a good indicator to you they'll be a good fit for your team. Equally, you don't mind if they stumble over their words a few times throughout the course of the interview as long as they show the ability to bounce back from any slip ups.

Error is expected at some point, as we are all human– you just want to assess their ability to come back from a mistake when speaking, and to see if they are able to maintain their composure in situations that may not be the most ideal or comfortable.

The ease at which Hyunjin answers your questions has you convinced that he's perfect.

He speaks confidently, coming across as self-assured and charismatic, not at all stuttering or faltering when you ask him to speak candidly with his own words. You appreciate a well rehearsed answer of course, but you like to ascertain whether or not the person you're considering for the job is able to maintain confidence when not using an internal script or reciting their memorized resume.

Some struggle to do so, losing confidence in themselves the moment they are expected to go off the cuff, while others find it to be a trick question of sorts, as if you're baiting them to say a flaw that would place them out of consideration for the position they're applying for.

What you value most on your team is adaptability– it's okay to falter for a brief moment, as long as they are able to collect themselves quickly and continue where they left off. And Hyunjin's ability to do just that is utterly astounding.

He has an almost effortless sort of confidence and charisma about him; something unique and special that you don't often see, a state of being that isn't learned, but rather is innate to who he is. Even when he briefly pauses or lets out a small "hmm" as he thinks about his answer to your question, it never feels like he's struggling to find his answer– more accurately, it seems that he already knows what his answer is, and is just pondering on the best way to phrase it before speaking.

It seemed that even his unrehearsed, unfiltered answers were nearly perfect, his ability to speak leaving you almost in awe. Truly, in the year and a half it's been since you were promoted to head of human resources, you'd never conducted an interview where the person you were speaking to seemed this effortlessly natural and comfortable in what is otherwise a tense situation.

Honestly, you'd be a fool not to hire him right on the spot– his ability speaks for itself, and you're confident that any weaknesses he has can be corrected quickly and easily with more experience in the work environment.

So you congratulate him, smiling as you once again hold out your hand and welcome him as part of your team. And Hyunjin smiles too as he takes your hand in his, knowing that this is just the start of what is his grand plan to make you his.

In the months it’s been since you first hired Hyunjin, he’s come to learn so much more about you than he did just lingering around in your apartment, and with that has come an even deeper appreciation and desire to have you.

Your good nature, which he knew you had from little interactions at shops and cafes, was now able to be fully seen by him– from the way you cared about your team, treated them like equals despite the fact that you were their superior in rank, and how you encouraged and fostered true friendships between everyone on your team.

You held so much sincere care for everyone around you, and you lead with compassion and kindness at the forefront. If someone was sick, having an off day due to mental health, or simply felt the pressures of life weighing them down, you always met them with compassion. You encouraged them to get better, and never made them feel bad about themselves for any small slip ups that occurred while they were struggling with something.

Of course, in this line of work it’s vital that they show up always ready to do their utmost best and show others the best versions of themselves, but you weren’t some militant manager that expected people to always be at 100%.

It’s unrealistic, and hypocritical to expect perfection, so instead you always did your best to accommodate them when they were low, and that consideration resulted in your coworkers and employees having a great deal of respect for you; it was easy to see why your team always put in their best effort at work.

By extension, your care for your team resulted in equal care towards you, and it seemed they greatly missed you when you were absent due to your move. They had fine enough leadership while you were gone, sure, but it wasn’t the same without you– the one who made them feel comfortable, secure, and made them want to perform well at their jobs.

What Hyunjin felt watching you was something akin to pride– and it was strange, as he had never felt pride for someone else before. He hardly ever even felt it for himself.

He just liked seeing you succeed, if he had to guess; he liked knowing the woman he desired was not only beautiful in body but also in soul, just as he suspected her to be when he first came to put aside his anger and truly know her for who she is.

What a happy accident it was, that he happened to be gone when you finalized your move to suite 13; because otherwise how would he ever have known what it was like to care about someone other than himself? To understand what it is that makes a human God’s greatest creation?

He gets it now, he thinks– why God prioritized humanity, why he loves them despite how flawed and drenched with sin they are. And again, it occurs to Hyunjin how hypocritical he was before, and continues to be even now, how foolish it is for him, the very embodiment of sin, a being who is supposed to uphold depravity and ruin, to be infatuated with you, who is the very image of benevolence.

Hyunjin got to see so many new sides of you, sides that didn’t make themselves known within the 4 walls of your apartment, sides that made him fall for you more and more. A demon can’t experience love the way a human does, but he thinks this is the closest to love a creature like him will ever have.

Obsession, longing, desire.. Isn’t that all a manifestation of love? Perhaps one does not need a true heart and soul to experience what love is; maybe all that one really requires is feeling.

Most sins are a feeling- lust, pride, envy; all are an emotion you feel strongly within your gut, a natural reaction that cannot be prevented from pricking your skin or making your stomach twist. It’s innate, woven into the DNA of every creature with higher understanding.

With all that in mind, who is to say a demon can’t love? Maybe it won’t be felt in the same way a human feels it, but if love is a feeling, and sins are a feeling, then what truly prevents him from knowing love?

As equally as he learned about you and himself, he also learned about the man you had developed feelings for– Yunho. According to Nayeon, who was apparently a wealth of information when it came to the subject, you met Yunho in college and have been friends with him since. You grew quite close in your time studying the same major, and as fate would have it, you both ended up working for the same conglomerate after college.

While you ended up here, promoted to head of the department when the opening became available, Yunho worked for a different subsidiary within the same building; so while you technically worked for different companies, you shared the same CEO, and had ample opportunity to meet and talk during the company lunch hour and maintain the friendship you had in college.

Well, he imagines you would’ve still been friends with Yunho regardless of where the two of you ended up in life after graduation. But still continuing to see him daily certainly didn’t help you get over the college crush you had on the man.

And you had tried to move on– you’re not stupid, you know Yunho doesn’t feel the same way as you. But your relationships never worked out as you’d hoped, and you’d always be left at relationships end still battling your unrequited love for your best friend.

Though you are always professional, it was obvious, at least to the other women in the office, that you had deep feelings for Yunho. They could always tell in the way your face changed when he was near, displaying a timid smile that only ever showed up for him, the flush on your face subtle but recognizable to those who knew you well.

And by extension, it became increasingly obvious to the rest of the office that Hyunjin was down bad for you, and hated seeing you with Yunho. His face too always changed when Yunho arrived, would be positively seething with jealousy, always failing to mask the frown of disapproval when Yunho stepped into your office to talk and invite you out for lunch outside the building.

And Hyunjin went above and beyond to be a gentleman when it came to you– holding open doors for you when walking somewhere together, carrying stacks upon stacks of heavy paperwork so you wouldn’t have to do it, memorizing the way you liked your coffee so he could get it for you and you could focus instead on your work.

The only time Hyunjin ever wasn’t smiling, it was when you were giving your affection to Yunho. It was painfully obvious how bad he wanted you; if he was trying to keep his feelings a secret, well.. He failed spectacularly to do so at every turn.

Everyone in the office could tell how he felt, and while they would never admit it, most were just waiting for the day he’d ask you out, as it seemed to be more and more inevitable that he would. Some who had been your coworkers since long before you were even promoted, and knew of your unrequited feelings, hoped that Hyunjin could be the person to finally give you the happiness you deserve.

Even you yourself began to suspect that Hyunjin liked you as more than a friend or coworker, because why else would he go so out of his way for you? Why else would his face change whenever he saw Yunho?

You can still remember the way his smile dropped when Yunho stepped into the room when you were having lunch with your team, how Hyunjin subtly clenched his teeth and tightened his fists, how he’d practically glare at the man before replacing his expression with the most forced smile you’d ever seen him have for the sake of professionalism.

Were you being delusional? To say Hyunjin is fucking gorgeous is an understatement– he’s practically ethereal. And while you wanted to move on from your stupid school girl crush on Yunho that continued to grip you all these years later, wasn’t it too much to fantasize about Hyunjin being the person to finally make you happy?

He could have anyone, and you couldn’t understand why he’d want you of all people when he could easily bag someone more impressive than you. You did well for yourself, but you didn’t consider yourself particularly desirable..

Maybe years of unrequited love and failed relationships made your confidence tank more than you realized; at least when it came to love and romance.

And while there were other couples in the office, you worried it’d be unprofessional of you to date someone who you are technically the boss of.. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the power dynamic instead of worrying about whether or not you were desirable enough for Hyunjin to want you?

God, you really needed to get your priorities straight before you did something stupid; and certainly you were just reading too far into things. But still, while your feelings for Yunho didn’t go away, you still couldn’t deny that your heart would race whenever Hyunjin smiled at you, couldn’t ignore how goosebumps would erupt on your skin when his hand lingered on yours as he handed you a perfectly made cup of coffee, couldn’t help but linger on the the thought of what a perfect lover he must be.

As if sensing you were thinking of him, you hear a knock on your door, breaking you out of your thoughts and met with the sight of Hyunjin cracking open the door. “May I?” he asks, and you smile politely with a nod, motioning for him to enter your office.

“Hey Hyunjin, what’s up? Need something?” you ask and he shakes his head, sitting on the chair in front of you.

“Nothing work related, though I do want to ask you something,” he replies, and immediately your mind wanders to delusional territory again, though you quickly try to shut it down.

“What is it?” you ask, trying your best not to fill your brain with the thought of Hyunjin making a move on you. Be professional for God’s sake.

“I was wondering,” he starts, looking at you with that charming smile that is so natural to him, and that you always have to stop yourself from folding over at the sight of, “If you don’t have any prior obligations today, would you like to have lunch with me?”

Oh no. He’s adding fuel to your delusional fire. “Just us?” you ask, trying to mask your hope, or the way your heart is picking up speed. You really want to be chill about the invite, but you really can’t help but hope the invitation means something more. He’s perfect, how could you not? You’re only human, after all. Isn’t it natural to want someone this fucking beautiful to want you?

“Yes, just us. You don’t have to consider it a date, but.. I would be happy if you did,” he smiles, head tilting to the side in an almost playful display, and your heart jolts.

He’s not just playing with you, right? He wouldn’t, would he? But you have to ask, “You make it sound as if you want me to consider it a date. Are you saying you like me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, ma’am,” he replies without hesitation, confidence fully on display. It’s as if the possibility of you saying “no” has never crossed his mind. You’d probably be confident too if you looked anything like him; you don’t imagine he’s been rejected often.

And well, you certainly won’t be the person to hit him with his first rejection either; you’ll have to ask a third party to handle the necessary paperwork if things go well between you and Hyunjin, as the head of the department can’t approve and oversee her own consensual relationship agreement, but it’ll be worth it, you think.

After all, if someone this beautiful and seemingly perfect wants you, why deny yourself the opportunity? Even if it doesn’t work out, maybe he’ll be the person to finally help you get over your stupid crush on your best friend that’s been going nowhere for years.

Apart from his beauty, he’s always been chivalrous and attentive towards you, a true gentleman in every sense of the word. And even if it's only for a brief time, you think he can make you feel happy, desired, truly cared for.

You’re about to tell him you’d love to, when your door unexpectedly clicks open, your eyes moving past Hyunjin to see Yunho standing in the doorway. Hyunjin immediately scowls, having half a mind to rip him apart once the day is over, though he does his best to temper his aggravation.

He can’t let himself lose face in front of the one he loves after all; he’s not sure you’d still be up for a date with him if he displayed his jealous, possessive tendencies this early on (not that he did a very good job of hiding them to begin with.)

“Shit, sorry- am I interrupting a meeting?” Yunho asks, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes, turning his gaze back to you instead.

“No, nothing like that,” you answer, shifting your gaze back to Hyunjin, who for the first time looks concerned that you’ll turn him down. It’s subtle, but his eyes are softer, nearly pleading, though he tries his best to not display the desperation that lies underneath- the desperation for you to affirm that you like him too, that you want to go on a date with him, that you want to give him a chance.

“Oh, good,” Yunho sighs in relief; he knows that sometimes your work bleeds over into the lunch hour, and he'd have hated to interrupt something important. He glances at Hyunjin next, a slight frown forming on his face.

He’s never spoken to the guy, but Yunho would have to be blind to not notice that Hyunjin hates him for seemingly no reason. “Well, uh– I’ll let you get back to whatever talk you’re having. I’ll see you for lunch when it's over?” Yunho asks, and you can see Hyunjin swallow, hands tensing as he waits for your reply.

Please don’t reject me, his body practically screams, and you almost can’t believe that the confident Hyunjin you know is looking this nervous over potential rejection because of you.

“Thanks, but I’m actually having lunch with Hyunjin today. Maybe next time?” you answer, smiling at Hyunjin to reassure him that yes, you are going on a date. No, you won’t be picking Yunho over him, despite the history that lies there.

Relief instantly spreads through Hyunjin, and he returns your smile, his confidence returning in a blink, as if it’d never left in the first place.

“Oh,” Yunho blinks in surprise; that’s.. unexpected. You’ve never prioritized someone else over him before. Huh. He feels.. strange. Jealous..? No, that can’t be right. Why would he be jealous? Hyunjin stands, offering his hand to you, which you accept before you stand yourself.

“Are you ready, ma’am? I know this cafe you’ll just love, but we have to hurry if we wan’t to make it back before the hour is over,” Hyunjin smiles, turning away to face the door, and subsequently, an almost bewildered looking Yunho.

You miss the way Hyunjin shoots your best friend a smug, almost triumphant smirk; a smirk that says I’ve won, she’s mine. And even as Yunho watches the pair of you walk towards the elevator, hears you tell Hyunjin he can call you by your name when it’s “just the two of us,” suddenly he feels incredibly stupid.

Even as he’s left standing there, watching the elevator doors close with just the two of you inside, he can feel his gut twist as Hyunjin shoots him one last smirk, one that affirms something Yunho is just now realizing– there was a reason Hyunjin hated him. All this time, Yunho was a rival for love, and he just lost the race without ever having actually participated.

He scoffs, laughing at himself in near disbelief. What an idiot he’s been, and what a moment to realize it. He knew you had a crush on him, but what did he expect? That you’ll always be there, just waiting for the day he’d finally miraculously return your feelings after all these years?

Of course you’d move on eventually; and maybe Yunho didn’t want to admit he found your infatuation with him to be a comfortable ego boost, now hit with the epiphany that his newfound jealousy over the loss of your affection is ugly and twisted.

And truly, Hyunjin had him beat. Somehow, he knew that this was the end of your feelings for him. How ironic it is to lose due to his own complacency, his expectation that you’d always be there no matter what relationships you found yourselves in.

How arrogant and selfish he’d been, assured that no matter whom he slept with or pursued, you’d be there just waiting for the day he’d finally ask you out. But now Hyunjin has you, and he’s certain he’ll never let you go.

Dating Hwang Hyunjin is like a fairytale you thought only existed in the imaginations of young girls that had not yet experienced the disappointment of reality. You imagined he'd be a perfect lover, but you truly hadn't anticipated just how accurate your interpretation of him would end up being.

He took you on more dates than you could count on your fingers– to museums and exhibits, to restaurants you'd never find on your own with delicious menus. He took you on picnics with the scenic views of the city, of nature, or the setting sun, staying until stars hung in the sky and your only illumination was the vibrant moon shining on just the two of you.

You learned that he was a reader of classic literature, with an impressive knowledge of romantic poetry and novellas, often able to recite the most beautiful lines you'd ever heard straight from his own memory. When he took you to museums, you learned more from Hyunjin himself than the tour guide, and truly it seemed like he was an encyclopedia for all things creative, classic, and romantic in nature.

He was multilingual, which you knew from his resume, but to actually hear him recite something in latin with ease was something else entirely. It was if it came naturally to him, like it wasn't technically a dead language, and you almost couldn't believe it was just an extra class he took in college for fun.

He endlessly impressed you– with his beauty, his intelligence, his attentiveness, his.. everything, really. And he never let you feel inferior to him, always assured you how happy he was that you were his girlfriend beyond just taking you out on dates throughout the city.

He bought you many, many gifts– clothes that always fit you perfectly, that not only suited your tastes but that he thought you'd look beautiful in. Sweet treats, often your favorites but other times just slightly outside your usual comfort zone– just enough to get you to try something new to fall in love with the taste of.

Stuffed teddy bears or other cute animals meant to remind you of him, jewelry that was sometimes dainty and meant to be office appropriate (in which he'd have the brightest smile seeing you come into work wearing it) and other times lavish, extravagant pieces that somehow were always stunning without being tacky or garish.

If he brought you a necklace or bracelet before a date, he'd help you put it on, smiling when it fit you perfectly and complimented your skin tone, always touching you softly and showering you with compliments.

And while acts of service were clearly a huge love language of his, it wasn't like Hyunjin just showered you with gifts and fun dates and expected that to be enough (which would be valid if it was enough for some people, but you want more than that! You value emotional connection!) He always made time for you outside of the office or promised dates, coming to your apartment anytime you asked just to spend time with you.

He always listened to you so attentively, genuinely interested in things you liked, and listened to your input when it came to what to do for you next date. He listened to your thoughts and ideas, let you vent if you were having a hard day, hugged you sweetly if you needed reassurance or were feeling stressed.

He'd spend hours on the couch with you watching movies if that's what you wanted to do that day, and he always paid undivided attention to you or what you were doing together, never pulling out his phone or mentally checking out even once.

Everyday with Hyunjin feels like it's Valentine's Day– and honestly you can't even imagine what he'll do when an actual romantic holiday or your anniversary rolls around when he's already so perfect to you. Even months into your relationship he still holds open doors for you, still carries anything that seems even the slightest bit heavy, still dotes on you as if he still has to prove he's a gentleman (when you clearly already know he is.)

You honestly can't express enough how perfect Hyunjin is, and how much you appreciate the relationship you now have, but.. well, if you're being honest there is one problem. Nothing major, of course, just.. You think you're going to explode if he doesn't fuck you soon, or at least touch you somewhere less than polite.

The first time he kissed you was at the end of your third date; you were certain things were going well, felt those infamous sparks other people talk about- like every cell in your body was gunpowder and it had just been ignited. You became addicted to kissing him after that, always seeking out his plush, soft and perfect lips, even if it was just for a quick peck to satiate you until later.

You made out for the first time just under a month ago, and that spark turned into a full on blaze, hot and raging and dangerously close to burning out of control. You wanted him so bad, more than you ever imagined you'd want someone; it was almost sad to say your past relationships and attractions paled in comparison to how Hyunjin ignited your deeply hidden passionate side.

Still, Hyunjin hadn't touched you intimately yet, and while you suspected it's because he's a gentleman waiting for the right sign or explicit, worded permission, you were going crazy inside. You don't know if you even have it in you to make the first move, truthfully; you feel almost.. intimidated?

Whenever you think about it, your mind always travels to how effortlessly beautiful he is, and despite how much he shows you that he wants you as his girlfriend, you are admittedly still struggling with thoughts of your own desirability.

It almost makes you feel ashamed despite how natural a feeling it is. You know you should be confident, but it's not something that just comes to you just because you know objectively you're worthy; knowing it and feeling it are different things entirely.

You wish you could just pull it together with a snap of your fingers; like c'mon Y/N, you're a beautiful woman who holds an impressive leadership position, who graduated with high honors and has more than enough to show for it! Why wouldn't Hyunjin want you? You're a catch!

You sigh, setting down the knife you were using to cut the veggies for tonight's dinner with Hyunjin, closing your eyes to collect yourself for a moment. Isn't it a bit pathetic for you to be reduced to insecurity over past rejections and unrequited love when what you have now is such a fairytale?

You wish it'd just go away, so you can tell Hyunjin to fuck you until you're dumb and have no thoughts left in your head but his cock filling you up, but-

You jump slightly when you feel Hyunjin's arms wrap around you from behind, and he chuckles a bit, apologizing for startling you; you were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn't even notice him rise from the sofa when he heard you sigh and put down the knife.

"What's bothering you, my love?" he asks, his chest pressing firmly against your back as he kisses the top of your head, "You seem so tense tonight.. Is dinner giving you a hard time?"

Your heart always picks up when he uses that affectionate term for you; you're not sure if your relationship could already be classified as "love" when you've only been together a few months, but you love the way it sounds falling from his lips all the same. "No, it's not that.." you frown a bit, not melting into his embrace the way you usually do.

"Feeling stressed out again?" he inquired next, his hands moving up to your shoulders to feel for any tension and massage it away if it exists. You hum in confirmation, finally melting against his body when his hands rub soothing circles in your tender skin, just deep enough to relieve some of the built up tension without leaving you sore and achy.

"Stressed, and.." you pause a moment, biting your lip as you consider if you'll really continue and admit what it is you really need.

"And?" Hyunjin's voice comes out in a soft question, clearly wanting to know what it is you want to say but with no intention to force it out of you.

"S-Stressed, and.. frustrated." you finally acquiesce after a short-lived internal fight with your nerves. You're not even entirely sure he'll get the implication behind you saying it in the way you did, if he'll recognize your need for a physical touch beyond what you've felt with him so far but you hope he does, because you're not sure you're capable of just coming straight out and saying "please fuck me before I lose my mind."

Hyunjin is the next one to hum, his tone relaying understanding. Goosebumps erupt on your skin when he leans his head down to kiss your shoulder and neck, his hands traveling from your shoulder to rub down your arms.

"Why don't I finish dinner, hmm? Have you relax in the bath while I take care of everything," his voice is soft, almost a whisper, his hands finding your waist and rubbing carefully over the area before moving down to your hips.

"It'll be finished by the time you're done, we'll have a little wine," he continues, his lips now touching the shell of your ear, his voice reaching you directly, "And after that.. I'll take care of you. In any way you want me to."

A kiss pressed to your skin, a shiver running down your spine as you suck in a breath– he definitely got the message. His right hand reaches up to your face, fingers finding their place on your left cheek, guiding you to twist your face to meet his gaze from behind you.

He leans down to kiss you like this, one hand holding your face where he wants it and the other squeezing the meat of your hip. Hyunjin holds the kiss for several seconds, making sure it lingers and tingles on your skin when he pulls away, already expertly planting the seeds of desire and anticipation within your gut.

"How's that sound, lovely?" he asks and you blink for a moment, your brain already feeling like it's going to melt out of your ears from how eager and desperate for more intimacy you are.

You nod, almost dumbly, and he smiles, planting a quick peck to your forehead before he helps you prepare for a bath. He runs the water hot, wanting warmth to linger for as long as you'll need it to once you're settled and used to the temperature.

While he takes care of the bath, you spend your time picking out what you'll wear afterwards. You swallow as you rummage through your drawers, possibilities seemingly endless.

You've never been in a situation like this– a situation where you knew with absolute certainty that you'd be getting your pussy wet by the end. Your sexual encounters were never preplanned, not even with your past boyfriends.

It was always spur of the moment, especially since you were too college-then-career focused to spend time on dating apps looking for hookups. Honestly, it was kind of exhilarating; and suddenly you felt like you understood what the appeal of knowing you were going to get laid by the end of the night was.

And Hyunjin, well.. he promised himself he wouldn't fuck you until he was sure without a shadow of a doubt that you were head over heels in love with him and only him, because it was that kind of first time with you he was seeking.

But that didn't mean he couldn't have fun with you in the meantime, did it? And how could he say no when he could literally fucking taste the desperation on you? He'd be a good boyfriend to you, and give you whatever he could within his limits, because you're his perfect girl, and he'll always spoil you in any way he can.

After the tub is full, Hyunjin leaves the bathroom, smiling at you when he sees you standing in the hallway patiently, towel and a change of clothes in hand.

"Take your time, lovely," he pecks your head again as he passes by, ready to tackle finishing dinner while you soak in the tub. You texted him instructions just in case before you left your bedroom with your clothes and towel, so you're confident that it'll turn out well without your guidance– and besides, Hyunjin cooks well anyways; you're sure it'd turn out delicious even if he didn't follow your instructions.

Your soak in the tub is spent entirely on thoughts of Hyunjin's hands and lips on your body, wondering what he'll do and how. You wonder how much of the heat on your body is from the water, and how much is from your own mental images of him between your legs.

Thankfully, the water actually does manage to loosen up your tense muscles (despite your anticipation doing you no favors), and you do just as Hyunjin instructed; you take your time. Dinner won't be done any faster just because you hurry, after all, so why not soak and destress and indulge in your little fantasies?

You dry off thoroughly when you step out of the tub, pulling on your prettiest pair of white panties and a silky slip nightgown- a cream color with lace accents on the hems. You brought a cardigan too, just for warmth while you eat dinner, though you don't bother to button it up at all the way, leaving the upper most buttons undone so Hyunjin can have a clear view of your chest while you share dinner.

It's a bit bold of you to purposely display your cleavage, but what's the harm in enticing him further? You know he wants you as his partner, but seeming him want you physically too would be everything.

The nightgown is tight enough to hug your curves, which means it also clearly displays your stomach, but.. Well, Hyunjin isn't blind, you're certain he knows that the woman he's dating has a chubbier physique than other women in the office.

But he wanted you out of all of them, and he's spent so much time calling you beautiful and giving you the world, that you imagine he either likes bigger girls, or at the very least doesn't let weight dictate someone's appeal. So, you're not self conscious in the slightest– at least, not about that.

You still have nerves, but you think that's natural when you're dating, and plan to have sex with, someone attractive enough to have people falling at his feet for a chance to be with him.

When you step out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, Hyunjin is just finishing plating the food and is pouring the wine into two glasses he pulled out from your cabinets, already familiar with where you typically keep them.

"Feeling better?" he asks with a soft smile when he notices your presence, and you don't miss the way his eyes drop to your chest, a glint of something flashing in his eyes before he looks back to your face– desire for your body, you hope.

You sit across from each other at your dinner table, having the quietest dinner the two of you have ever shared– though the tension being built is far from uncomfortable. His eyes linger right where you wanted them to, tempting him, teasing him, and you're buzzing with anticipation, almost giddy whenever his eyes meet your again as he sips from his wine.

Your face is dusted pink all the way to your ears, but you'd blame it on the wine if he asked (though you suspect he'd know better than to believe that.) Hyunjin downs the last of his wine in one gulp when he's finished eating, and you do the same, wiping your mouth carefully with a napkin before you look at him again. He's standing now, gathering the dishes from the table and bringing them to the kitchen.

You follow, intending to help him wash and put them away, but he tuts at you. "Baby, you're supposed to be relaxing and letting me do the work! Go get comfortable and wait for me, hmm?" He instructs and you can't help but smile, doing as he instructs after you thank him, quickly making the trip to your bedroom.

However, the nerves hit you again once you're in your room, and you sit on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your hands as you think about what you should do next. Just lay down and get comfortable as you would if you were going to bed? Should you present yourself to him? Get into some enticing position he won't be able to resist? Stay right where you are now and let him lead you wherever he wants you?

You've never experienced so much build up before– you almost feel like the inexperienced girl you were in college again. God, you don't know what to do with yourself and you're definitely overthinking it– but you can't help it! Hyunjin is just so.. well, he's Hyunjin. And that alone is enough to send your nerves into overdrive as your mind races with the possibilities of what's to come.

You hear him chuckle softly when he's in the doorway, looking at you who is very clearly shy, twiddling your thumbs as you wait for him. It took everything in Hyunjin to not say "fuck this" over dinner and just take you on the table, the lust pouring off you enough to make him lose control if he was a lesser demon.

And now, he can hear the thumping of your heart louder than ever, can smell the arousal pooling in your underwear even more clearly than he could over your meal.

"Silly girl," he says with a near grin as he steps fully inside your room, meeting you right where you are at the edge of the bed, "Why didn't you get comfortable? Sweet thing, you're nervous, aren't you?"

He carefully nudges your legs so he can stand between them, and you swallow as you nod and look up at him, not sure how much more of the anticipation you can handle before you snap and just drag him to you in a fervor.

One of his hands comes to your cheek again, rubbing gentle, soothing circles with his thumb as he leans down to kiss you. He does it slowly, the combination of his soft lips and the taste of wine that still lingers on them making your stomach flip. It doesn't take long for him to introduce his tongue, in the same manner he always does– rubbing over your lips before pushing past them.

You're always left panting, lips stained red by the time he pulls away, and tonight his kisses leave you especially dizzy with need. "Take care of those buttons," he instructs in a near plea as his fingers ghost over your neck in their downward descent, "or I might just pop them off when I pull this off you." Your breath hitches, though you're not sure if it's more from the words or the feeling of his fingers lingering on your neck.

Hyunjin seems to notice that you like his fingers there, the way he notices everything when it comes to you, and he has to stop himself from smirking as he asks you about it. "My love- do you like being choked?"

You almost groan in embarrassment, not expecting him to have already noticed and asked about it. How are you so fucking transparent to him already? "I-I mean.. I'm curious. I've never done it, because.."

Well, it's probably best you don't get into an ex-boyfriend talk right when you finally have the possibility of Hyunjin fucking you into next week right in the palm of your hands.

"Uhm– it just never happened. But it looks nice. Really nice. I, uh– I think I'd like it," you say; certainly true, but without going into detail about how you always seemed to struggled to trust your boyfriends enough to release control and let them do it.

It's natural that giving control to someone else is hard for you; you've always been very independent, and your career puts you in a position where you are leading others, always in control of everything. But you like the idea of giving control to someone else in the bedroom, letting them take the lead and decide on how you'll receive the pleasure you crave– the real problem lied with finding someone you trust enough to truly let go with.

You think you can trust Hyunjin– he's been so, so perfect since the day you met him. You firmly believe he sees you for who you are beyond your physical attributes, that he values you beyond the superficial, and that he'd never hurt you (unless you asked him to, of course.)

Hyunjin naturally feels all this, can read every emotion that pours off of you– and the fact that you have trust that he'll treat you right positively elates him, knowing he’s one step closer to the love he craves so badly.

"We can try, see if you like it," he says, soft and careful, "and it doesn't have to be now. We can always wait until later." His fingers now rub over your neck purposefully, never wrapping around but simply familiarizing your skin with the feeling of them there.

"Either way, we won't start with that. We need to build up to it first, don't you agree?" he asks and you hum with a nod- building up to it certainly sounds better than jumping straight into unfamiliar territory.

Carefully, and slowly, he lowers himself to his knees, still between your legs, now making it so he's the one looking up at you. "Even if we try it and you decide you don't like it, I'm so happy you trust me," he says before he kisses you once more, all his passion and affection behind the soft touch of his lips. "Do you already know what to do if you don't like it?"

You nod again, having become well familiarized with different safe words and systems you can put in place in your research on the topic when you first found out you might be into the rougher side of intimacy. Hyunjin tuts his time, displeased by the fact that you nodded instead of verbally answering him. "I need you to tell me what you know."

He already knows how much you know of course; his look through your phone painted him a vivid picture of your sexual intrests– but you need to say it to him regardless. And despite the tone he used, his eyes are still soft, and you can tell he genuinely cares about your safety and comfort, aiding more in the trust you feel.

"Sorry, I– I know what to do. Uh, traffic lights..?" you suggest, preferring that over coming up with a random safeword that you may not even remember if the time comes to use it. Hyunjin smiles again, whispering a soft "that's good" to you before he kisses you again, making sure all your nerves melt away now that the key elements are established. This is supposed to be fun and enjoyable above all else– nothing else matters but that.

"Now, be a good girl and take care of those buttons like I asked you to, lovely," Hyunjin instructs in a gentle tone after he pulls away from your lips. With another shiver, you quickly do as you're told, fumbling with the buttons just slightly in your rush to get them all undone. You probably should've been more graceful about it- purposeful, maybe even sexy, but honestly you were acting before even fully considering how you'd appear.

With the buttons undone, Hyunjin pulls the cardigan down your shoulders, and you pull your arms out of the sleeves. You pay no attention to where it gets discarded, Hyunjin's lips back on your much too distracting to care about something so trivial.

"Gonna take care of you now," he whispers against your lips, his fingers coming to bottom of your nightgown, where the hem squeezes against your parted thighs, "use your words if I do something you don't like."

You tell him you will, and he smiles again, rewarding you with one last sweet kiss to your lips before his lips trail your neck instead, his hands pushing your nightgown up your thighs until your panties are completely exposed.

One thing Hyunjin is confident of from his time looking over your porn history, it's that you love biting– and while he's unsure if it's just a fantasy you have that has remained unfilled in reality, similar to choking, he's decided it's the first step he's going to take in gently finding your limit and what boundaries you want to set between fantasy and reality.

Carefully, after his kisses to your skin have become familiar, he presses his teeth to the sensitive skin, and you gasp before he even has the chance to actually bite down. To Hyunjin's absolute delight, you tilt your head to the side to expose more of your neck to him, giving him all the permission he needs to sink his teeth into your soft, unmarred skin. You let out an involuntary squeak at first, the unfamiliar sensation sending a pool of heat to your gut– the act always seemed so hot, and now you knew for sure you loved it.

It wasn't just the physical feeling of it you loved though– you loved the idea of your lover's marks remaining on your skin for days, leaving behind evidence that someone touched your body and brought you bliss. And while you'd certainly cover the marks with makeup for work, the knowledge that you and Hyunjin would share, that they are there just below the surface your concealer has created, would be exhilarating.

His hands leave your thighs, finding the straps of your nightgown and pulling them down, until your breasts are exposed for him to see. Pulling away from your neck, he admires you– the way your skin blooms with fresh bruises and impressions of his teeth, your nipples hard and begging to be played with, and your pretty white panties stained with arousal. You can see the lust in his eyes as he looks you over, and it makes you bite your lip in anticipation for what he'll do next.

"I've told you so many times you're beautiful, haven't I?" he asks as he takes your heavy breasts into his hands, though you can tell it's rhetorical– he's not expecting a real response from you. Instead, he continues to speak as his hands squeeze and thumbs rub over your nipples. "But I haven't told you how fucking sexy you are yet, isn't that right? You're so alluring, it drives me crazy sometimes. Did you know that?"

You can't help but let out a soft whine as you shake your head, completely clueless to the fact that you ever made him as crazy with need as he made you. You hoped you did plenty of times, but you really didn't know until now just how much he was holding back from having his hands all over you. His hands move to your hips next, fingers slipping into the band of your panties.

You lift your hips from the bed, letting Hyunjin pull the soaked fabric down your thighs and then your legs, tossing them quickly aside. You hold the bed for additional support as he spreads your thighs further apart, sucking in a nervous breath when he looks directly at your dripping heat.

The fact that he's on his knees for you is already enough to have your heart feeling like it's going to beat out of your chest, but when he starts planting sensual, open-mouthed kisses to your thighs, mixed with carefully placed bites, you're done for.

Your thighs twitch with each kiss, jolt with each bite, your nails digging into your bed sheets before he's even at where you want him most. And God, when he finally kisses your pussy, you feel so worked up that you could cum just from that simple stimulation alone. When his tongue meets you it feels like heaven, your head falling back and an almost embarrassingly loud moan tumbling from your lips.

Hyunjin starts licking you up slowly, almost teasingly, and you can't even complain; because even though you still want more, it's already so good. It's when he's done with his teasing and really gets going that you're left truly breathless– he pulls you closer to his face, to the point your ass is practically hanging off the bed, but he throws your legs over his shoulders, using his hands to hold you in place, right where he wants you against his mouth.

Your whole body is trembling from the pleasure, and this position makes it so that your hips can't move unless he lets them. Even as you unconsciously twist and jolt from the pleasure, you're always firmly in place, unable to escape his tongue even if you wanted to. You cum almost embarrassingly fast like this, barely able to warn Hyunjin you're close before you're crying out in absolute bliss, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You expect Hyunjin to set you down as you catch your breath, but that's the exact opposite of what happens; against all your expectations, he keeps going, his tongue sliding over and around your sensitive clit, drawing out your orgasm until the pleasure mixes with tingles of painful overstimulation. You stutter out a curse, loud whines and begs leaving you in a nearly unintelligible jumble– though you're not entirely sure if you're begging for him to stop or keep going.

His hands carefully move from your hips to squeeze the meat of your ass as he continues holding you where he wants you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the unrelenting onslaught of pleasure. You're certain you're going to receive a noise complaint from your neighbors, unable to control your volume as another, more intense orgasm rocks your body. The tears lingering in the corners of your eyes fall as you cum once again, and you can hear and feel Hyunjin groaning against you, evidently taking just as much pleasure in this as you are.

He's careful as he moves your trembling legs off his shoulders, helping you to fully rest your weight back on the bed. When he stands, he helps you get your head to the pillows before he's laying next to you, your sensitive body jolting once again when this time his fingers rub between your slick folds.

"How're you feeling, my love?" he asks, wanting to make sure he's not overwhelming you too much. You're definitely overwhelmed, but in the best way possible, and you stutter out a shaky "green," to which Hyunjin smiles.

"What a good, perfect girl you are," he praises you, pressing lingering kisses to tear-streaked cheeks, "My sweet thing, you're all for me, aren't you? A good girl just for me?"

You nod quickly, brain fuzzy with the desire to be anything he wants you to be. "'m a good girl, all for you Hyun, only you."

You have no idea how much those words affect him– and you're sure if your brain wasn't so foggy from the pleasure, you'd have noticed how he had to clench his teeth and take a breath to stop himself from pulling his cock out and fucking you into the mattress right that moment.

Patience, restraint, it's not the right time, he has to desperately remind himself.

Even as his fingers slide inside your heat and hug him tightly, he has to make a conscious effort not to lose himself in the thought of what you'd feel like hugging his cock instead. In all his years of lust, he's never been this close to losing control of himself; but fuck, he's never wanted someone as bad as he wants you, and you're so slick and warm and tight, it takes all he has to ignore the desperate throbbing of his cock.

Hyunjin finds your spot within seconds, and your eyes are rolling back, fists once again straining and tugging against the sheets. He adds a third finger when you seem ready for it, pumping at a steady pace before he's curling his fingers into your spot again. He's at your neck again now, his teeth making contact with your skin just as they had before while his fingers continue their motion between your legs.

When he bites this time, it feels different– rather than the dull pain and ache his teeth brought before, this feels more.. sharp? You let out a loud gasp as the sudden sharp feeling buries further into your neck, as if Hyunjin is a vampire digging his fangs into your skin.

Did he actually have fangs this whole time and you didn't notice..? No, that seems impossible- and honestly you feel too fucking good right now to even put much more thought into it. You're sure it just feels that way because now that he knows you're comfortable with the sting, he doesn't need to show anymore restraint when biting. He's simply putting more force into his bite now- that's all that makes sense.

He speeds up his fingers as his teeth sink further into your skin, his thumb firm on your clit, and it's enough to send you over the edge for a third time, your back arching off the bed as you let out a string of expletives and moans.

Fuck. When Hyunjin pulls away, he knows he fucked up, quickly retracting his fangs before you can notice them; two holes now distinctly left in your skin. Unlike the hickies, that's not something you can simply hide with makeup, and when you look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow you'll definitely have questions about how the fuck he managed to do that with dull, human teeth.

But when you look at him, absolutely blissed out and eyes hazy with pleasure, he decides that it's a problem for future Hyunjin; you're both already in the moment, and why ruin it now? He's still not quite done with you, after all; he's supposed to be relieving your stress like a good boyfriend. And what better way to relieve all your stress and tension than to make you cum again and again, until your body is as weak as jelly?

"Can you handle one more, lovely?" he asks, rubbing your cheek with his unoccupied hand. You lean into his touch, a soft smile on your face as you eagerly nod, ready to take all he wants to give you.

He returns the smile, planting a lingering kiss on your swollen, self-bitten lips, praising you once more. His hand trails down to your neck, fingers lingering on the surface while his other hand resumes its motion between your legs.

"Tell me how you feel, baby," Hyunjin instructs softly, and you look at him with glassy eyes, stuttering out your answer.

"Y-Yellow. Feels g-good, but 'm nervous," you say honestly and he coos and comforts you, assuring you he won't squeeze unless you want him too; for now, he'll just hold his hand in place, let you familiarize yourself with the pressure before you decide if you want anymore than that.

Soon enough your eyes are rolling back once more, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he drives you close to orgasm just as expertly as he did each time before, letting yourself go completely as you become familiar and comfortable with his hand on your neck. You're babbling almost incoherently about how good it feels, but there's one thing in your string of words that he hears loud and clear, and that's "more."

"Want me to squeeze, lovely?" he asks, wanting to make 100% sure that he's not mistaken, and you nod quickly, repeating the word "squeeze" with a soft, pleading voice, followed by a string of "please, please, please."

You don't have to beg for a single thing when it comes to Hyunjin, but fuck, does he love hearing it more than he's ever loved anything. And so he does as you ask, gently of course, since it's your first time experiencing it.

Your body immediately reacts, gushing and clenching hard around his fingers as your mouth hangs open in a silent wail of pleasure, your last orgasm of the night hitting you like a semi-truck. Hyunjin slides his fingers out of you, planting soft kisses to your heated, sweat laden skin as you come down from the high.

He steps away just for a moment to bring you some water, helping you sit up enough to drink it before you fall back against the bed, body limp, utterly spent and exhausted.

"Hyun.. what about you..?" you ask in a sleepy voice, and Hyunjin chuckles softly, patting the top of your head after he wipes the sweat from your brows. "I'm good, baby, this was all for you. Feeling better now?"

You hum with a soft smile, curling into him and closing your heavy eyes. Hyunjin does his best to fix your nightgown and clean you up, once again chuckling when you start to softly snore after he manages to get you under the blankets.

As a demon, he doesn't need to sleep, but he lies next to you anyways, wrapping his arms around you and smiling as you snore into his chest.

There's an anxiety that lingers in the back of his mind, the reality that come tomorrow you're going to see an abnormal mark on your neck and how he'll have to face what that means for your budding relationship.

Does he tell the truth? Would you even accept him if you knew? Humans hate and fear demons, and demons in turn aren't fond of humans, often the cause of a great multitude of their suffering.

Loving you was against everything he understood about himself, and in turn, loving him would be against what you understood about yourself. Hyunjin closes his eyes, and for the first time in centuries, he forces himself to take the sleep he doesn't need- because if this is where his relationship with you goes up in flames, then he wants the last good moment with you to be spent as human as he can possibly make it.

Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin is first to awake despite having fallen asleep after you. Even without the exhausting pleasure gauntlet he subjected your body to, he would’ve woken first regardless; as a being who doesn’t require sleep, he doesn’t stay in that state for nearly as long as a human does.

And even then it’s not a “true” sleep; it’s more like a meditative state, that surely did help give his mind and body rest, but was wholly unnecessary when it came to his ability to function.

Given that he’s already forced the state once tonight, it’d be almost impossible to do so again as it’s simply not in his biology to do so. And despite himself, he still wants to linger; so he closes his eyes again, and though sleep does not return to him, he stays that way– holding you close, listening to your deep, slow breaths, his fingers lazily and softly tracing over your skin.

The meditative state he’d been in for the last few, entirely too short hours did thankfully offer some much needed clarity to his racing mind. Hyunjin, grappling with the fact that he lost control of himself, carelessly (or maybe instinctively, unconsciously), bared his fangs to sink into your skin and mark you like a werewolf would his mate left him both ashamed and frightened for what would come next.

It’s far from Hyunjin’s proudest moment, and never before has he had to grapple with the possibility of losing something important to him. There’s part of him that still doesn’t even fully understand why you’re important to him.

He’s a demon for fuck’s sake– demons don’t fall in love with humans, they manipulate humans to fall in love with them. They destroy human’s lives for fun, they take and ruin and feed until their prey is left with nothing, and then they move on to the next person.

And Hyunjin knew he was different from a standard demon, not just in physiology and intelligence but also in the way he approached life, but it still baffled him to realize just how different he truly was.

He did the exact opposite of what other demons in the same position as him would have done; he could have charmed you for an easy fuck where you think you’re in love with despite the fact that he would've been a stranger, and it would’ve, ideally, been enough to satiate his need to have you.

He could’ve avoided spendings months getting to know you, he could’ve manipulated you to suit his whims from the moment he formally met you instead of spending all his time to foster a real connection. He could’ve lied through his teeth at every moment, and while he certainly did lie, it was only ever necessary lies; he never, not even once, lied about something he felt or thought.

Every glimpse into his personality, ideals, likes and dislikes were all genuine. He could’ve just given you thoughtless answers that he thought you’d want to hear, never injecting his real self into the dynamic, but he didn't.

For reasons he couldn’t understand, he wanted you to love him– he thought at first it was simply because of his preferences whilst feeding, but now he knows it's more than that.

For reasons he can't understand, he wants you to love him, and not for some idealized man he crafted to meet your every need and preference. He wants you to love him for who he actually is as a person.

But.. he isn’t really a person; not in the way you are. Still, he followed that notion, and at every moment he was genuine; every look, every touch, every date and every gift– they were sincere admissions of a love he truly felt and wanted you to share, his proverbial heart being worn on his sleeve.

It reached a point where lying to you ate away at him, but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. In what reality did it make sense for him to confess that he’s a demon and for you to be okay with it?

And his mistake has forced him to confront that difficult truth much sooner than he had hoped to, has given root to the fear of rejection, loss, and unrequited love– human emotions he never expected to feel, that he thought he was incapable of feeling in the first place.

All he can do is pray that when he tells you the truth about who he is, you don’t turn away and rebuke him. And how ironic it is for him to pray for something– to want something so badly that all he can do is plead to the higher power he’s supposed to be against to grant him this selfish wish he doesn’t want to let go of.

Hyunjin has come to understand in his time with you that the relationship between humans and demons is more complex and codependent on his end than he would’ve initially given credence to. Maybe all it took to spark that epiphany was meeting the right person.

And how foolish he is, to devote so much time and love to a being whose existence will only equate to a mere fraction of his own, who is fragile and weak and without lasting power.

Maybe if he’s lucky, when you are met with mortality your soul will find him in his domain in the second circle, where your sins will go unjudged and unpunished for as long as Hyunjin remains at the top, where your eternity of “atonement” can be spent with him, where he’ll regard you as a queen of equal standing.

Dark fades to light with the rising of the sun, and still he keeps his eyes closed, as if preventing them from opening would also prevent the reality that is fast approaching from coming to pass.

Eventually, when the sun is high in the sky and brightly illuminating your room through your open blinds, he feels you stir, cautiously opening his eyes to the sight of you trying to blink away the sleepy fatigue that still maintains a grip on your senses.

You offer him a soft, lazy smile as you wake further, clinging closer to him with a tight squeeze of your arms around his torso. How naturally you smile at him and hug him is both a soothing balm and cruel crutch that he knows will break the heart he isn’t even supposed to have when it is gone.

Thankfully, in your sleep-addled state you don’t recognize the looming dread that hangs over him, and he’s able to quickly shove it down to return your smile and plant a soft kiss to your face, reminding himself to enjoy his time with you while he still has it.

Pushing your hair out of your face as you wake up more, Hyunjin catches a glimpse at your neck, the speckled bruises and fading indents of his teeth becoming entirely visible. Well, all marks of his teeth were fading except for one– the two holes left behind from his fangs, the shameful evidence that he lost control of himself in a way he never had before.

Broken skin doesn’t mend in just a single night’s sleep, and he knew the moment you touched your neck or looked in the mirror you would know they were there and you would look at the mark, at him, with either fear, confusion, or disgust as you try to comprehend how his bite would cause such a thing.

“How’d you sleep, lovely?” Hyunjin decides to ask so his mind doesn’t dwell and linger on your neck.

“Good,” is all you say with a small, bashful smile, pink crawling over your features as you recall all Hyunjin did to and for you. Honestly, you can’t remember the last time you slept so deeply, and you don’t think you’ll ever forget that feeling of ultimate bliss as your eyes grew heavy and mind drifted off comfortably.

“You make me so happy,” you follow up, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a soft, good morning kiss. “Want to make you happy too,” you whisper against his lips before kissing them again, and his heart squeezes almost painfully in his chest because he feels it– lust, passion, desire, love.

What starts as a small prick to his senses builds to an all encompassing tsunami the more you kiss him and entangle your limbs with his. Love, love, I love you, your soul radiates.

It’s all he’s ever wanted, all this time it’s what he’s been working towards and hoping for, and it shoots almost painful electricity throughout his every nerve ending. Overwhelming, consuming, too radiant and bright and pure to belong to a man such as him, who isn’t really a “man” at all, but an entity entirely undeserving of your grace. Selfish, desperate, shameful– he holds you as if he is none of those things, as if he doesn’t taint you just by loving you.

You push Hyunjin so he’s flat on his back, rolling yourself on top of him, your hair tickling his skin as it falls over his face when you kiss him. His grip on your hips is tight, almost painfully so, but you welcome it.

He’s so fucking hungry for you, he craves you so, so bad, and you meet that hunger enthusiastically, your hands ghosting over his chest and down his stomach, making quick work of the shirt he slept in.

You suppose taking the lead comes naturally to you once shyness and subtle insecurity is dealt with, but you’d easily concede control to Hyunjin again should he have the desire to once again make you pliant beneath him.

Your hips roll down onto his hardening cock, and the groan that escapes him makes your stomach flutter with countless butterflies. He nips at your bottom lip with his teeth, sometimes tugging before soothing the bites with soft licks of his tongue.

The rest of your clothes come off in a blur– your nightgown practically ripped off of you by Hyunjin while you fumble with the tied knot of his sweatpants, both of you panting into each other’s mouths, every noise being muffled and swallowed.

Wrong, this is wrong, selfish, you’re wicked, deplorable, the back of Hyunjin’s mind screams at him in stark contrast to the way he desperately paws at you, lust and hunger casting a fog over his rationality.

But when he opens his eyes as you pull back for a breath, his eyes instinctively travel back to your neck, the mark he left on your skin expounding upon his building guilt. He has to tell you now- before the guilt eats away at him entirely, before he loses control of himself again, before he does something else he’ll regret.

An almost guttural pained noise leaves his throat when you roll yourself down on him again, fingers digging into the swell of your hips, his now bare cock becoming slick with your essence.

“Shit, fuck– wait, baby wait–” Hyunjin breathes out, the most ragged and strained you’ve ever heard his voice. He can feel your passion and desire become background to concern and doubt, can feel your anxiety spiking as you cease your movements.

Fuck, he feels so bad– but you have to know he’s not what you think he is, he won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t tell you now. “Listen, I–” Hyunjin starts, then swallows, and your eyes swim with care as you see him struggle, “I– your neck, its..”

“Hyun, I wanted you to do it, don’t worry about that,” you tell him sweetly and softly, one of your hands grabbing his and rubbing soothing circles on it with your thumb.

His heart squeezes painfully once again, and he shakes his head, “That’s not it, I– ..just feel it, or look at it, or..” You furrow your brows in confusion but do as he asks of you, trailing your fingers carefully over all the spots you knew he bit and sucked your skin.

You don’t feel much, at first– just a tender skin where you assume bruises have formed, some extremely faint indents of teeth, but as you get closer to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, you feel it and your entire body freezes.

What.. is that..? You scramble to grab your phone from the nightstand, turning on the camera and flipping its view to see yourself, blinking as you try to process what you’re seeing reflected in the viewfinder.

What the fuck? Slowly, in disbelief as your mind lags and struggles to compute with the reality of what you’ve seen, you lower your arm and let your phone fall from your hand. Are you dreaming?

You feel like you’ve been transported to one of those YA vampire romances you read in college for fun– but that’s impossible, isn’t it? Things like that aren’t real, are they? There’s no way you’ve been dating a supernatural being for months.

Your next thought is that this is an ill-timed prank, though you can rationally tell it isn’t. And Hyunjin’s hand that is still in yours.. You can feel it tremble with uncertainty and apprehension, his eyes relaying a deep seated fear of rejection and.. Guilt? Guilt for what? Do you even want to know the answer to that question? You assume it’s related to whatever this is, whatever he is, but.. what is that, exactly?

Hesitantly, you ask him, wondering if this is really your teen fantasy Twilight moment– stark naked, sitting on the dick of a man who might not actually be “a man” at all. “You may not believe me if I tell you, but I can show you,” he says quietly whilst cautiously squeezing your hand.

“O-Okay.. sure,” you breathe out nervously, squeezing his hand back in support. Maybe this is a mistake, but seeing the utter anxiety he’s struggling with, you can’t help but empathize.

If the roles were reversed, and you were an otherworldly being in a relationship with a human, would you be able to tell them? Wouldn’t you be scared of losing them if they knew the truth? And maybe you shouldn’t forgive him easily, regardless of what the truth ends up being, but you think you can understand what would drive him to keep such a deep secret.

You’re still fucking scared of whatever it is, if you’re being honest, but you don’t want to believe that the Hyunjin you know is anything but the sweet, perfect, gentle boyfriend you’ve known him as thus far.

All you do is blink and instantly the Hyunjin before you is different, as if a veil that was covering your eyes has been lifted to reveal his truest self. His facial features and hair are the same, recognizably Hyunjin through and through, but his skin has changed from a natural, honeyed tone to a deep, scarlet red hue. His eyes, in turn, are no longer a dark, boba-like brown, but instead an unnatural crimson.

Long, pointed ears like an elf you’d see in a fantasy game or movie, horns the same color as his skin protruding from the top of his head, curving gently until they point straight up. You can just barely see the points of his fangs between his parted lips, can see bat-like wings struggling to fit beneath him on the bed, as well a long, slender tail with an upside down heart as its tip.

And his body, which was already warm, now feels almost impossibly hot, as if he has a dangerous fever coursing through him, with his nails now more like claws in their length and pointed edge.

He’s.. still so beautiful..? You weren’t sure what kind of change you were expecting, and you still don’t entirely understand what he is, but he’s undeniably just as gorgeous now as when he was presenting himself as human. His form is reminiscent of the beauty found in the work of Gustave Doré, whose art Hyunjin had once praised and talked at length about; ethereal, otherworldly, mesmerizing–

Wait. Something clicks– the rumors of your apartment being haunted by a demonic entity before you moved in that you disregarded and didn’t believe in. The times you’d wake up from sleep and notice something had been moved, always slightly off from how you’d left it.

The presence you’d sometimes feel despite being alone, the sensation of being watched that sometimes lingered, but always seemed to go away when Hyunjin was at your apartment. His extensive knowledge of art and history that felt as if he lived through the era rather than just having read about it, his fluency in latin that goes beyond mere college study..

You’re in love with a demon. And you suspect that he’s known you for longer than you’ve known him.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to lie to you,” Hyunjin breathes nervously after he sees understanding flash in your eyes as you put the pieces of his identity together. “I just, I.. became so utterly, impossibly infatuated by you. But I couldn’t just.. show myself, even if I wanted to. And I– I wanted you to know me, because I love you more than I ever thought was possible for someone like me.”

It’s hard to say whether or not you’ve been manipulated and misled to trust him, but you do, even if you shouldn’t. You’ll have to hope that God will forgive you for the sacrilege you’re about to commit.

Squeezing his hand in a display of acceptance, leaning down to kiss him once more in a promise of love regardless of the truth you’ve been shown, dedication to an act entirely unholy.

But if Hyunjin is what will be waiting for you in hell when you die, maybe damning your soul there isn’t so bad.

You feel him positively melt with relief, soft apologies from him and acceptances from you rolling off the tongue. “Promise me this is the only lie, promise this is the only secret, and I’ll forgive you,” you breathe and he affirms without hesitation, enduring promises of true love and honesty pouring from his lips.

“We can even make it a pact if you want,” he says after a string of promises, and you shake your head with a slight smile.

If what you’re led to believe from media is true, if Hyunjin made a pact with you in which his end of the deal is to never lie to you, he’d suffer grave consequences for breaking it. “I’m choosing to trust you without that, so don’t break it, okay?”

Hyunjin nods with a smile before you’re kissing once more, his arms wrapping around you and hugging you tight to his impossibly hot skin.

When your tongue enters his mouth, you curiously explore the point and feel of his fangs, and when he nips at your lips, the sharp point very nearly draws blood with each bite, the subtle pain utterly intoxicating. It’s not long before your lips end up swollen and bitten red, your tongues continuing to swirl and move together, your hands fervent in their exploration and demand to feel.

Soon enough, he’s flipping your positions, your back now against the mattress with Hyunjin pushing himself between your legs, his mouth trailing gently over the marks he left the previous night. He sucks over the skin once more, deepening the bruises he’s already left behind, brightening them in color. It aches, and yet you tilt your head to the side to make his task easier, feeling him smile against your skin as his fangs poke at your sensitive skin.

He doesn’t bite down, not like he did last night– he doesn’t want to hurt you too much. Instead, his teeth scrape and taunt, the feeling of them enough to have you whining even without the bite. When he pulls away to look at you, your eyes are already pleasantly glazing over in a lustful haze, and seeing his fangs when he smiles confidently down at you makes you dizzy. He’s so fucking beautiful, sexy- it’s going to drive you crazy one of these days.

You jump slightly in surprise when you feel his tail slinking up your leg, wrapping around and hugging your thigh. And it’s when you look down to see how his tail looks wrapped around you that you finally catch a glimpse of his impossibly hard and leaking cock, so unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

It’s big– much bigger than you imagine a human could ever compare, and just as deep and supernaturally red as the rest of him. You’re practically drooling at the sight, at the thought of having it in your mouth– would he taste the same as a human, or would his essence be entirely unique?

Hyunjin has to hesitate from smirking when he sees you blatantly staring and curiously, hungrily licking your lips, the increased lust from seeing his cock spilling from you in droves. “You want a taste, lovely?” he asks with a charismatic, almost mischievous tilt of the head, his grin growing when you nod eagerly.

“C’mon then, love, ‘s all yours,” he says while uncurling his tail from around your thigh, standing up and letting you come meet him at the edge of the bed. You tentatively reach out to touch his cock, and fuck, it’s so heavy in your hands.

Your hands look so small wrapped around him, your fingers unable to wrap entirely around his girth, and while usually both your hands are enough to cover the entire length of a cock up to its tip, Hyunjin still has much more than just the tip poking through.

Long, thick, big, you’re not sure how it’ll fit in your mouth, much less your pussy– but you’re not a quitter. You start with kisses that turn into kitten licks as you rub up and down his length with both hands, looking up at Hyunjin through your lashes, eager for a reaction, for praise.

He brings a hand to the back of your head, waiting for you to open your mouth for him. He carefully guides and urges you to take more and more of him in, until the tip is touching the back of your throat. It takes everything in you not to gag and choke, your eyes brimming with tears as you breathe through your nose.

“That’s it, what a good girl, taking so much of me,” Hyunjin pets your head as he praises you, and he can see you pressing your thighs together, squirming and desperate to hear more. You want to take all of him in your mouth, but you recognize that’s an impossibility- so you settle for pumping what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hands, doing your best to match the pace of your hands with the bobbing of your head.

Hyunjin’s soft, breathy moans fuel you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he begins to take control of the rhythm. You let out a squeak of surprise when you feel his tail snake between your legs, gasping when you feel the tip of his tail teasing your clit.

“‘s good? You like that?” Hyunjin asks when you moan around his cock, another smirk gracing his beautiful, perfect face when you quickly nod.

The combination of his cock down your throat and his tail rubbing your clit makes you dizzy, the pace of your hands faltering as your thighs twitch and tremble. Eventually, your hands drop to your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you let him play with your clit and use your mouth, tears falling as he holds your head while rolling his hips and making you take as much as you can handle.

Determined now to make you cum while his cock is deep in your throat, he moves one of his hands to your chest, tweaking and pulling at one of your nipples, earning a muffled whine as your eyes squeeze shut.

Your hands, no longer curled into desperate fists, now cling to his thighs, your nails digging into his skin as you cry and whimper. Hyunjin is relentless on all fronts– from the pace he fucks your mouth, to the flicking of his tail against your clit, to the way he pinches and tugs on your nipples.

“Gonna cum just like this, aren’t you, lovely? Go ahead baby, let go and show me how good you feel.” With Hyunjin’s permission, and a few more quick flicks of his tail against your clit, you’re cumming with a loud, but muffled cry, your nails failing to break the skin of his thighs despite how harsh you claw at him.

You suck in a deep breath when he pulls out of your mouth, your chest heaving as you come down from your high and air returns to your lungs. Hyunjin showers you in more praise as he wipes the tears away from your eyes with his thumbs, subsequently leaving a lingering trail of kisses to your cheeks where they streaked your skin.

He guides you to lay back down on the bed, planting sweet kisses to your lips once you’ve finished catching your breath. You can feel his cock, wet and still impossibly heavy, between your legs, and you want it in you now.

“Hyun,” you start, a pout gracing your lips as you prepare yourself to shamelessly beg, “want you so bad, please, please, fuck me, I need it.”

You can feel his cock unceremoniously twitch at your pleas, a groan leaving his throat at your desperate tone. “You don’t have to beg, my love, I’ll give you anything you want,” Hyunjin says as he rubs his fingers between your folds, feeling how slick you’ve gotten for him.

Truthfully, he should prep you more first, but you’re both so fucking needy for each other, and he’ll just have to hope that fingering you last night and making you cum again since then will be good enough.

He kisses you and lets you squeeze his hand as he pushes inside, the stretch so much more intense than anything you’ve ever felt, so full that your eyes are rolling back before he’s even thrusting his hips.

It aches, it stings, but it’s also the most addictive pleasure you’ve ever experienced. You want all he has to give you, more and more, until you can feel and think of nothing but him.

Hyunjin holds one of your legs, his tail once again wrapping around the thigh of the other, this time using it to keep you spread and open for him, allowing him to sink as deep as he possibly can. “Fuck, baby–” Hyunjin groans once he’s sheathed fully inside, your walls so wet and hot and squeezing him impossibly tight, “needed this, needed you so fucking bad, you have no idea.”

“You too, needed you too Hyun, so bad,” you mirror his sentiment between gaspy moans and shaky whines when he finally starts pulling out, pushing back in one swift and fluid motion, building a quick, desperate pace. Despite the desperation however, his pace is far from sloppy– every thrust is precise, leaving you arching your back as your cries grow in volume, your nails digging harshly into his forearms.

When he knows you can handle it, he fucks into your faster, capturing your mouth in messy, open kisses, your saliva mixing and pooling until it drips from the corners of your mouth. His grip on your thigh tightens, his fingers sure to leave bruises behind in their wake.

Sweat drips from his brow, sometimes falling to your cheeks, and God, the sight is utterly mesmerizing– even as sweat drips down his face and sticks his hair to his forehead, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

And again he feels it, the utter love and trust pouring forth from your soul, radiant and perhaps undeserving to be felt by him, but it exists all for him nonetheless. His head drops to your shoulder, every emotion that he feels spilling from you driving him further and further into bliss, his pleasured moans dancing in your ears.

“Tell me, please, fuck, please tell me–” Hyunjin practically whines, his nails now digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucks you harder. Tell him? Tell him what? Somehow, you think you know what he wants to hear, because it’s the very same thing that you want to hear too.

“Love you, I love you, lov– fuck, love you so much,” you breathlessly spill the words between moans, and you hear Hyunjin keen, pleasure erupting from every nerve ending, the wave of love that you exude enough to drown him completely.

“Lovely, my love, I love you, I’m gonna– fuck, ‘m gonna cum, tell me again,” Hyunjin pleads, desperate and urgent, his cock throbbing and twitching as he approaches his own high.

You do just as he asks, stuttering out endless “I love you”s until you’re both cumming hard, a blissful intensity that steals your breaths away and leaves your bodies shaking. His cum shoots inside you in long spurts, filling you to the brim, so much so that it spills out of you even with his cock still firmly pressed inside you.

“Mine,” Hyunjin mutters as he kisses you, passionate and deep, no longer sloppy and desperate as it was in the throes of his orgasm, “my love, just mine, aren’t you?”

“Just yours, all yours,” you say, and he knows you’re telling the truth, can feel it with every fiber of his being that you mean it sincerely. It was surreal, realizing the truth about your boyfriend and loving him regardless of who he is and how he truly appears, but you don’t regret it.

He cleans you up diligently, he helps you get dressed and makes you breakfast, he showers you in kisses and endless praise just as he always does throughout the rest of your day.

Because even though he may appear different to you now, he’s still the same Hyunjin you met; the one who dotes on you endlessly, who takes care of you sweetly, who spends hours talking and cuddling and listening to every thought you have.

Though you can’t explicitly read emotion the way he can, you always know what he’s thinking and feeling– because with you he’s transparent, with nothing to hide, and only love and tenderness to give.

Maybe it’s wrong for a human and demon to be in love, but you like to think this is the happiness you were meant to have, that this is where you’re supposed to be– right by Hyunjin’s side, until your final breath and then in eternity, a love that transcends your human mortality.

If there is one thing you are certain of, it is that spending forever with Hyunjin will bring you a love you’ll feel eternally– warm, gentle, and true.

#skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #hyunjin smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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reidmarieprentiss · 2 months ago

Text

Say Don't Go

Summary: You are given the opportunity of a lifetime, Spencer urges you to take it. Even if it means leaving him behind.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, typical BAU crime, mentions of drugging/kidnapping/robbery, brief alcohol consumption by reader and friends, clubs, break up(?), talks of marriage, forced choices/decisions, happy ending !

Word count: 15k

a/n: so what if this pulls inspiration from the train scene in glee... SO WHAT ... and so what if i named a character after kurt

main masterlist

December 2008 – Present

"You’ve been with so many women you don’t remember their names?" Spencer asked, laughing at Derek.

"Are you surprised?" Emily snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"This has never happened to me before," Derek defended, sounding genuinely incredulous.

"It’s never happened to me before either," Spencer chimed in, grinning as he started toward the conference room.

"It can’t happen to you—you have an eidetic memory," Emily teased, her smirk unmistakable.

"Plus, you only have one name to remember," Derek added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ha ha," Spencer replied, forcing a laugh, though the words cut deeper than he let on. Derek wasn’t wrong.

He only had one name to remember. One that mattered above all the others.

But Spencer had messed it up. He had let you get on that train. He had let you walk away.

Spencer's regrets weren't always loud or obvious; they often whispered to him in the quiet moments of his everyday life, weaving their way into his thoughts like unwelcome visitors he couldn’t shake.

It was in the mornings, when he brewed a pot of coffee in his lonely apartment, and his hand hovered over the second mug he used to pour for you. He’d catch himself mid-motion, the pang of realization that you weren’t there cutting through him like a knife. He’d take his coffee black, staring at the empty chair across from him, and wonder if you were having your morning cup too—if you still took it with two sugars and a splash of cream.

At work, it was the little things that brought you to mind. A joke Derek would make, or the way Emily tilted her head while teasing him, reminded Spencer of how you used to laugh with him, soft and genuine. He could still hear your voice in the back of his mind, offering your take on a case or pointing out something he’d missed. Those moments were the hardest—because they reminded him of how much better everything had been when you were there to share it with him.

And then there were the books. Spencer couldn’t walk into his favorite bookstore without being overwhelmed by the memory of browsing the aisles with you, debating over which novel to pick for your next "couples read." Now, those shelves felt empty, even when they were fully stocked. He’d run his fingers over the spines, pausing at titles he knew you would’ve loved, but he never brought himself to buy them. What was the point if you weren’t there to read them with him?

Evenings were the worst. After a long day at the BAU, when he returned to his dim apartment, the silence was deafening. He’d sit at his desk, pulling out old case files to distract himself, but his eyes would always drift to the small keepsake box he kept on the shelf. Inside were the remnants of your time together—a movie ticket stub, a pressed flower from a date, a Polaroid of you laughing at something he’d said. He’d told himself he’d put it away to move on, but instead, it became a shrine to his mistakes, one he visited more often than he’d like to admit.

And then there were the nights when the ache became unbearable, when he’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the image of you boarding that train. He could still hear the sound of the wheels on the tracks, still see the tear-streaked expression on your face when you looked at him through the window. Those nights, he’d wonder what he’d say to you if he had another chance—what he’d do differently if he could go back.

The regret wasn’t just a feeling; it was a constant presence in his life. It was the realization that, in trying to give you what he thought you needed, he’d taken away the one thing he needed most: you.

—

June 2008

“Spencer?” you asked cautiously, looking over at your boyfriend as his car came to a stop in front of the train station.

You could see him take a deep, trembling breath, the shakiness audible even as he tried to steady himself.

When he turned to face you, his eyes were already brimming with tears, spilling over before he could even speak.

“You said we were going to dinner,” you reminded him, your throat tightening as dread began to settle in your chest. You were trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, clinging to the hope that you were wrong.

Spencer cleared his throat, but it didn’t stop his voice from breaking as he said, “No.” He shook his head, and the weight of his next words seemed to crush him as he continued, “You’re going to New York.”

“What?” Your voice shot up as you stared at him in disbelief, as if he had grown another head. “What do you mean? I turned Aubrey down.”

“I know,” Spencer sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I can’t let you throw your dreams away for me.”

“My dreams?” you repeated, your voice rising in anger and heartbreak. “Spencer, you are my dream. I love you!”

“I love you too,” he choked out through his tears, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”

“But—” you tried, your hands reaching for his as if grounding him could change his mind.

“No, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, though the pain in it was unmistakable. “I—I called Aubrey. She still wants you. I told her you accepted the position. That you’re coming.”

“Why?” you cried, the single word breaking into a sob. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you searched his face, desperate for an answer that would make this make sense.

Spencer’s lips quivered, and he looked away, unable to face the devastation in your eyes. "Because you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lump in his throat.

"But I already have everything I want!" you shouted, your hands gripping the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you. "You’re all I need, Spencer. You’re it for me!"

He let out a shuddering breath, his tears falling freely now as his hands reached up to cover yours. For a moment, you thought he might give in, that he might change his mind. But then he shook his head again, his expression resolute despite the anguish etched into every line of his face.

"You’ll resent me one day," he said, his voice cracking. "You’ll look back and wonder what you could’ve done, what you could’ve been if you hadn’t stayed for me. I can’t live with that. I can’t live knowing I held you back."

"That’s not fair!" you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of your sobs. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me! I chose you, Spencer. I chose us!"

"I know," he whispered, his hands tightening over yours as if trying to memorize the feeling. "And that’s why I have to do this. Because I love you too much to let you give up your future for me."

"My future is with you!" you insisted, but he was already pulling your hands away from his face, gently but firmly.

"I called Aubrey," he repeated, his voice hollow. "She’ll be waiting for you at the station in New York. Your ticket is already bought. Your bags… they’re in the trunk."

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. "You… you packed my things?"

Spencer nodded, his expression breaking entirely under the weight of your hurt. "I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t."

"You had no right!" you shouted, shoving at his chest. "No right, Spencer!"

He took it, letting you pound against him until your strength gave out, until your sobs consumed you, leaving you trembling and broken in his arms. "I’m sorry," he murmured over and over, pressing his lips to your hair. "I’m so sorry."

But he wasn’t sorry enough to stop you from going.

As the train whistle sounded in the distance, Spencer gently pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "You have to go," he said softly, his voice thick with tears. "The train won’t wait."

"I hate you," you whispered, the words cutting him deeper than anything else ever could.

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible as he let his hands drop to his lap. "But one day… I hope you’ll understand."

He opened the car door for you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at him with tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with the weight of everything unsaid.

Finally, you whispered, "Goodbye, Spencer," your voice trembling as you stepped out of the car.

He didn’t respond, didn’t say anything as he watched you walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to his heart.

And when the train finally began to pull out of the station, Spencer felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The reality of what he’d done crashed into him like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his legs were moving, carrying him toward the train. "No," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky and panicked. "What have I done?"

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran alongside the train, desperate, tears streaming down his face. He called your name, his voice breaking, though he wasn’t sure if you could even hear him through the thick glass and the noise of the train.

Inside the train car, you were curled into the seat, staring blankly out the window, your face streaked with tears. You weren’t expecting to see him. But then, there he was—running alongside the train, his expression frantic, his lips forming words you couldn’t quite hear.

Your heart shattered all over again. The sight of him, so desperate, so raw, made it even harder to leave. Your hand instinctively pressed against the cold glass, a futile attempt to reach for him.

Spencer’s legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he kept running, the distance between him and the train growing with every passing second. His vision blurred from the tears, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

But you… you couldn’t bear to watch. Your tears fell harder as you pulled your hand away from the window and turned your head, unable to keep looking at him. You had to look away, even though it felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Spencer stumbled, slowing as the train picked up speed, his legs finally giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air, watching helplessly as the train—and you—disappeared into the horizon.

He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. "What have I done?" he whispered to no one, the words echoing into the empty night.

You were gone. And Spencer knew, deep down, that he’d just made the worst mistake of his life.

—

September 2008

You loved your new life. How could you not? You had everything you had once dreamed of—your new position as second in command to the CEO of your favorite designer brand was everything you’d worked so hard for. The thrill of overseeing campaigns, approving designs, and brushing shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry was exhilarating.

You’d settled into your new routine as well as anyone could when starting fresh in a bustling city like New York. Moving in with Aubrey Wilkes, the CEO herself, was daunting at first, but she made it easier. Her mentorship was invaluable, and her sharp wit and genuine kindness turned her into a friend as much as a boss.

Your days were filled with meetings in glass-walled boardrooms, late nights spent poring over designs and strategies, and the occasional glamorous event that kept your calendar full. You had the life you always said you wanted.

And yet...

Every single day, Spencer found his way into your thoughts.

It wasn’t always obvious at first. Maybe it was a book you saw in a shop window that reminded you of one of his recommendations, or a classical piece playing softly in a café that you knew he loved. Sometimes it was the sound of someone’s laugh that carried the same rhythm as his, or the sight of a man at the train station holding a bouquet of daisies like the ones he used to bring you.

Other times, it was the silence that brought him back. At the end of a long day, when you’d kick off your heels and collapse onto your couch, you’d find yourself wishing you could tell him about your wins and your struggles. You’d wonder how he’d react to the stories you had to tell, imagining his soft smile or the way his hands would flutter nervously when he was excited for you.

There were nights when it hit harder—when the city lights felt too bright and the penthouse apartment too cold. On those nights, you’d curl up in bed and stare out at the skyline, wondering if Spencer ever thought about you, too. If he regretted what he’d done. If he missed you as much as you missed him.

Because no matter how perfect your new life seemed on paper, a part of you still felt like it was missing. And that part had a name. Spencer Reid.

—

February 2007

It was a crisp evening as the warm glow of the restaurant's candles reflected off the polished surfaces, casting a cozy light over the two of you. Spencer had chosen this place because it was where you first met, a sentimental touch to the holiday of love that made your heart swell. The quiet buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses provided a soothing backdrop as you both enjoyed your meal, the comfort of each other's presence making the night feel perfect.

You were mid-laugh at something Spencer had said when a woman approached your table, her eyes wide with admiration. "I’m so sorry to bother you," she began, her voice apologetic but earnest. "But that is the most fabulous dress I have ever seen. Can I ask where you got it?"

Caught off guard, you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced down at the material that clung to your body in all the right places. You smoothed your hand over the fabric, feeling both flattered and shy under the woman’s praise.

Spencer, noticing your blush, smirked proudly from across the table. His hand reached out instinctively, wrapping around yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch grounded you, reminding you that he was there, always your biggest supporter.

"I–um," you stammered, your voice soft as you tried to find the words. "I made it."

The woman’s face lit up with genuine astonishment. "You made it?" she repeated, her tone filled with awe. "That’s incredible. You have such talent."

Spencer’s smirk deepened into a full-blown grin as he interjected, his voice laced with pride. "She’s amazing, isn’t she? I keep telling her she could make a career out of this, but she’s too modest to listen."

"Spencer," you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes at him as your blush deepened.

The woman smiled warmly at the exchange, clearly charmed by the both of you. "Well, if you ever decide to give your talents to the world, give me a call." With a quick admiring glance at your dress one last time, she handed you a business card before turning to rejoin her party, leaving you and Spencer alone once again.

You stared at the card in your hand, the golden lettering catching the soft glow of the restaurant’s lights. Your heart nearly stopped as you read the name printed at the top—Aubrey Wilkes.

Your favorite designer.

The logo you’d admired countless times on magazine covers and in shop windows felt surreal in your grasp. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the weight of the opportunity this might represent sinking in.

Spencer noticed the stunned look on your face and tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone soft yet concerned.

You slowly turned the card toward him, your hand trembling slightly. "It’s… her," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer leaned closer, his eyes scanning the card before widening in recognition. His lips curled into a delighted smile, the kind that lit up his whole face. "Aubrey Wilkes?" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his tone. "Y/N, do you know what this means?"

"I…" you began, but words failed you. It felt too big, too unexpected to process.

"It means you’re amazing," Spencer continued, his voice steady as he reached across the table to take your free hand. "And now someone else sees it too."

You looked back at Spencer, who was still holding your hand, his thumb now tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. "I told you people would notice," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "You’re incredible, and you should let the world see it."

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Spencer," you whispered.

"Always," he replied, his expression filled with a quiet devotion that made your heart flutter.

The moment lingered between you, the restaurant and its patrons fading into the background as the two of you shared a look that said more than words ever could.

—

April 2007

"Spencer, I’m not going," you sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your chest as you leaned back in your chair. His persistence, while well-meaning, was starting to wear on you.

"Y/N," he began, his tone both patient and pleading, "this isn’t just some casual opportunity. This is Aubrey Wilkes. She gave you her card. She wants to see what you can do. Do you even know how rare that is?"

You folded your arms across your chest, avoiding his gaze. "I know exactly how rare it is, Spencer. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to New York."

Spencer leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if physically holding himself back from pressing harder. "Why not?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with frustration but also genuine concern. "Is it fear? Because I know you, Y/N. You can do this. You’re more than talented enough."

"It’s not fear," you shot back, though your voice faltered just enough for him to notice. You stared at the floor, your fingers gripping the edge of your chair. "It’s… it’s everything else. I have a life here. I have a job. I have you."

Spencer’s heart clenched at your words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. "I know, and I love our life together," he said earnestly. "But I don’t want you to look back in ten years and wonder ‘what if.’ I don’t want you to resent me for holding you back from something you were meant to do."

You flinched at his words, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. "You think I’d ever resent you? Spencer, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re the one who’s always supported me, encouraged me to believe in myself when no one else did."

"And I’m still doing that," he countered gently. "That’s why I’m pushing this. I can’t stand the thought of you letting this slip away because you’re scared to leave me behind."

"It’s not just that," you admitted, your voice breaking as tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t want to lose us. What if I go, and everything falls apart?"

Spencer reached for your hands, cradling them between his. His thumbs traced soothing circles over your knuckles as he looked at you with all the tenderness in the world. "You won’t lose me, Y/N," he promised, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "I’ll be here, cheering you on, no matter where you are. I’d rather see you chasing your dreams, even if it’s from a distance, than staying here and giving up on them for me."

Your tears spilled over, and you shook your head, torn between love for him and the fear of what leaving might mean. "I just don’t know, Spencer," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

"I do," he said softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "I know how much you’re capable of, and I know you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. And I love you too much to let that happen."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling between you like an immovable wall. You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill again. “I’m just—I’m not going. Leave it alone,” you said firmly, your voice quieter than you intended but laced with finality.

Spencer hesitated, his hand still outstretched as if reaching for you might close the growing distance between you. “Y/N,” he murmured softly, his tone a mix of frustration and desperation.

“Can we be done with this, please?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but resolute. You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to feel like you were fighting with the one person who always understood you.

Spencer stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue further. But then he closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The word hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions—disappointment, worry, and love all tangled together. Spencer looked down at the table, fiddling with his napkin as if it held answers he couldn’t find in your eyes.

You turned your gaze away, your chest tightening as silence settled over the room. It wasn’t the kind of silence that came with comfort—it was heavy, suffocating, filled with everything neither of you was saying.

And though you had put an end to the conversation, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a crack in something you weren’t sure how to fix.

—

August 2007

"Who was that?" Spencer asked as you walked back inside from the patio, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. He had noticed the look on your face as you ended the call—something between apprehension and surprise.

You glanced down at your phone, the screen still lit with the call log. "Aubrey," you said hesitantly, tucking the device into your pocket.

Spencer tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Aubrey Wilkes?"

"Yeah," you admitted, your tone cautious as you avoided his gaze. "She… uh, she got my number. I don’t know how, but she did." You let out a nervous laugh, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

Spencer’s expression shifted to one of intrigue and concern. "And?" he prompted, sensing there was more to the story.

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "She asked me to consider coming. Said there’s a spot opening next year—her number two is supposed to leave for another job in Milan."

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his eyes searching your face as he processed the news. "That’s… huge," he said slowly, his voice laced with both excitement and hesitation.

"I know," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s… it’s everything I dreamed about. She said she’d hold the spot for me if I wanted it."

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze softening as he tried to read the emotions flickering across your face. "What did you say?"

"I didn’t say anything," you admitted, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "I told her I needed time to think about it."

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a moment to respond. "And… are you thinking about it?"

You hesitated, your eyes dropping to the floor. "I don’t know," you said quietly. "I told you I wasn’t going. But now… it’s like she’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me, and I don’t know if I can ignore it anymore."

Spencer’s heart ached at your words, but he forced a gentle smile as he said, “You shouldn’t ignore it.”

You sighed heavily, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a storm cloud. "It’s just too much to think about right now," you murmured, walking over to where he sat. Without hesitation, you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped protectively around you. The warmth of his embrace was like a balm, soothing the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

"Will you read to me?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Of course, my love,” he replied without hesitation, his tone tender. He reached for the book he had been reading earlier, adjusting slightly so you could be more comfortable.

As his calm, steady voice filled the room, weaving through the story’s narrative, you felt your nerves begin to settle. The cadence of his words acted like a lullaby, each one wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Spencer kept reading, even when he noticed your body growing heavier against his, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.

He paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you. You were wearing a sweater you had designed and crafted yourself, the intricate stitching a testament to your talent and creativity. In your peaceful state, with your lips slightly parted and your lashes resting against your cheeks, you looked serene.

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched you, a flood of emotions washing over him. He felt an overwhelming admiration for you—for your strength, your brilliance, your passion. But beneath that admiration was a deep-seated fear.

He didn’t want you to give up this massive opportunity, the one you had dreamed of for so long, the one that could change your life. And yet, he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt that maybe he was the reason you were hesitating.

The thought that he might be holding you back, even unintentionally, was almost unbearable. He wanted to be the one who supported you, who cheered you on, who encouraged you to take risks and chase your dreams. But as he held you in his arms, he wondered if his love for you was making it harder for you to leave.

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet room, “I just want you to be happy.”

He knew that when the time came, he would have to push you, no matter how much it hurt. Because loving you meant wanting the best for you—even if it meant letting you go.

—

March 2008

You and Spencer were strolling through the mall, casually browsing the stores as you searched for the perfect gift for your grandmother’s upcoming birthday. The two of you laughed together as you passed by store windows, debating what she might like—a scarf, a brooch, maybe a fancy tea set.

But then your steps slowed, your attention caught by something glinting behind a clear glass case. It was almost subconscious, your feet carrying you toward it before you even realized what had drawn you in.

"Rings?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and amused as he came to stand beside you. His eyes flicked to the sparkling display before landing on your face, a tender smile curling on his lips.

"Do you ever think about getting married?" you asked suddenly, your gaze still fixed on the rings, their polished surfaces reflecting the light.

The question caught Spencer off guard. He blinked, his smile faltering for just a second before it returned, gentler this time. "Of course," he said softly, the vulnerability in his tone unmistakable. "Do… do you?"

You finally tore your eyes away from the display, turning to face him with a grin. Your heart swelled at the look on his face—so earnest, so full of quiet hope.

"Yes," you admitted, your smile widening as you decided to tease him just a little. "Preferably to a tall, nerdy doctor. But, you know, beggars can’t be choosers."

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, his lips pulling into a bashful smile as he looked down at you. "I think you might be in luck," he said, his voice laced with warmth and a hint of playful humor.

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head and feigning surprise.

"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes glimmering with affection. "I hear there’s one who’s absolutely crazy about you."

Your laughter bubbled up, filling the air between you as you leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both stood there, the sparkling rings forgotten as you focused entirely on each other.

In that moment, with his arm around you and the warmth of his love so evident, you couldn’t help but imagine a future where one of those rings might be yours—and that future felt a lot closer than you’d ever thought possible.

—

May 2008

“Aubrey,” you sighed into the phone, keeping your voice low as you closed the bedroom door behind you. Spencer had finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning, his fever making rest nearly impossible. The last thing you wanted was to wake him now. “I told you I can’t.”

Unbeknownst to you, the sound of the door clicking shut had stirred Spencer. His eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over him as he realized you weren’t lying beside him anymore. He sat up slightly, his head still heavy with fatigue, and strained to hear your voice coming from somewhere outside the room.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. At least, that’s what he told himself. But the moment he heard Aubrey’s name fall from your lips, his chest tightened, and his focus sharpened.

“No… no… it’s not that…” Your voice wavered, and Spencer could picture you chewing your thumb nervously—something you always did when you were stressed. “I can’t leave. My whole life is in Virginia… well, no… he told me to go… yes, I know—”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart clenching at your words.

“I love him, I love my life with him,” you continued, and Spencer felt his chest ache in equal parts relief and guilt. “Obviously… I’m sure it would work, but—” You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and longing. “My answer is still no. I’m sorry.”

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed what he’d just heard. He could feel the weight of your words pressing against his chest, a reminder of the sacrifice you were making. He knew he was the reason you were staying. You were giving up your dream for him, and as much as he loved you for it, he couldn’t let it happen.

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Spencer quickly laid back down, shutting his eyes tight like a child pretending to sleep past their bedtime. He tried to even out his breathing, though his heart raced beneath the covers.

You slipped back into the bedroom quietly, the dim light from the hallway casting a soft glow as you moved toward the bed. Sliding under the covers, you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest. Your lips pressed a tender kiss over his heart, and you whispered, “I love you so much, Spencer Reid.”

Spencer’s chest swelled at your words, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as he fought back the wave of emotions threatening to overcome him.

As your breathing steadied and you drifted off to sleep, Spencer lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the echo of your words—“I love him… he told me to go.”

By the time sleep finally claimed him, his mind was filled with plans. He had to get you to New York. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it scared him, he had to make sure you followed your dreams—even if it meant losing you in the process.

—

December 2008 – Present

"Reid, are you paying attention?" Hotch’s firm yet concerned tone cut through the fog in Spencer’s mind, snapping him out of his reverie.

Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes meeting Hotch’s piercing gaze. "Yes, sir," he replied quickly, his voice steady though his heart wasn’t.

"Good. Let’s keep it that way," Hotch grumbled, clearly not in the mood for distractions.

The team was seated around the conference table in the BAU’s jet, discussing the details of their latest case. They were headed to New York, where several women had been drugged and abducted from exclusive nightclubs in the Upper East Side. The unsub’s profile was slowly taking shape, but for Spencer, focusing on the details was harder than usual.

Even hearing the name New York was like a dagger twisting in his side. It brought with it a flood of memories he had tried and failed to suppress—memories of you.

He could picture the night you had finally told Aubrey no, the way your voice trembled with conviction when you said you were staying in Virginia. And yet, here he was, sitting on a jet bound for the very city where you were supposed to be building your dream.

Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. This is my job. Focus on the case. He repeated the mantra in his mind, forcing himself to look at the crime scene photos spread across the table.

But as the jet began its descent into the city, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the window. The glittering skyline of New York City came into view, and his chest tightened. He wondered, not for the first time, what your life might have looked like now. Would you be walking those streets right now, thriving in a world that had always been meant for you?

"Reid, thoughts?" JJ’s voice broke through his spiral, and Spencer quickly blinked, realizing the team was looking at him expectantly.

"Uh…" He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "The unsub likely uses a combination of charm and familiarity to gain the victims’ trust. Based on the timeline, he’s calculated and methodical, which suggests he’s not working impulsively. He might be using the same clubs regularly to scope out his targets."

JJ nodded, taking notes as Morgan chimed in with his own observations. Hotch seemed satisfied that Spencer was back on track, but Spencer could still feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.

As the jet landed and the team prepared to disembark, Spencer grabbed his bag and fell into step behind the others. He reminded himself that the job came first, that the women out there needed them to be focused and sharp.

But as they exited the airport and the cold New York air hit his face, Spencer couldn’t help but feel the ghost of what could have been following close behind.

As the team settled into the precinct, the familiar buzz of activity filled the air—phones ringing, officers shuffling papers, and the hum of conversation about the case. Spencer sat at a desk, his eyes scanning over a map as he worked on the geographical profile. On the surface, he looked focused, but internally, he was at war with himself.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. The sharp lines on the map blurred as his thoughts drifted.

Which building do you live in? The question looped through his mind like a broken record. He knew you had moved to the Upper East Side with Aubrey when you first came to New York. But that had been months ago—almost a year, actually. Maybe you didn’t live with her anymore. Maybe you had your own place now.

And then, more troubling thoughts crept in. Are you being safe? His chest tightened at the idea of you walking these streets, the same streets where women were being drugged and taken.

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the photos of the nightclubs spread across the desk. He knew it was unlikely you frequented places like these. You’d never been one for the nightlife, always shying away from loud music and crowded spaces. He remembered how you used to fidget at gatherings, instinctively seeking out quieter corners where you could breathe.

But the thought of you even being near these places, of someone seeing you, targeting you—it made his stomach churn.

God, I hope you’re safe, Spencer thought, clenching his jaw as he tried to shake the image of you from his mind.

“Reid, you okay?” Morgan’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

Spencer blinked, his hands tightening around the edges of the map. “Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound calmer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to piece together the unsub’s movements.”

Morgan studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. “Alright, well, let me know if you need a second pair of eyes.”

Spencer nodded, returning his gaze to the map. But even as he tried to refocus, his mind kept drifting back to you. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t even been able to convince himself to reach out.

And yet, here he was, in your city, wondering if you were okay, if you were happy, if you were thinking about him too.

After spending the day checking out the crime scenes and canvasing the surrounding areas, the team returned to the precinct to deliver their initial profile to the local police. Spencer sat near the back of the room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he tried to keep his focus on the case.

Emily stood at the front, presenting the profile with her usual confidence. "We believe the unsub is targeting wealthy women," she explained, her tone even but firm. "Women who appear successful and independent—CEO’s, CFO’s, designers, singers, dancers, actors, chefs, etcetera. He sees them as trophies, not just victims. He uses their wealth and status to justify robbing them, taking their IDs, and eventually breaking into their homes after he’s done with them. This is about control and power, and his choice of victims reflects that."

Spencer’s stomach churned as he listened, each word cutting deeper into his already frayed nerves. His mind was no longer on the women they were profiling; it was back on you.

Every victim they described could have been you. Successful, talented, determined—everything about you fit the profile. You had climbed to the top of your field, a name that carried weight and admiration. You were exactly the kind of woman this unsub sought to dominate, to tear down.

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the board where photos of the victims were pinned. Each face reminded him of you in some way—the confident smiles, the elegant postures, the undeniable strength that radiated from their pictures.

He tried to push the thoughts away, to remind himself that you were likely far from this mess, probably tucked away in a luxurious apartment or a designer studio, far removed from the chaos he was immersed in.

But the fear gnawed at him anyway. What if you weren’t safe? What if you were walking these streets late at night, lost in thought or distracted, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby?

Morgan’s voice pulled him back to the moment, but Spencer barely registered what was being said. He felt frozen, paralyzed by the weight of his thoughts and the eerie similarities between you and the women they were trying to protect.

The briefing ended, and the room began to clear out, officers heading back to their tasks. Spencer stayed seated, staring blankly at the photos on the board. His chest felt tight, his mind racing with all the possibilities he didn’t want to consider.

"Reid?" JJ’s voice broke through the haze, her expression soft as she approached him. "What’s up with you? Is something wrong?”

He blinked, forcing himself to shake his head. "No," he lied, his voice flat. "Everything is fine."

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close. Every instinct in him screamed to find you, to check on you, to make sure you were okay. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought that this case wasn’t just about catching an unsub—it was about protecting you from a danger he couldn’t control.

—

You were getting ready with Aubrey and the rest of your group, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement. It was Blake’s 27th birthday, and they had chosen to celebrate with a night out at the clubs.

The leopard-print dress you wore hugged your frame perfectly, its bold design a gift from Aubrey herself. As you zipped up your deep burgundy leather boots, the rich color catching the light, you couldn’t help but glance at your reflection. The outfit was striking—you felt sexy and confident.

“Shots!” Kurt’s voice boomed from the living room, drawing laughter and cheers from the group. You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you finished adjusting your boots.

“You ready to go, superstar?” Aubrey teased, leaning in the doorway with a knowing smile. She looked impeccable, as always, her outfit radiating confidence and style.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a grin, standing and smoothing out your dress.

“Good,” Aubrey said, linking her arm with yours. “Because tonight, we’re leaving all the stress and work drama behind. It’s Blake’s night, and you, my dear, are going to have fun.”

You laughed, letting her guide you toward the rest of the group. As the music played loudly in the background and someone handed you a shot glass, you tried to push away the unease creeping in. This wasn’t your scene, but for Blake—and with your friends by your side—you’d make the best of it.

What’s the harm of one night out on the town?

Aubrey, with her effortless charm and impressive connections, had managed to get your group into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. As you approached the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement as you passed the long line of people waiting to get in.

The bouncer gave your group a once-over before glancing at his clipboard, where your names were already on the list. He nodded to the hostess, who gestured for you to follow her inside. You exchanged amused glances with Aubrey, her confident smirk making it clear she was in her element.

The energy of the club hit you immediately—a pulsing rhythm of music, vibrant lights reflecting off chandeliers and mirrored disco balls, and the faint scent of expensive perfume mingling with the coolness of the air-conditioned space.

You were quickly led to a private VIP lounge area, tucked away yet with a perfect view of the dance floor. The sleek leather seating, soft glow of ambient lighting, and low table with a bottle of premium alcohol chilling on ice made it clear this was luxury at its finest.

As you settled in with the group, Aubrey leaned over with a grin. "Not bad, huh?"

"Not bad at all," you admitted, finally starting to feel the buzz of excitement that the rest of the group had radiated all night.

Kurt popped the cork on the bottle with a celebratory cheer, pouring out drinks as Blake laughed and raised their glass. "To the best birthday ever!" Blake called out, their joy infectious as everyone clinked their glasses together.

You took a sip, letting the fizzy warmth spread through you, and glanced out at the dance floor, watching the kaleidoscope of lights play over the crowd. For the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax, leaning into the moment. Tonight wasn’t about anything else—it was about celebrating Blake, being with friends, and maybe, just maybe, finding some joy in the chaos.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, as the excitement of the night wore on, that you noticed something was wrong. Analise hadn’t returned from the bathroom in a very long time. At first, you didn’t think much of it—maybe she’d gotten caught up chatting with someone or had taken a phone call. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, unease began to settle in.

You mentioned it to Aubrey, and soon, the rest of your group was involved, searching the crowded club for her. You checked every possible place she could be—the bathroom, the dance floor, the bar. You even tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as you decided to check with door security. Maybe she’d decided to leave early and hadn’t told anyone. But when you explained the situation, the response you got made your heart drop.

“She left about 40 minutes ago,” the bouncer informed you, his tone matter-of-fact. “She was with a man.”

Your blood ran cold. Analise was a married lesbian woman with children. There was no way she would leave with a man.

“That’s impossible,” you said, your voice shaking. “She wouldn’t… she would never do that.”

The bouncer frowned, his expression darkening as he realized the weight of your words. Aubrey, ever composed, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “We need to check the security footage. Now.”

The staff moved quickly, pulling up the tapes as your group crowded around, watching with bated breath. And there it was—clear as day. Analise stumbling out of the bathroom, visibly dazed, as a man wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the exit. You could see her trying to resist, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, but she was no match for him.

Your stomach churned as the man led her out of the club. It was clear she’d been drugged and coerced.

“We’re calling the police,” one of the security staff said, already reaching for his radio.

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. The authorities arrived swiftly, questioning the staff and reviewing the footage. Your group, shaken and worried sick, was told to wait outside. When the police finally addressed you, it was to inform you that they needed to take statements from everyone who had been with Analise that night.

Before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a police car, the flashing lights reflecting off the club’s exterior as it faded into the distance. Aubrey sat beside you, her normally composed demeanor fractured by worry. The rest of your group was being transported in other cars, but you all shared the same fear: What if it’s too late?

As the car sped toward the station, you stared out the window, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Analise’s face, her laugh, her stories about her wife and kids—it all played in your mind like a reel you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was your fault, that somehow you should have noticed sooner, should have done something.

Aubrey reached over, squeezing your hand tightly. “We’ll find her,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered.

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. All you could do now was hope the authorities could act quickly enough. Analise’s life could depend on it.

Your group was led into a quiet room, far from the noise and chaos of the precinct. The space felt sterile and impersonal, and the tension in the air was palpable as you waited, all of you exchanging worried glances. One by one, your friends were called out by law enforcement to give their accounts of the night’s events.

You tried to steady your breathing, but your heart sank when one of the officers mentioned that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was on the case. The BAU, you thought, your stomach twisting into knots. That could only mean one thing—Spencer.

Your mind raced. Please, let him be out in the field. Let him be anywhere but here, you silently begged. The idea of seeing him again, especially under these circumstances, felt overwhelming.

But then a petite, pretty blonde woman entered the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to your spiraling nerves. She scanned the list in her hands before looking up and saying your name with a polite smile.

You hesitated but stood up, smoothing your dress as you followed her down the hallway. She led you to a small interrogation room, where the walls seemed to close in just a little too tightly.

“Have a seat,” the woman said gently, gesturing to the chair across from her. She handed you a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room.

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, clutching the cup between your hands as if it were a lifeline.

The woman gave you a reassuring smile, her blue eyes warm and steady. “My name is Jennifer Jareau,” she said, her voice calm and professional. “I’m an agent with the BAU, and I just have a few questions for you. You’re not in any trouble; we’re just trying to get a clear picture of what happened tonight.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

JJ leaned forward slightly, her posture open and non-threatening. “I know tonight was difficult, but anything you can tell us might help us find your friend and bring her home safely.”

You took a deep breath, letting her words settle over you. As much as you were afraid of what this moment represented, you knew you had to focus on Analise. You began recounting the evening, walking her through everything you could remember—how Analise had gone to the bathroom, how long she’d been gone, and how your group had discovered she had left the club with a man.

JJ listened intently, taking notes but never breaking eye contact. Her steady presence made it easier to keep talking, even as your voice faltered at times.

When you finished, she nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been really helpful. Thank you for being so detailed—it makes a big difference.”

You offered a small, shaky smile. “I just want her to be okay.”

“We’re going to do everything we can,” JJ said firmly, her voice filled with quiet determination.

You nodded again, but as she stood to leave, a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if Spencer really is here? What if he walks through that door next? You weren’t sure you were ready for that moment. Not now. Not like this.

—

When the call came in about a new abduction, Spencer held his breath, his stomach tightening as a familiar sense of dread crept in. For a brief, harrowing moment, he waited to hear your name. But it wasn’t.

“Analise Bordeaux,” Penelope said over the phone, her tone efficient but tinged with urgency. “She’s a top-rated journalist for the New York Times. Married, with two kids. Her wife also reported her missing earlier tonight after she didn’t return home at a previously agreed time.”

Spencer let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but the relief was fleeting. Another brilliant, accomplished woman was in danger, and the unsub’s pattern was becoming even clearer.

“Morgan, Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the tense moment, bringing everyone back to focus. “I want the two of you to head to the club. Talk to the staff, review the footage, and see if anyone remembers anything unusual.”

“Got it,” Morgan replied, already grabbing his jacket.

Spencer nodded, silently falling into step with his partner. The ride to the club was quiet, the weight of the case settling heavily between them. Spencer’s mind wandered, as it often did in moments like this, and despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted to you. Were you okay? Were you being safe in this massive, chaotic city? The idea of something happening to you gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t shake.

When they arrived at the club, the music still pulsed faintly in the background as staff cleaned up after the night’s events. The bouncer and several employees were waiting for them, and Derek immediately took the lead, flashing his badge and asking for access to the security footage.

Spencer scanned the room as they worked, his sharp eyes noting every detail. The club was upscale, the kind of place that catered to high-profile clients, which fit the unsub’s victimology perfectly. He and Derek pored over the footage, watching as Analise stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements sluggish and disoriented. The man who had escorted her out didn’t seem remarkable at first glance, but Spencer’s mind was already analyzing every subtle detail—the way he scanned the room, the calculated calmness in his movements.

“This guy fits in with the crowd,” Derek muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

Spencer nodded. “He knows exactly how to stay under the radar. He’s blending in, using the chaos of the club to his advantage.”

After questioning staff and gathering everything they could from the scene, the two men left the club and headed back to the precinct. The weight of what they’d seen hung heavily in the air between them, but Spencer was unusually quiet.

“You good, pretty boy?” Derek finally asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Spencer lied, his voice quieter than usual. “Just… thinking.”

Derek didn’t push, but Spencer could feel his partner’s eyes on him.

When Derek and Spencer arrived back at the precinct, they headed straight to the makeshift conference area where the rest of the team was gathered. The atmosphere was tense but focused, with everyone comparing notes and piecing together the puzzle of Analise’s abduction.

JJ was finishing up her report on the interviews she had conducted with Analise’s friends. She held a notepad in her hand, skimming through her findings as she updated the team.

“We have a list of people Analise spent the evening with,” JJ said, holding up the notepad. “Her coworkers and a few close friends all confirmed she wasn’t acting like herself before she went to the bathroom. Said she was dazed, disoriented in the footage—classic signs of being drugged. One of them even mentioned they tried calling her, but her phone’s off now.”

As JJ spoke, Spencer’s gaze landed on the notepad in her hand. Something about it nagged at him—a sense of urgency he couldn’t quite place.

“Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the list of names.

JJ didn’t hesitate, handing the notepad over with a slight frown of curiosity. “Sure,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

Spencer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the list quickly, his brain processing each name at lightning speed. And then he saw it.

Your name.

It hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt. His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on the notepad tightened as if he needed to steady himself.

You’re here.

“What is it, Reid?” JJ asked, her voice breaking through the sudden rush of emotions.

Spencer forced himself to look up, his expression carefully neutral. “Um,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I just… wanted to see if anyone stood out.”

He handed the notepad back to JJ, his hand trembling slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice, but Morgan, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes at him.

Spencer’s mind raced. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t spoken to you since the night he let you go. And now, here you were, tangled up in a case involving dangerous predators and a missing woman. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the panic rising in his chest.

“You recognize anyone?” JJ asked, her tone casual as she flipped back through the list.

“No,” Spencer lied once more, his voice steadier this time.

But inside, he felt like he was falling apart. Because no matter how much he tried to focus on the case, on the unsub, on finding Analise, one thought overpowered everything else: You were here.

“What do you think, Hotch?” Rossi started, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Should we let them go?” He gestured vaguely, referring to your group still waiting in the designated room.

“No,” Spencer said quickly, speaking up out of turn. His voice was firmer than he’d intended, and everyone turned to look at him with raised brows.

“They’re safer here,” Spencer continued, his tone more measured now. “The unsub might have seen them. If they were with Analise all night, they could’ve been noticed, even targeted.”

“Reid’s right,” Hotch said, nodding as he turned back to Rossi. “We’ll keep them here until we have more information. JJ, did any of them mention recognizing the unsub from the footage? Or if Analise recently changed anything in her routine that might have drawn attention?”

JJ gently took her notepad back from Spencer, giving him another curious glance before flipping through her notes. “Uh… yes,” she said, stopping on a specific page. “One of them—Y/N Y/L—mentioned that Analise had just gotten a promotion at work. They went out to celebrate at a new restaurant last Thursday.”

Spencer stiffened at the mention of your name, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.

“Alright,” Hotch said decisively. “Let’s bring Y/N back into the interrogation room. She might have seen this man at the restaurant and didn’t realize it.”

“I’ll go get her,” JJ offered, already rising from her seat and heading toward the door.

“I’ll come too,” Spencer blurted out before he could stop himself.

Everyone turned to look at him again, surprise flashing across their faces.

“May—maybe a second set of ears,” Spencer stammered, quickly trying to justify his outburst. “Um, a new perspective might help.”

Hotch studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read Spencer’s motives. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Fine. Go with her.”

JJ gave Spencer a questioning look but said nothing, motioning for him to follow her. As they walked down the hallway toward the room where you and your friends were waiting, Spencer felt his chest tighten with every step.

He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. And now, he was seconds away from coming face-to-face with the person he’d never stopped thinking about.

—

You were just starting to lose your patience, shifting in your seat and glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, when the door opened again. The same woman from before, Jennifer, stepped inside with her calm and professional demeanor.

“Y/N?” she said with a polite smile. “Can we see you again?”

Your friends exchanged questioning glances, murmuring words of encouragement as you stood. “Good luck,” one of them whispered as you followed JJ out of the room and down the hallway.

You tried to steady yourself, reminding yourself this was all routine. Just more questions. Nothing out of the ordinary. But as you stepped into the cold interrogation room again, the air felt different—charged, heavy.

And then you saw him.

Sitting in the chair across from the table, Spencer.

Your breath caught in your throat, and the room that had felt icy before now felt like it was a thousand degrees hotter. You froze for a moment, your mind racing to make sense of the sight in front of you. He looked the same, yet different. His hair was slightly longer, his face a little more tired, but those eyes—the same deep, thoughtful eyes you’d once adored—were unmistakable.

Spencer’s head snapped up as you entered, and for a second, he looked just as startled as you felt. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.

“Y/N,” JJ said gently, breaking the heavy silence. She gestured toward the chair across from Spencer. “Have a seat.”

You nodded stiffly, forcing your legs to move as you crossed the room and sat down. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves, shock, or something else entirely.

Spencer cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, your throat dry as you nodded again. “Hello, agent,” you replied, equally quiet.

JJ glanced between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion, but she quickly masked it. “Y/N, we just have a few follow-up questions,” she said, sitting down beside Spencer and pulling out her notepad.

But it didn’t matter what she said. The only thing you could focus on was Spencer, sitting right there in front of you, as if the years between you had suddenly disappeared.

The questions started simply enough—where had you and your group gone to dinner? How many people were there? Did anyone stand out or seem to take special interest in you?

“There was one person,” you said after a moment of thought, tilting your head slightly as you tried to recall the details. “He was a busboy, I believe. But he kept coming by our table to check on us.”

Spencer, who had been taking notes alongside JJ, immediately perked up at that. “He wasn’t your server?” he asked, his voice calm but focused.

You shook your head, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “No, our server was a woman. She was very attentive, but this guy—he kept showing up. At first, we thought he was just really good at his job, but it started to feel… I don’t know, a little strange.”

JJ leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. “Strange how? Did he say anything to you, or was it more about his behavior?”

“It was mostly his behavior,” you replied, frowning as you tried to piece together the memory. “He’d clear away plates that didn’t really need to be cleared yet, or refill water glasses that were barely half-empty. And every time he came by, he’d linger for just a second too long. It was subtle, but… noticeable.”

Spencer exchanged a quick glance with JJ before asking, “Can you describe him? Anything about his appearance that stood out?”

You nodded, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focused on the image in your mind. “He was average height, maybe a little shorter than you,” you glanced at Spencer. “Dark hair, clean-shaven. He had this kind of… intense way of looking at people, like he was trying to figure them out.”

Spencer scribbled furiously in his notebook, his pen moving so fast it almost blurred. “Do you remember if he wore anything unusual? Jewelry, a watch, anything like that?”

You paused, biting your lip as you thought. “I… I think he had a tattoo on his wrist,” you said finally. “It was hard to see because of the uniform, but when he reached over to clear a plate, I noticed it. It looked like… a triangle, or something geometric.”

“That’s good,” JJ said with a nod, giving you an encouraging smile. “That’s really helpful, Y/N.”

But your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was still scribbling notes with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything unsaid passed between you.

“Anything else you remember, no matter how small?” he asked softly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something deeper—something that felt almost personal.

You shook your head slightly. “No, I think that’s it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now…” You trailed off, a shiver running down your spine at the realization of how close your group may have been to danger.

Spencer nodded, his expression unreadable as he set his pen down. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

JJ stood, glancing at her notes before giving you another reassuring smile. “We’ll follow up with the restaurant and see if anyone knows him. You’ve been really helpful, Y/N.”

You nodded, rising from your chair, but your eyes lingered on Spencer for just a moment longer before you turned to leave the room. And as you walked back to your friends, you couldn’t help but feel like this encounter had stirred up more than just memories of the night—it had brought something long-buried between you and Spencer back to the surface.

Before you could reach the room where your friends were waiting, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. The unexpected touch made you stop, turning instinctively.

There he was—Spencer, standing just behind you, his face filled with an urgency that took your breath away. He looked like he was holding back a storm, his words spilling out before he could second-guess himself.

“Can I see you before I leave?” he asked, his voice low but rushed, as if afraid you might say no.

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind scrambling to process the request. And before you even realized it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, the word leaving your lips almost automatically.

Relief flashed across Spencer’s face, but he didn’t linger. He simply gave you a small, grateful nod before turning back toward the team. You stood there for a second, trying to collect yourself, before heading back into the room with your friends.

As soon as you sat down next to Aubrey, she leaned in, her sharp eyes scanning your face. “Was that Spencer?” she asked in a hushed whisper, her voice filled with curiosity and concern.

You nodded again, unable to bring yourself to speak.

“Are you okay?” Aubrey pressed, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

This time, you shook your head. The motion was small, but it felt monumental, like admitting the weight of everything that had just happened. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, the sharp pressure a weak attempt to distract yourself from the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.

Aubrey frowned, her expression softening as she studied you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head again, swallowing hard as you tried to push the overwhelming feelings down. “Not yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aubrey nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “Alright. But I’m here when you’re ready.”

You gave her a faint smile, grateful for her understanding. But as you sat there, surrounded by your friends and the low hum of their conversations, your mind was elsewhere—focused on Spencer, and the inevitable conversation that now loomed on the horizon.

—

Luckily, your information turned out to be exactly what the team needed. With Penelope’s tech skills and the restaurant staff’s confirmation, they were able to identify the unsub and locate Analise.

The relief was almost overwhelming when the news came in: Analise was found unharmed, aside from the lingering effects of the drugs and the red marks on her wrists where she’d been bound. The man hadn’t had the chance to carry out his full plan—robbing her or doing worse—thanks to the swift intervention of the police and FBI.

By the time everything was resolved, the authorities had cleared you and your friends to leave that same night. The long hours of tension melted away as you gathered your things, and your group began heading toward the precinct exit.

You stuck close to Aubrey, practically glued to her side as you wrapped an arm around her waist. Her presence grounded you, the warmth and familiarity of her reassuring after everything you’d been through.

“Finally,” Aubrey murmured as the two of you reached the doors, her tone light but laced with exhaustion.

You nodded, tightening your hold on her as you pushed through the glass doors into the cool night air. But as you stepped outside, your eyes darted around instinctively, searching for a glimpse of Spencer.

And there he was, standing just a short distance away, speaking with Morgan and Hotch. His back was to you, but even from where you stood, you could feel the weight of the moment.

You immediately turned your head, your arm tightening around Aubrey as you kept moving. You didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk Spencer catching sight of you—or worse, calling out to you.

Aubrey glanced down at you as the two of you walked quickly toward the car. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice steady despite her own obvious fatigue.

“Yeah,” you whispered, though your grip on her waist betrayed your nerves.

As you slid into the car, your heart still raced. The thought of seeing Spencer again—even after everything—left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a tiny, nagging part of you that wondered what would’ve happened if you’d let yourself stop.

But for now, you were content to let an officer drive you home, the city lights blurring outside the window as you leaned against the seat, trying to process the night’s events—and the man who still had the power to shake you to your core.

The incessant ringing of your phone jolted you awake, the sound cutting through the fog of your restless sleep. You groaned, squinting against the morning light as you reached for your phone on the nightstand.

Your heart skipped a beat when you glanced at the screen. No name was displayed, just a number. But it was a number you could never forget, no matter how hard you’d tried.

You had deleted Spencer’s contact months ago, telling yourself it was for the best, a necessary step in moving on. But his number was burned into your memory, a string of digits that you could recite as easily as your own name.

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the answer button. The ringtone seemed louder, more insistent, as if demanding a decision.

Your chest tightened, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. Why is he calling? What does he want? Can I even handle hearing his voice right now?

But before you could overthink it any further, your thumb moved almost of its own accord, pressing the button and bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you said softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make your heart race, and then you heard it—a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his tone cautious, almost tentative. “I… I’m sorry to call so early. I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s going on, Spencer?” you asked, your tone carefully neutral.

He hesitated, and you could practically hear him piecing his words together. “I just… I couldn’t leave New York without talking to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not after last night. Not after seeing you again.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.

“I know this isn’t fair,” Spencer continued, his words tumbling out now, “but… can we talk? Just the two of us? Please?”

You closed your eyes, leaning back against the headboard as you exhaled slowly. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if you were ready to reopen wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. But the sound of his voice, the raw emotion in it, made it impossible to say no.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “When?”

“Now?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope and hesitation. “I can come to you, or we can meet somewhere—whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, your mind still racing. “There’s a café a couple of blocks from me,” you said finally, giving him the address. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.”

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand. Part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend none of this was happening. But another part—the part that had never really let Spencer go—knew this was a conversation that was long overdue.

—

November 2004

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice spoke from behind you, polite but a little unsure.

You turned around, confused, to find a lanky man with slicked-back hair and glasses standing there, looking at you expectantly. He wore an awkward smile, his hands fidgeting slightly as he shifted on his feet.

“Yes?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to place him.

“If it’s no bother, we would really appreciate the check. We were just called into work,” he explained sheepishly, gesturing to a man sitting at the table behind him, who was watching the interaction with an amused grin.

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Um,” you started, your tone hesitant, “I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”

The man sitting across from him burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Nice going, Reid.”

The one who had spoken—Reid, apparently—turned bright red, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologize. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to assume, I just—your outfit—it looks just like the uniforms the waitstaff are wearing!”

You frowned, glancing down at your clothes—a crisp white blouse tucked into sleek black slacks. Then it clicked, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “Oh, wow,” you said, grinning at him. “That’s… actually kind of funny. I designed the uniforms, so I guess I subconsciously dressed accordingly.”

Reid blinked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “You designed them?” he asked, his embarrassment giving way to genuine curiosity.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, glancing around the restaurant. “I work for the owner—well, freelance. They hired me to design uniforms that were professional but stylish.”

“That’s… really impressive,” Reid said, his tone sincere as he adjusted his glasses. “They’re—um, they’re very nice. Clearly convincing,” he added, his cheeks still pink.

The man at his table laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky she’s nice, kid. That could’ve gone way worse.”

You smiled, brushing off the comment. “No harm done,” you said, waving a hand. Then, looking back at Reid, you added, “Just maybe double-check next time before you assume.”

“Noted,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “And again, I’m really sorry.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, shaking your head at the interaction. Little did you know, it was the beginning of something much bigger than a misunderstanding over a uniform.

—

December 2008 – Present

You sat at the small table in the café, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth with one hand while biting your thumb with the other. The café was quiet, the gentle hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine creating a soothing background. Still, your nerves were anything but calm.

You hadn’t seen Spencer yet, but you felt his presence looming, the anticipation making your chest feel tight. Your mind raced with a million thoughts—what he would say, what you should say, how this meeting would go after all the time that had passed.

“Excuse me, miss,” a familiar voice interrupted, laced with a soft, teasing tone. “You don’t happen to work here, do you?”

Your head snapped up, and your lips parted in surprise, only for the tension in your chest to loosen when you saw him. Spencer stood there, looking both nervous and amused, his hands tucked awkwardly into his coat pockets. His hair was slightly tousled from the cold, and his glasses caught the soft glow of the café lights.

You couldn’t help it—amusement took over as you remembered the very first time he had said those words to you. “Seriously?” you said, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to lead with that?”

Spencer shrugged, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. “I figured it worked the first time,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes flickered to yours.

Your heart stuttered at the look he gave you, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in 2005, standing in that restaurant, completely oblivious to what the future held.

You shook your head, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Sit down, Reid,” you said, your tone light, though your voice still carried the weight of everything unsaid.

Spencer moved carefully, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile moment between you. He slid into the chair, his hands resting on the table, fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve.

“You remembered,” you said after a beat, unable to stop yourself.

“Of course I did,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I remember everything about you.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”

Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe? “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”

And just like that, the conversation you’d both been avoiding for years finally began.

Spencer folded his hands on the table, his long fingers twitching slightly as though unsure of where to begin. He glanced down at the tablecloth before looking back up at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out right away.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve never been one to struggle for words,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick in the air.

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” His voice was soft, almost tentative.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—weighted with years of unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, and all the things neither of you had said when you had the chance.

Spencer finally spoke, his voice low and earnest. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the directness of them catching you off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but he pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush, as though he’d been holding them back for too long.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I thought I was giving you the chance to live the life you deserved, to follow your dreams without me holding you back. But all I did was hurt you. And…” He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “I hurt myself too.”

You blinked, stunned by the raw honesty in his tone. You hadn’t expected him to dive in so quickly, to say the things you’d spent so long wondering if he even felt.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you didn’t just hurt me. You made a decision for both of us without even asking how I felt. You thought you were protecting me, but you didn’t give me a choice.”

He flinched slightly at your words, but he didn’t look away. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I know I handled it all wrong. I’ve replayed that night a thousand times in my head, and every time, I wish I’d done it differently. I wish I’d just… trusted you.”

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his words stirring something deep within you. “You think I didn’t want to go? That I didn’t think about what it could’ve meant for my career? I stayed because I loved you, Spencer. You were my dream. Not New York. Not Aubrey. You.”

Spencer’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. “And I threw it away,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t throw it away. You made a choice. We both did. And we have to live with that.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it—that he would drop it and let you both walk away again.

But then he looked up, and his eyes were filled with something fierce, something determined. “I don’t want to live with it,” he said firmly. “Not anymore. Not if there’s even the smallest chance I can fix this—fix us.”

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung between you. You wanted to say something, to respond, but you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak.

So instead, you just stared at him, waiting for him to keep going. And in that moment, Spencer Reid, the man who rarely hesitated to explain every detail, every fact, every statistic, did something unexpected.

He waited too.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope, for any clue as to how you might respond. You could see the vulnerability etched into every line of his face, the desperation for you to believe him, to give him a chance.

“Spencer,” you began softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Fix us? There is no us anymore. You made that abundantly clear when you kicked me out of my home.”

Your words were sharp, cutting through the fragile hope that had been lingering in the air. Spencer flinched as if you’d physically struck him, his face falling with the weight of your statement. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to find the right words.

“I didn’t—” he started, but then stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I thought—”

“You thought you knew what was best for me,” you interrupted, your tone more firm now as the hurt you’d buried for so long began to surface. “You didn’t even ask me how I felt. You made a decision for both of us and expected me to just accept it. And when I didn’t? When I tried to fight for us? You pushed me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Spencer said quickly, his voice cracking. “You still matter. I—I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You weren’t protecting me, Spencer. You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d resent you, so instead, you pushed me out of your life completely. And guess what? It hurt just as much—maybe even more.”

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it made your chest ache. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was afraid. I was terrified. Not just of you resenting me, but of… of failing you. Of not being enough. I convinced myself that letting you go was the selfless thing to do, but all I did was hurt you. And myself.”

You looked at him, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. Part of you wanted to lash out, to make him feel a fraction of the pain you’d carried for so long. But another part of you—a part you didn’t want to admit existed—still ached for him, still felt the pull of the man you’d once loved so deeply.

“You can’t just come back now and expect to fix everything,” you said, your voice softer but no less firm. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s not. But I had to try. I couldn’t leave New York without telling you how I feel, without letting you know that I’m sorry—for everything.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “And what happens after this, Spencer? What are you expecting? That I’ll just forget everything and we’ll go back to how things were?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t expect that. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking as he added, “I just needed you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes—it was all too much.

But so was the weight of everything that had happened, the scars that hadn’t fully healed.

“I never stopped loving you either,” you said finally, your voice trembling again. The admission felt heavy, like a weight you had been carrying for far too long, now released.

“Really?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to believe it.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Well, it’s only been half a year, Spencer. I thought I was going to marry you. That doesn’t just go away.”

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, it doesn’t.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the quiet of the café wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the raw, unspoken emotions lingering between you.

Then, Spencer shifted in his seat, his hands fumbling around in his bag as if he were searching for something. You watched him curiously, your heart pounding in your chest as he finally pulled out a small box.

“What is that?” you choked out, your voice barely audible.

Spencer held the box in his hand, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at you. “I bought this the day we went to the mall,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “When you asked me if I ever thought about marriage.” He paused, his fingers brushing over the edges of the box as if grounding himself. “When you went into the lingerie store, I went back and bought the ring you were staring at.”

Your breath hitched, your mind racing. “How did you know?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

“I’m a profiler,” he said with a small, almost shy smile. “I know—knew you so well. It wasn’t hard to see which one caught your eye.”

“It’s—the ring is in there right now?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Spencer nodded, his expression cautious but hopeful. “Do you want to see it?” he asked tentatively, his fingers tightening slightly around the box.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, slowly, you nodded, unable to find the words to say anything else.

Spencer opened the box, turning it toward you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

The ring was simple yet elegant—exactly the kind of style you’d always admired. A delicate band of platinum, with a perfectly cut diamond set in the center, surrounded by smaller stones that sparkled as if they held their own light.

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, your eyes never leaving the ring.

Spencer’s head snapped up, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he rushed out, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

“Yes,” you said again, louder this time, your gaze shifting from the ring to meet his wide, questioning eyes.

“Yes… what?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t allow himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.

You took a shaky breath, your emotions swelling and threatening to overflow. “I’ll marry you,” you said firmly, the words filling the space between you like a beacon.

Spencer froze, his lips parting slightly as he processed what you’d just said. For a moment, he looked like he might cry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as his hand tightened around the small box.

“You will?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of awe and disbelief.

“Yes,” you said again, nodding for emphasis. “I love you, Spencer. I never stopped. And I don’t want to waste any more time pretending like I don’t.”

Spencer’s hands trembled as he reached for yours, his grip warm and steady despite his obvious emotion. “I—I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, a nervous, breathless laugh escaping him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your voice soft but certain. “Just… ask me.”

Spencer blinked, his lips curving into the smallest, most genuine smile you’d seen in years. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slid out of his chair and knelt on one knee, still holding the box open.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you whispered, “Yes.”

Spencer slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking as he did so, and when he stood, you launched yourself into his arms. He caught you easily, holding you tightly as you both laughed and cried, the weight of years of pain and longing finally lifting.

In that small café, with the world around you fading into the background, the two of you found your way back to each other—against all odds, against all fears. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

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tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005

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ezisregrettinglifedecisions · 4 months ago

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"He's reached the limit of what he's able to achieve" - James Vowles on Logan Sargeant being dropped from the team mid-season.

Excuse me???? What utter bullshit is that? There are no limits to what someone can achieve that can be set by someone else. It is up to that person to decide what they can and can't achieve.

That should be Logan's choice if he believes he's reached his potential, not a biased boss who has treated him like a science experiment on the effects of rushing f2 drivers into f1 and then watching them fall without being there to pick them up and instead laughing at them and leaving them behind.

And then comes along Franco Colapinto who is being treated in the exact same way. (Plus the added disrespect of spelling his fucking NAME wrong?!?! How the fuck does someone fuck that up so spectacularly?)

When is Williams and James Vowles going to stop this horrible cycle of fulfilling an f2 driver's hopes and dreams of driving in f1 only to drop them like they're something to be used when they don't fulfil their idea of what they want.

Franco has got 9 races and then what? As people are pointing out, Williams' seats are filled for a few years so what's going to happen to Franco? Will he just be discarded like Logan because there's very few ways for him to be able to stay in f1 and that's heartbreaking because they've given him a wonderful opportunity but hidden inside it the potential ruin of his f1 career.

Williams and Vowles have made a lot of mistakes when it comes to handling this situation and a lot of people are angry on behalf of the drivers they are fucking over with their frankly selfish choices.

I've reposted others posts on it and now I've finally spoken on it myself.

I'm heartbroken for both Logan and Franco. Williams can't seem to stop talking about it and instead of apologising for the handling of this, they are digging themselves deeper and deeper into a hole that's going to end up with so much criticism and anger so they need to get their shit together.

Anyways love to Logan and Franco, hateful vibes being sent to Williams, and Oscar and Alex keep being wonderful and supporting Logan. Their statements both highlight the bullshit that is being spouted right now and I'm glad Logan has people in his corner when he might not feel like it all of the time.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #williams racing #logan sargeant #mclaren #oscar piastri #alex albon #ls2 #logan sargeant 2 #formula two #formula 2 #f2 #formula racing #franco colapinto #mp motorsport #ls2 x reader #logan sargeant x reader

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byou-shin · 8 months ago

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These sims are characters from my story "Paradise Prison". I like gothic story with religious theme plus with vampires, so I made it for my own satisfaction :) my fantasy life wouldn't be complete without these cc makers, so big thanks ^^

poster 1 : dress 1 & 2 by @miro-sims ; hair 2 by @jino-sims ; stocking 1 by Cheryl sgly ; stocking 2 by @arltos

poster 2 : hair 1 & 2 @jujujam-juice

poster 3 : veil by @yaya-maya-sims ; dress @vintagesimstress ; necklace by @ Cheryl sgly ; glasses @kaguya-fox

poster 4 : hair by @zaozzaa ; veil @yaya-maya-sims ; dress @kaguya-fox

poster 5 : dress by @lin-dian ; blouse by @yaya-maya-sims ; necklace @yuyulie

poster 6 : suit by @lin-dian ; hair by @ Kotehok + @jino-sims

poster 7 : military uniform by @simnasimsworld ; suit + vest @lin-dian

poster 8 : suit by @natalia-auditore ; hair by @wingssims

thanks to @miwksowp for helping me with my english for Adam's character profile :D (poster 5)

-> character names ->

Adam & Annabeth

Glenn & Adam

Sharon

Loretta

Adam

Xion

Adam, Gabriel, Morgan, Glenn

Gabriel

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mini Character Profiles (at the moment~)

Year : mid 1800s

Adam

Born name : - Given name : Adam, Adam Noir Sangriento Nickname : Adam, Noir, the Messiah Age : 13 years old (beginning of the story) - 16 years old (ending) Species : dhampire-methuselah Affiliation : Catholic church, the Vatican, Sanctus Dei testis Annuntiatio Evangelii, Sadisgate "Schwazer Anfang", Isten kegyelmének bizonyítéka, The House of Vogt Status : alive

Annabeth Vogt

Nickname : Anna, Annabeth Age : 14 (beginning of the story) - 16 (death day) Species : human Affiliation : The House of Vogt Status : deceased

Gabriel Tenebress

Nickname : Gabriel, Gaby, Brother Gabriel, Angelo Age : 30 years old (beginning of the story) - 33 (ending) Species : human Affiliation : Catholic church, the Vatican, Tenebrae Exterminatio Sancti Exercitus, Isten kegyelmének bizonyítéka, Orientem Canis Status : alive

Morgan Tenebress

Nickname : Morgan, Mauros, Father Morgan Age : 29 years old (beginning of the story) - 33 years old (ending) Species : human Affiliation : Catholic church, the Vatican, Sanctus Dei testis Annuntiatio Evangelii, Isten kegyelmének bizonyítéka Status : alive

Glenn Tenebress

Nickname : Glenn Age : 18 years old (beginning of the story) - 21 years old (ending) Species : human Affiliation : Catholic church, the Vatican, Sanctus Dei testis Annuntiatio Evangelii, Isten kegyelmének bizonyítéka Status : alive

Zion (styled as "Xion")

Born name : Adam Alias : Adam Zion Sangriento Nickname : Adam, Zion, Marquis of the Hungary, Duke of Transleithania, the Messiah Age : 1500+ years old (beginning of the story & death day) Species : vampire (methuselah) Affiliation : Sadisgate "Schwazer Anfang", Madam Zoftig's House of Exotica, Fekete Vér Hadsereg Status : deceased

Sharon Valadez

Nickname : M'Lady Sharon, Sister Sharon, St. Sharon Age : 35 years old (beginning of the story) - 38 years old (ending) Species : human Affiliation : Catholic church, the Vatican, Sanctus Dei testis Annuntiatio Evangelii, Isten kegyelmének bizonyítéka Status : alive

Loretta Bernadi

Nickname : Loretta, Sister Loretta Age : 26 years old (beginning of the story) - 29 years old (ending) Species : human Affiliation : Catholic church, the Vatican, Sanctus Dei testis Annuntiatio Evangelii, Isten kegyelmének bizonyítéka Status : alive

the description profiles might change since I'm still thinking about it but these are some core or major profiles~~

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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He'll Follow me Down Every Street, No Matter my Crime

PAIRING: John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You had an affinity for shiny objects. This time, a sting of pearls locked away in a mansion calls your name through the crowd of a party - only trouble? You have a hunch the man you help at the front door isn't all who he says he is.

WORDCOUNT: 11.9k

WARNINGS: Guns, blood, death, gore, heists, theft, suggestive mentions, mentions of sex, heavy flirting because reader's a tease, propositions of sex, drugs, the reader is loosely based on Cat Woman from DC, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wouldn’t call yourself a good person.

Life had given you the short end of the stick early on, taking what little you had in your grubby hands and shoving it into the ground, making you watch as they stomped on it until all that remained was a remnant of hope. Like a shard of glass, you held it even as it cut your palms open. But there was only so much that you could hold until you longed for more of it—until you wanted to take the broken bits and try and form a mosaic out of them.

It started as petty crime—the theft.

You got good at it. Very good.

You remember the first time you tried to pick a man’s pockets; aged fifteen with a switchblade in your pocket that you had never used before, bought off a man in exchange for cigarettes. When you’d been caught, the man—looking quite like Albert Einstein, mind you—had snapped your wrist so far back you heard it snap in two places. It still aches on cold days.

In that moment, a firm resolve had taken over you. A rabid understanding.

No one was ever going to do anything for you, and if you can’t rely on your skills to get you through, then you only had yourself to blame when it all went bad.

As you said, it started with petty crime. Then it got a bit more serious.

You dabbled with blackmail and multi-level schemes that involved all sorts of money and luxurious items. Extortion.

You considered yourself quite the salesperson, admittingly.

But personality-wise: arrogant, prideful, and vain. The list went on and with no near end in sight. It was life, was it not? You were finally able to live it lavishly even from the time you’d just gone past the border of the drinking age.

But the best part about it was that you were entirely alone. Alone in every sense—not even a cat or dog to your name, much less a person to care for or about. It was perfect.

Years of this went on, and you mean years. This was a job to you, and as you slipped into the hugging form of a deadly red dress, and rubbed your lips with the exact same shade—#4A0000 Oxblood—it was enough to make your pulse thump with excitement. The thrill of this made you want to never let it go; adrenaline junkie down to the jitters in your fingers when you first got the invitation.

‘On behalf of Victor Lawson, you are formally invited to his mid-autumn get-together at his estate. Enjoy such finery as a five-course dinner, open access to his ballroom and gardens, and the pleasure of the host himself who’s eager to have you over. This invitation is viable to bring a plus one. We look forward to having you. ’

It was perfect. Perfect.

Chuckling under your breath, you think of the items that Victor had in that mansion of his—the jewelry and the raw cut gems. Your particular interest was a set of pearls that his mistress wore, well, wife now. Affairs are such messy things.

Slipping into black heels and looking into the full-length mirror, you smirk slowly at yourself, glancing up and down. You were the picture of elegant perfection—like a woman born and bred into money. Your penthouse was layered with the remnants of your spoils, stories on every counter or vanity; engraved into the pieces of fine metal and stone you wear on your wrists and neck. Bleeding wealth. Everything you have you had lied for, but did lies not take more practice than truths?

You consider yourself an artist.

“Perfect,” you clip the heavy earrings to your lobes, seeing the skin droop at the weight of rubies. Brushing down your dress, you hum, clicking your tongue at the thought of how pearls would better compliment the outfit. “No,” you grumble, frowning in disgust. “Nearly perfect.”

Walking out of the fabric curtain you have to block off your room, your heels click against the marble floors, creating a large echo over the vaulted ceiling; the place had a coldness to it, really. A separation.

Not that you cared.

Grasping the modest wool dress coat from the coat rack, you slip it on with a huff and fix the collar; hand moving into the pockets to take out your silk gloves and move your fingers into them. Last was the purse—a small black leather handbag that you let hang off of its strap on your right shoulder like another limb. The invitation was kept safe inside of the wool.

One last breath to try and keep your cool and stop the constant smirk that tries to force its way onto your face, and you call the elevator to your floor before stepping into it.

“The pearls are in the office,” you say, inserting your key and pressing the button for the lobby. “His wife leaves them in the glass display case if that maid’s words are anything to go off of. And tonight,” you hum, finger grasping your phone from your purse and pressing into the front to unlock it. A social media profile pops up and you stare, eyes half narrowed in lustful pleasure. “She’ll be wearing her sapphires.”

Victor’s wife is pictured in blues and silvers, and you had to admit, it wasn’t the correct color scheme for a mid-autumn ball. But you supposed she wanted to be the center of attention anyway, so her plan if that was the case would pan out perfectly. No one wears a blue that shade this late into the season.

You drop your phone into your coat pocket and shrug, blinking slowly as the small waft of the elevator music is interrupted by the ding of the doors; that sudden lightness to your head shows that it has come to a stop. Stepping through the opening, you wave to the doorman and plaster a sickly sweet smile on your lips.

“I’ll be back soon,” you explain. “Don’t miss me too much, then.”

He grins like an idiot. “Yes, Ma’am! Here,” the man scrambles, “I’ll get the door for you.”

“Oh, lovely, thank you, Dear.” Outside is a nice chilled breeze, leaves moving over the street only a small distance of concrete away—your driver is waiting patiently outside of it, the tinted windows up and the engine already running.

Your body moves to it.

“Ma’am,” he nods.

“Hello there, Buck,” you blink slowly at him, politely reaching out an arm and squeezing. “So good to see you again—and the Misses?”

“At home resting, thanks to you.” You hum, dismissing the comment as the man pulls at the car handle and moves to the side.

“It was the least I could do. Such a horrible feeling,” your lips mutter, “getting sick. If I only have to throw some of my money to get people to listen to their patients, it’s money well thrown. Do tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

“Wonderful.” Sitting down on the seat, you carefully tend to your dress so it won’t wrinkle, picking at loose bits of wool from your jacket and gazing at your reflection in the glass. Such a vain little creature you’d grown into. Your eyes trail down your nose, lips, down the swell of your neck, and the bones of your face; running a finger over your cheek and trying to stop itching at the makeup you already long to take off.

But beauty takes time.

You’d look better with those pearls.

Buck gets into the car and locks the doors, and soon the entire vehicle is speeding off into the darkening sky. Your skin tingles with anticipation.

You enjoyed making those who’d broken the backs of others see a bit of your power when they realized you’d won, but the instances when you could go in and leave without a trace made you feel on top of the world. A woman with such a desirable position; an unforgettable ease of mastering a conversation.

It was addictive to watch them fumble around like idiots. Go crying to authorities about things they could easily buy again and again. It makes you want to never stop talking. Your fingers twitch at it—your heart pounds.

A sly fox’s smile comes to your lips, and you hum under your breath as the car brings you into the lion's den.

—

“Well,” Johnny grumbles, voice gruff. “I don’t understand why it needs to be me. Gaz looks better in a suit and everyone knows it.”

“Damn right I do,” the man in question replies, tossing a belt the Scot’s way, to which Johnny catches with no problem, slipping it into the loops of his dress pants with a heavy hand. “Don’t forget it.”

MacTavish's throat echoes with an unimpressed grunt, side-eyeing Kyle as he smirks. Grabbing the fly of his pants, the man runs it up, moving his feet to make sure he’s not stepping on any of the fabric.

“Garrick needs to be nearby in case of trouble. He’s your oversight.” Captain Price leans against the far table of the hotel room, glancing at his watch. “Five minutes, Sergeant.”

“Five bloody minutes,” Johnny groans, blinking as he tightens his belt. “Couldn’t at least have bought a bigger dress shirt? Suffocating over here, Sir.”

Ghost glances at him from where he stares out the window, arms crossed and fingers tapping his bicep. “You can blame Laswell for that.”

“Just make sure you don’t rip it in the middle of the party,” Gaz pats his shoulder, and Johnny glares, sighing out aggressively at the pull of fabric. The fellow Sergeant is smug and amused. “Can’t go in and bring you another.”

“Ah,” the Scot grunts. “Don’t worry, it’s just a little public embarrassment. Nothing I haven’t gone through before.”

“Story for us?” Simon utters, raising a brow.

“Not one I’m willing to tell.

John interrupts the banter session easily with a sharp command. “Alright, you can trade stories all you want later, we’re short on time and the driver’ll be here any minute. Soap,” Johnny blinks over, buttoning up his waistcoat and pushing the blue tie under it. Price stares, raising a brow, but his lips pause for a minute. “...Why are you wearing a bloody blue tie, Son?”

“What?” Johnny’s face pulls in, stubble shifting the scar on his chin. The sides of his eyes crinkle in. “Why’s that matter?”

John’s eyelids close for a moment before he takes a long breath and looks to the side, shaking his head. “No time,” he utters before coming back to it. “Go through it again, Sergeant. Slowly.”

“Target is Victor Lawson’s computer—located in his office at the back of the mansion. Three rights and a left is the fastest way there, barring breaking down the walls.”

“Good,” John grunts, seeing Johnny’s smirk at his joke. The Scot goes and grabs his suit jacket. “And?”

“One gun and a knife, hidden in the back garden with a silencer near the fountain,” the man licks his lips. Gaz passes over an earpiece which he hooks into his shell, clear and nearly invisible against his skin. “M9 with only one magazine. Fifteen rounds.”

“You don’t have to use it,” Simon weighs in. “In situations like these, opt for a knife. Less mess to clean up if you do it right.”

“Don’t want to think about the types of parties you go to, Lt,” Soap sends a sly smile the Lieutenant's way. “Think I’d shit my pants if I saw you at one. Mask or no.”

“I like parties,” Ghost says blandly back, blinking at him slowly. “They don’t skimp out on the appetizers.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Johnny mutters, moving back and hurriedly flattening out his suit. “Right! Time to get this over with, boys. I’m goin’ in—don’t miss me too much while I’m away.”

Price’s hand goes to rest on his shoulder, moving him out of the door as Kyle calls his good luck to him. The Captain moves a hand in emphasis on the words he ends up speaking.

“In the inside pocket, you have a USB,” he says, and Johnny’s blue eyes stare at him, serious with his lips flat. “We don’t need the entire system—just plug it into the box and let it do the work.”

“Rog.” Soap asks, “Anything I need to expect from this Lawson fellow?”

John grunts. “Negative. Man’s a drunk who likes to flaunt wealth, he’s in the background of his practice; has others do the dirty work for him. But we need his intel.”

“Then I’ll get it,” the Scot assures firmly, steel determination in his gut. “M’not so easily distracted, Price. It’ll be like takin’ a walk through the park.”

—

“I’ll be back soon, Ma’am,” Buck comments as he opens the door for you, sticking a hand out to assist you out to the red-carpeted grounds. “Call if you need to.”

“Thank you, Buck, I will,” you chuckle, nodding.

Walking past you run your hands over your jewelry, slipping your fingers up the inside of your wrist until you grasp the sleeve of your coat and pull it down more. It was growing colder out, and it was best to get inside the party as soon as possible. Already the air was thick with the noise of music and small talk, properly illuminated by lights that spilled out like water from a river.

Around you, the front entrance was guarded by the tall sentinels of rose bushes; decorations in the form of strung lights and pumpkins placed and carved to immaculate detail. The mansion itself was the biggest on the tree-strangled street, and cars were coming and going quickly; lights moving through the dark trunks.

Looking and walking slowly down the red carpet to the front entrance, your shoulder is lightly grasped.

“Ma’am?” You startle, head whipping around to the sound of a deep Scottish accent.

Your eyes lock with cobalt blues, a large man behind your form holding a piece of paper in his hand. You look at it quickly, the calloused and firm fingers extending the item.

He was in a black suit, and while you fight to raise your brow at the deep shade of blue for a tie, you find that the outfit suited his stocky build quite well. You could see the size of his biceps easily, and in the light, your face nearly went slack at them.

Not even mentioning the thighs.

“Apologies,” the stranger breathes, backing up a step and releasing you with a soft smile on his lips. “Saw this fall out of your pocket. I’d hate for you to lose it so close to the door.”

Staying silent for a moment, you quickly fall back on your natural charm.

“My pocket?” Your hand extends, brushing against the man’s own before lightly taking up the familiar shade of the invitation. You flip it over in your hands, eyebrows raising in slight shock. Your other hand pats down your coat pocket, finding no firmness besides the body of your phone.

“I didn’t even notice,” you chuckle lightly, focusing on the man ahead of you. A small flutter of upset moves in your veins. “Thank you very much, Sir. That would have been embarrassing.”

“Ah,” he shrugs his wide shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. And Johnny’s just fine, Dearie.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Johnny,” you move up and lean forward, lips shifting to leave a delicate kiss on the side of his cheek. Hearing a slight hitch in his breath, you hide your smirk, leaning back fully to stare into Johnny’s slightly widened eyes and the reddish sheen to his cheeks. He clears his throat, mohawked hair shifting in the breeze as he turns his head to the side for a moment. “You’re a lifesaver.”

You tilt your head.

“So, here for Victor’s party then?”

“Ah,” the man recovers quickly, nodding as you turn and begin a slow pace. The both of you stay near each other as the stairs to the front door get closer. “Yes, Ma’am. Have you…been to one before?”

You humph, shaking your head. “No way, I only ever go to these things once. Waste of time, in my opinion.” Your eyes send Johnny a glance to find him blinking at you in confusion. “What? You thought I would be all snobby about it? Most of the people here can’t even take back a shot correctly.”

A shocked chuckle exits the Scot’s lips, eyebrows raising on his face. A far more casual smile now takes form on his part.

“What are you even here for then,” he asks cheekily. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

You smirk. “The spoils of war, of course.”

“You’re strange, you are,” Johnny utters, but finds he can’t wipe the grin on his face for the life of him. In his ear, Price’s voice grinds through like iron.

“Soap, stay on schedule.”

He grunts, rolling his shoulders. Johnny’s thumbs go to rest in his belt, looping the brown leather.

“War’s a big word, Bonnie,” his blues glint.

“Would you prefer quarrel,” you dart back, and your spirits seem to enjoy this conversation some. The man was…new, so to speak. There was something different about him that you couldn’t place; he felt more layered than the normal people at these events usually came. Like you could speak to him for hours and only crack the surface. But, even by just his eyes, you could tell that he was intelligent. Very much so.

“That might be more your speed,” you end with a tilt of your head, jewelry lightly clinking against one another.

“I think you’d be surprised.” Your chuckle is smooth and easy to listen to.

“Perhaps.”

Johnny hums, smirking as he pulls ahead a tiny bit. “And what do I call you, exactly?”

“My name?” You find a hand in front of you when you make it to the stairs, and you mildly get thrown off by it. Blinking quickly for a moment, you recover and delicately place your hand into the Scot’s, smiling as he helps you walk up.

His flesh is warm, and you can feel it even through your gloves as it bleeds into you. A warmth that pushes back the chill of autumn, sending winter scampering like a dog with a tail between its legs. You ignore how your breath hitches at that action.

“You can just call me Cerise.” Is what you say as the doorman draws near and as Johnny stares with an intrigued furrow on his brow. Before the Scot can speak, you’ve already walked away, heels clicking and your purse swinging; hand whispering out of his like it was never there.

Blue eyes watch, but they quickly snap out of whatever trance was there beforehand.

There were things to accomplish—adrenaline was already taking hold in Soap’s bloodstream, making his focus hone in. While your conversation had been…interesting, and you were quite the beautiful woman, of course, he had a job to do.

But first, he had to get through the door.

As you were speaking with the doorman, easily handing over your invitation, the man slips his hand into his pants pocket to get it ready; voices from other guests all around.

But his hand touches nothing.

Immediately, Johnny feels his stomach drop.

“Where’s the fuckin’ invitation,” he hisses under his breath down the line, trying to keep his voice low. Soap’s eyes darted about on the ground, thinking that maybe he’d done the same as you and just dropped it. But no, nothing.

John’s hurried voice moves through the earpiece.

“Sergeant, don’t tell me you lost the fucking invitation.”

“It was in my pants!” He growls. “Bastard things that are making my thighs go numb.”

You’re none the wiser to the conversation in the man’s ear, only pausing when you hear the implication of something not going right. As the doorman takes your invitation and looks it over, you turn your head to the side and watch for a moment in confusion as Johnny pats his thighs and backside, hands over the pockets and his body turning in a circle.

“Johnny?” You call, walking towards him. The man freezes, eyes snapping back to you. You grab onto the tips of your gloves and begin taking them off, stuffing them into your coat. “Are you alright over there?”

His jaw is clenched, eyes simmering with annoyance. “Just fine, Hen, no need to ask,” your eyes narrow, slowly dropping to where the obvious lack of an invitation sits in his hands. “Just…uh, seems I’ve gone and lost something o’ mine.”

He goes back to whispering under his breath, throat bobbing with irritation that could rival even yours on a bad day. Even his cheeks gained a sheen of red to them, and not from the wind.

You blink, sighing under your breath.

You weren’t a good person, but you weren’t heartless either. The man had been good company, the least you could do was repay him. A good conversation is so hard to come by these days.

“Oh,” you play off with a chuckle, turning back around and speaking loudly. The doorman looks up at you quickly. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you about my boyfriend, Johnny.”

The air halts, and wide blue eyes snap to the back of your skull.

“It must have slipped my mind in all the excitement, you can understand how such a magnificent property just takes all of my attention.” You chuckle, pushing an embarrassed sheen to your eyes and body—hunching your shoulders in, gripping by the elbows, even bending your spine lightly forward to lean closer to the man. “It’s so beautiful here, I was so caught up in the decorations. He’ll be my plus one for the night.”

The doorman chuckles with you, glancing at the Scot who quickly clears his throat; taking this blessing for what it is and ascending the last steps in record time.

A hand hovers over the small of your back, a bulky body slotting beside your own. Your nose twitches to the scent of hair gel and…you pause, swallowing down saliva. Was that the tang of gunpowder?

“It’s just fine, Miss,” you blink back to the present. The invitation is put to the side. “You’re both welcome inside. Please, enjoy your time in Mr. Lawson’s estate.”

“We will,” Johnny grunts, nodding. “You have a good night, Mate.”

You smile politely, the two of you walking through the open doors. A pair of lips moves to your ear, the words said with low reverence.

“I owe you, Bonnie,” he pauses. “Big time. Nearly scuffed the entire thing.”

“We can’t have that,” you ease, voice like water. “Quickly, what’s your last name?”

You both walk side by side, yourself only stopping for a moment to shimmy out of your coat. Hands move to the back of the collar, helping.

“Last name?” Johnny asks, confused at the instant question. “Why?”

“They’re going to introduce us when we walk in—I need to know so I can tell the announcer.”

The Scot stares, holding your coat as you take your phone out and put it into your purse. He passes off the item to a man near a side door, who asks your name and scurries off when he has it.

“MacTavish, full first name, John.” He grunts, admitting, “There’s a lot more to this than I expected.”

“It’s all for show, Mr. MacTavish,” your hand moves to his arm, lightly taking him along with you and restraining the want to squeeze the muscle under your fingernails. The man was as built as an Ox—what did he eat?

“There’s always more to things like this,” you chuckle.

A small silence falls, but it’s broken when Johnny’s curious nature betrays him. The way you had lied to the doorman…it had been so natural for you it had made him pause now that he had the time to think it over. Hell, he’d half-believed you himself.

Price had even been silent in his ear since then, only a shocked grunt moving across the line. As you shift a hand-held mirror out from your purse and bring it up, looking into it, he speaks up.

“You were good at that,” the Sergeant mutters, looking around at the paintings and decorations in the hallway, hearing more people entering from behind. The noise echoes from ahead as well, the party in full swing. “It was quick-thinking on your part, any reason as to why you’d help me?”

A smirk flicks over your lips as you snap your hand-held closed, moving it back into your purse. “You’re asking if I want to get into your pants?”

Johnny nearly chokes. “N-no! Not at all.”

Your head tilts, side-eyeing him, heels hitting the floor and carrying your snake-like stride. Not once do you blink at him, studying; taking him apart. Johnny’s enamored by the way you do it.

He suddenly knew to be far more cautious around you than he had been previously. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he goes to push back his mohawk with a run of his palm over his hair. He licks his lips and turns his face forward with a heat writhing under the skin.

“It’s alright,” you explain. “I wouldn’t be opposed, but, unfortunately, tonight I have other things to fuck than you, Mr. MacTavish. Perhaps at a later date.”

The man is at a total loss, jaw as slack as a piece of paper in the wind.

But what shocked response he could give you is lost as you move into a far more open room, you both at the top of an overhang—pillars and a large chandelier, shining bright. Marble with real vines wrapped around banisters; tables full of food in such quantity it seemed excessive. But the people. Hundreds of them, all dressed their very best at the bottom of these double stairs.

Soap’s eyes went over all of them, studying faces in an instant and memorizing them for later. No Victor from what he could see…he just needed an excuse to slip away when everyone was occupied. He had to get to the garden first; get that knife and his gun that had been stashed. If it all came to worse, he couldn’t afford to get caught without one of them.

Gaz can only do so much as overwatch from outside.

You move to a woman at the left, smiling as you move to whisper into her ear your title and Johnny’s.

“Miss Cerise and her plus one, John MacTavish.”

The woman nods, and no later does she call into the crowd, moving her voice above the bob and flow of the conversation waves. Many of the men in the crowd choke on their drinks—eyes snapping up—at the mention of your moniker.

“The Miss Cerise and her plus one, John MacTavish.”

“Johnny,” you call, and the man blinks, seeing and immediately moving out his elbow so you can loop your arm through his. “I am curious about one thing,” you say as the scent of gunpowder returns.

“Yeah?” Soap asks, scanning the faces that now pause their speeches and look at the pair of you. He grows uncomfortable at the attention, but you seem to soak it up—particularly the glares from a few faces that you seem to be acquainted with. “What’s that then?”

“You’re not here for the party, are you?”

Bloody fucking Christ, who is this woman?

“What makes you say that, Bonnie?” He forces out, his muscles winding up; jaw working itself in a tight clench. The Scot’s stubble writhes with the force of it. Has he been compromised that quickly? Not possible. Johnny’s mind starts running, and Price gets into his ear to call a firm order to move away from you immediately.

But that would make your unblinking eyes worse, and Soap didn’t want that. The hair on his arms starts to rise, spine straightens like a stick. You felt it, feet going down the stairs without having to look at them, your head is stuck gazing at him.

“No offense, of course,” your voice even results in his feet wanting to disobey him, to turn your way. The way you spoke was hypnotic. A siren. Some womanly beast from long lost history, coming to haunt him when he had a job to do on a limited schedule.

You continue. “But you’re not right. You don’t fit into this crowd.”

“What?” Soap tries to push a flat joke. “Did my hair give it away?”

You study him, smirking. “No.” There’s no other explanation beyond that.

This was supposed to be simple.

Give him a gun and he’d be the most experienced shooter in this room; a jumble of cables? He’d have a homemade explosive in minutes.

But why the hell would they put him in a suit?

“Listen, Cerise, Hen,” Johnny levels, “I’d love to stay and talk, really, but I need to fuck off and find some of my friends. Thank you very much for the save at the door, but there are some things I need to take care of.”

“And here I thought I’d get to keep my fake boyfriend,” you pout, leaning into his side. He watches you tensely.

Your lips move in a laugh like a ringing bell. “But, yes, you’re right. I also have to take care of my entertainment for the night.” You move up to his cheek again, placing a kiss on his stubble as you both reach the bottom of the stairs. You whisper into his ear. “It was very nice meeting you, Johnny. Do tell me if you’ll ever take me up on the offer I gave you.”

Disappearing into the crowd, it’s like you were never there.

—

Johnny grunts as he tries to bend down, the fabric around his thighs and arms pulling tight enough to stop the blood in his veins.

“If someone doesn’t get me properly fitted,” he growls down the line, “you can find a new demolitions expert, Price.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sergeant.”

“It was short notice, Johnny,” a Manchester accent follows.

Blue eyes glared at the bag hidden beneath foliage, a hand snatching out and grabbing it quickly.

“Ghost,” Soap huffs. “Good of you to join us with our late-night heist.”

“Figured you could use the support.”

“Oh,” Johnny scowls, “always. ‘Specially when I have to get myself surgically removed from this piece of utter shite.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” With a shake of his head and a growing smirk, the Scot takes out the M9 and the combat knife. Moving to attach the silencer to the gun. Blue eyes scan the garden rapidly; on the lookout for any guests or guards walking near the fountain at his back.

“Alright, I’ve got the gun.”

“Knife?” Ghost asks.

“Affirmative, Lt.”

“You’ll be smart to use it away from any prying eyes. Neck leaves too much of a spray—go for the gut and cover the mouth until they stop moving.”

There’s a moment of rustling fabric as Soap shifts the gun into the small of his back, the back of his suit enough to cover the grip but restricting the ability for a fast draw. Simon was right—the knife was the best option for him.

“You are stone cold, Simon,” the Sergeant smirks, eyes gazing over grass and gravel as the knife finds a home up his right sleeve, resting against his forearm. “Price, has Gaz checked in?”

“Affirmative,” the Captain comes back on as Johnny stands, re-hiding the bag into the bush. “Says he has eyes on from the neighboring mansion’s roof. He’ll lose you when you go inside, but if you need any guards terminated, lead them outside and he’ll take care of ‘em.”

Soap nods, head swiveling and brushing down his front. “Copy. I’ll keep it in mind.”

But as he’s walking, the Sergeant pauses, dress shoes getting brushed by the grass. A bead of silence lingers on him like a needle into fabric, a nagging feeling like an itch at the base of his skull.

“Price?”

“What is it?”

“I need you to look into someone else at the party, calls herself ‘Cerise’.” Johnny can practically hear the confusion over the line and he moves on to explain as he walks farther into the garden. “See if there are any files with that name. I have a bad feeling, and I can’t place it.”

“The woman?” Simon’s voice enters his ear.

“Aye, her. The things she said…they’re stickin’ with me.”

“Hate to tell you, Soap,” Price sounds slightly amused in his dim monotone way. “But the things she says stick to most men.”

He growls, face going heated as his chest tightens. “I’m not speaking ‘bout any of that.” Johnny’s head swivels up to the balcony of the ballroom, trying to pinpoint his location from the maps he’d memorized prior. “I’m talkin’ about how she—”

Speech halts in a fast instant of a choked-off sentence.

A flash of red catches his eye.

“Johnny?” Simon asks over the earpiece, confusion in his tone. But with a slack jaw, Johnny can only watch in awe and shock at the woman currently breaking into one of the locked balcony doors. And he knew they were locked. The informant had said they would be.

It was you.

Red dress and moonlight over your flesh, you look around the balcony before bending and opening up your purse, fiddling for a moment with the contents inside.

“Johnny, sit-rep.”

Unblinking, Soap watches as you take something out, moving closer to the door and inserting it into the door lock.

“She’s fucking picking the lock,” Johnny breathes, his breath making a cloud on the air.

“Who, Sergeant?” Price asks.

“Cerise,” Soap huffs, his jaw closes slowly, blinking as a hand comes up to rub at the back of his head. Only a minute or so later, you move back from the door swiftly, stuffing your items back into your purse and standing. Hand going to the handle, you push into it…and it opens with no trouble at all.

Walking through, Soap gapes as the door closes silently behind you.

“She got in,” he relays, and he hears Price order for Simon to contact Laswell—possible hostile inside of the mansion. “How do I go about this, then?”

“We need that intel—neutralize her if she interferes.”

Something swirls in Soap’s chest, but as he hurries to the stairs up to the balcony after you, gravel stuck into the grips of his shoes. With a grunt, he says, “Copy, Sir.”

Reaching the very same door you’d just gone into, the man slips inside without a whisper, clicking off his earpiece.

—

You trail a hand along the wall at your side, keeping to the barrier and resisting the temptation to fill your purse with expensive pewter statues and whatever other bits you can fit. But you can’t fight off the feeling for long, and before you take a fast right on the way to the office, your noiseless hand snatches at a small statue of a knight and stuffs it into your bag. A low chuckle breeds in your throat.

As you pass mirrors, you gaze at your neck, trying to imagine the glint of pearl and the way they’ll feel over your flesh; sitting heavy with wealth and dripping perfection down to the golden clasp.

“Three rights and a left,” you go off the words from the maid, pausing when you hear the sounds of staff or security. Heels muffled on the thin carpet, your body slinks along like a cat, red dress trailing with all its dangerous intentions.

You’re only one last turn to the hallway of the office when you’re unceremoniously grabbed by the scruff of your neck.

Eyes snapping wide, a sharp inhale is muffled on your lips as a hand settles over your mouth, ripped back along the carpet and shoved into the wall with a rattle of picture frames.

Ignoring the sting of your spine and the fingers that find purchase around your flesh, you blink away the sheen of panic and lock eyes into familiar cobalt blues.

“Johnny?” Your voice is muffled behind skin, and your hand snaps up to his wrist when pressure is set over your windpipe. Shock flies to every other emotion available, confusion taking precedence.

His face is rabid with anger.

“Who the fuck are you?” The words are snarled on his accented tone—lower than the bottom of a canyon.

Physical interactions, in this sense, were never your strong suit, of course. You specialized in getting out before anything like this ever happened, not when a hand was around your throat and starting to put pressure. In fact, now that you thought about it, the man ahead of you would have absolutely no trouble snapping your neck in a second. Despite all of your pride, a bead of fear moved up your back.

Yet, you still glare with all the venom you can muster over the barrier of Johnny’s hand. The weight at your neck stays, but the one over your mouth moves to lean into the wall beside your head.

“Get your hands off of me, you brute,” your words are tight, nails digging into his skin and making indents.

The man can feel your pulse under his hand, the thump of your blood as he looms, glaring heavily. He wanted answers.

“I asked you a question, Bonnie,” his jaw clenches, eyes unblinking. “I think it’s in your best interest to answer it truthfully, eh?”

“And what about you then?” You force out, “I guess my hunch was correct, you’re not here for the party.”

“I have a job to do,” Soap snaps under his breath, eyes moving the hallway as your free hand delves into your purse slowly. “I have a feeling you’re lacking in that department, Cerise, whatever the hell that name bloody means.”

“It’s French,” you snarl, teeth bared, and feeling insulted. “It’s elegant.”

“It’s a load of bullshit. That’s not even your real name, you minx.” His hand tightens even more, and your eyes gain a sheen of panic as your throat closes—his hold was unbreakable just as is, a trained and dangerous thing. Trained? Who was he? What did he want with Victor’s estate?

Was he a thief like you, or hired security?

“Answer me!” His face moves forward, nose nearly brushing yours and breath puffing your face. “Who do you work for?”

“Work?” Your voice raises, confused and angry. “I fucking work for myself, asshat! Do you think I’d waste my time doing this for someone else? Those pearls belong with me.”

His eyebrows pull in, face tight.

You lash out with the pewter statue in hand, aiming for his head. Halfway there, the man’s limb beside your skull flashes out and you find your wrist captured, shoved back into the wall, and outstretched beside you.

Gasping at the pain that ricochets your bones, your hand drops the item in an instant. Your brows go tight with old wounds, the memory of your first attempt at pickpocketing sparking up along with the pinch of marrow.

“Not very bright, Hen,” Johnny’s voice is graveled, glancing at the statue as it bounces along the floor. His lips twist, expression shifting as he takes in your prior confession one word at a time. The attack hadn’t even phased him. The scar at his chin roaves, as he huffs out as the hold on your neck loosens, “Now what did mean pearls—?”

Your knee reems itself upward and connects with his crotch.

Balking back, Johnny’s spine bends, curling in as a long and loud groan enters the hallway—a curse hurled out soon after. Not planning on lingering, you bolt off, jewelry jingling, and lungs heavy in your chest.

“What the hell,” you gasp, taking that last left and staring at the large wooden door at the end of the lineup; fancy gold handle. Fingers shaking and neck aching, you hear the sharp call from behind you as your body gets to the barrier.

Yet, there’s no time to pick the lock. A curt bark moves along the walls.

“Cerise!”

“Fuck,” you draw the word out, quivering hand moving through your purse to find your picks.

Johnny rushes the corner, one hand still on his aching lower body and the other pointing down the hall.

“Get over here,” he snaps.

“Fuck you!” You snap, glaring. “Stop acting like there was anything down there for it to hurt!”

“I am five seconds away,” the man hisses, “from dragging you out of here by your arm and throwing you to the fuckin’ security. You’re a damn thief.” He says it with utter surety, knowing as he puts all the pieces together.

“I am a businesswoman,” you back up a step as he moves even closer, the bulk of his body intimidating now that you know what it could do to you. “And, apparently, you think it’s acceptable to toss one around like you’re trying to have sex with it,” your eyes flare, back going flat to the window behind you. Johnny looms once more, arms caging you in as they go beside your head and the fingers curl. Both of you bark at one another with, at present, no bite.

“I’m not opposed to fun, Mr. MacTavish,” your smirk is venomous. “But I prefer to do it when I’m not on the job.”

“Stop talking,” he snaps, eyes darting to your lips as your gut spikes with adrenaline. His front is nearly flush with yours. “This isn’t worth it—you’re wasting my time. I need to get into that office”

“Then let me go,” your lips are near his, brushing with every word. Now your silver tongue has something to latch onto. He wants to get into that office just as much as you do. “We can help one another.”

“You?” Johnny scoffs, tilting his head as footsteps echo down one of the nearest halls. “Help me? Sorry, Dearie, but after that stunt of kickin’ my fucking balls in, you’ll have to wait for ‘em to re-drop before I put any sliver of trust into you.”

“Tempting,” you huff, both of your teeth bared like dogs—not once do either of you blink away. “But you can’t get that door to move without me.”

Johnny raises a disbelieving brow, and you elaborate.

“If the pins aren’t all moved in under ten seconds, and the door opened, an alarm goes off,” the man stills above you, and you smile in pleasure. “All security in the area will come rushing down on you and your horribly styled hair,” he snarls, eyes flashing, but you continue, face triumphant. “And I hate to say it, Mr. MacTavish, really I do, but I doubt you can pick a lock better than me.”

Johnny glares still, and this time, it’s far more sharp. Something moves behind his blues; consideration or exasperation, you don’t know. Hell, you still don’t know what he’s going to do when he gets into the office. But this is an alliance between wild animals.

The man is about to open his mouth, jaw already loosening, when a loud, questioning, voice moves from the end of the hall.

Both of you freeze, pupils going tiny from where they stare into one another's. Even the blood in your veins slows to a near stop; shock so potent it renders you speechless. Someone was coming down the hallway.

“Is anybody down there?” A voice calls, echoing off the ceiling. There wasn’t anywhere to hide.

Johnny moves back immediately, a hand going to the back of his suit to try and grasp at something as you hurriedly blurt out, “Kiss me!”

The man flinches, anxious eyes narrowed. He blinks rapidly. “What?”

“You heard me,” you snap. Footsteps get closer and the Scot looks at you like you’ve gone mad.

“I am not fuckin’ kissing you, Bonnie,” he says bluntly, a chuckle on his lips. “No way on God’s green earth.”

“Do you want to get caught or do you want to play it off as a mistake?” Your hand moves forward and grabs at his tie, yanking him back to you. He barely budges, raising an unimpressed brow. “I swear to God, MacTavish, do not ruin this for me.”

The man glares, snapping, “I’m not the one that decided to kick a man in the dic—”

“Hurry up and kiss me!” No time.

Someone’s shadow cusps the visible part of the hallway, and you stare with a pleading expression, Johnny glances over his shoulder before he moves his hand away from the M9. With a deep grunt of disapproval, he leans forward swiftly and slams his lips to yours.

Gasping at the intensity of it, your face is smushed as the Scot’s hand comes up, grasping under your jaw and keeping you attached to him, the other stuck at your hip where it creases the fabric.

For a moment you even forget why he did it, and your body melts slightly as he huffs through his nose—your fingers finding his waist. He shivers as they dig in, and he pushes you into the wall, making the dichotomy of warm flesh and a chilled window leave your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head.

When your tongue brushes his lips, soft smacking meeting your ears, he hums, leaning into you harder. Neither of you fight it when your lips meet again and again, this time making your hand go to the back of his head, greedy mouth opening when he growls into your flesh. It’s nearly feral with clacking teeth and a massacre of senses. His fingers knead at your jaw slowly.

“E-excuse me,” Johnny rips himself from you, whipping around with a red face. Keeping you in front of him, his pounding heart makes his eyes blur for a moment, attempting to focus. You peek over his shoulder, face burning like a million suns, but a smirk forcing itself forward.

The man behind the mysterious Scot is older, and not part of Victor’s security at all. Just a partygoer who had gotten lost along his way. How he even got back here through the main way without being spotted was something of an achievement, you supposed.

He stutters into the heated air. “Sorry to…erm, interrupt, but I don’t suppose you two know the way to Mr. Lawson’s garden?”

The both of you are brainless for a second, Johnny’s hand still on your hip.

“Two lefts and a right,” you utter on swollen lips, eyes smug. “Door’s already open.”

He hurries off, without a glance behind him, and silence falls again.

You blink at the man now suddenly unable to meet your gaze, backing off of you like you’re made of red fire. Your head tiles even as molten heat rages in your bloodstream, pounding in the base of your throat.

“My, my, Johnny,” you draw out, leaning closer as he sends sharp glances. “I’m impressed, who knew you had that in you?”

“Stop it,” he ends the subject, voice fast and firm.

“And here I thought you’d be a bad kisser. Very attentive to a woman’s needs.” You smirk, slinking past him and muttering in his ear, “Gold star for you, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Get the door open before I change my mind!” He snaps, but you aren’t put off by the darkness of his eyes.

You raise your hands, tossing a look over your shoulder.

“How did I know you’d be so pushy?” The man’s jaw moves as it clenches, nose twitching. He runs a hand over the back of his neck and glares.

You kneel, opening your purse and snickering as you grasp the picks and twirl them between your fingers. They were metal—long and bent to be inserted into the lock and manipulated until you found the correct sequence of pins inside of the mechanism. Inserting the first pick, you take and turn the knob slightly to the left, keeping it like that as you hurriedly insert the second.

“Ten seconds,” Johnny utters, watching closely as his anger simmers down to annoyance with you. Yet, he can’t deny that he liked that kiss, either. “Bastard has a lot to hide.”

You hum under your breath, face close to the door and ear twitching with each click. “Not for long.”

White pearls glimmer in your mind.

Feeling around, the pressure from one pin to another is easily definable to you—years of practice moving from brain to brawn flooding out. With every bit of loose metal identified, the handle is moved by the first pin to keep them from slipping back down.

“Five seconds,” the man behind you forces out, looking back from you to the hallway, anxious about getting caught.

“Do shut up,” you sigh harshly, head tilting. “Stop breathing down my neck and make yourself useful.”

“Doing what,” he grunts, blues getting stuck at the back of your scalp.

“Hand near the door,” your voice is easily forced to sound hurried. “You need to push it open, shoulder and all.”

“When?” He barks, already rushing to hover his large limb over your head. You finally get the small snap of all of the pins in place, a click of achievement.

Your heart skips a beat, yet you say casually, “Now.”

He nearly barrels it down, and your eyes widen as he moves through with the force of a bull, your left-behind form kneeling as the man’s shadow dashes. You blink a few times, brows pulling in with distaste.

While you should have been happy, all you do is stare with a raised brow at Johnny as he stops the inside handle from making a dent in the wall, head on a swivel.

“I said to push it open, MacTavish,” you grunt, standing. “Not bring it down, you idiot.”

He turns as you fix your clothes, taking out your compact mirror once more and running your hands along your neck; slinking into the office. Johnny huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Forgive me, Cerise, if I didn’t want the entire bloody party comin’ to me.”

You wondered if now was a good time to tell him you lied about the alarm but decided it was better to hold off until you had your prize. The less he knew, the better.

“Yes, yes,” your voice is low, “are you going to tell me what you want with this place or am I going to be left in a well of intrigue?”

“You’re not gettin’ a peep out of me, Dearie,” he levels looking around slowly—always keeping an eye on you. Johnny doesn’t trust you, but, hell, you don’t trust him.

Shrouded in mystery.

You shut the door behind you, gazing with glee at the expensive decor and knick-knacks. Was that a gold statue of a deer, you spied? Oh, that would fit just perfectly on your foyer’s side table. Pity you can’t just carry it out of here.

“Such a tease,” you hum, sauntering like a fox over the hardwood. “But I have to admit, John, I don’t care a large deal. You’re not important to me.”

“Likewise, Thief,” he grumbles, eyeing the way your hips sway with every step.

There’s the click of a safety going off, and before your fingers can card along the glass case set into the side wall, keeping velvet boxes in their clutch, you freeze. The door’s lock is reinstated.

Eyes still, you stare at Johnny’s reflection in the glass, heart slightly pounding faster. His face is staring, lips pulling into a smirk.

“As much as I’m just loving our little session, Ma’am, I just need you to understand something, yeah?”

You don’t speak, don’t blink. You hate to admit it, but you feel a droplet of unease as it enters your bloodstream. Had he had a gun this entire time? Your eyes find it now, an M9 hanging from his right hand. It’s black body and the long silencer, an image of death if you’ve ever seen one. You’re not new to guns—no, no, not with how you’ve chosen to live your life; the world you’ve taken by the throat and throttled. But getting threatened with one never became easier.

“I think I understand just fine,” you say, smoother than you feel. Shifting your head, you look over your shoulder, raising a brow. “I have business to attend to, MacTavish. I suggest you do the same.”

“I can’t have witnesses,” you laugh, shrugging. Your hands go to the clasp of the glass cabinet, flicking it to the side with a slide of cold metal.

“And I can’t go without these pearls, do you expect me to care about what you can or can’t have? My needs outweigh yours.”

A low rumble. Johnny’s hips shift weight, and that gun still hasn’t risen from the side. He wasn’t going to shoot you, though you recognize that it may be a bit of a shock to him as well as to yourself.

“I very much doubt that,” enters the air with an accented drawl.

“Doubt it, then,” your bluntness is cold and precise, attention already taken as you move to grasp one of the jewelry boxes, pushing the top open with a squeak of the tiny hinge. A silver sigil ring meets you, and your lips twitch at its shimmering material. “Just stay out of my way.”

“Bloody fuckin’ bastard,” the Scot utters under his breath, shaking his head harshly before his feet take him to the desk set near the back. He allows you to stuff your purse to your fancy, even as his mind screams at him to just put a bullet in you and end this—there wasn’t time for games. Certainly not ones played with a damn fox like you.

The memory of the kiss still sears the man’s brain, until Johnny thinks of every interaction you two had had over this fast-paced and stressful night.

But now it was time to hone in. Clean-up later.

“Price, I’m in the office,” Soap mumbles through the line, clicking his earpiece back.

“Good,” the reply is swift. Johnny ignores your small intrigued look, not commenting on the amount of valuables you suddenly have bulging out of your purse. Like a kid in a candy store. The sight is almost enough to make him smirk at you. “Insert the USB and let it do its work. Should take a few minutes—hunker down and assess the exits. There are three floor-length windows behind the curtains; if it comes to it, break through and drop into the pool below.”

“Swimming lesson?” Soap jokes, patting his inner jacket pocket and producing a small black USB stick.

“Eager, are you, Sergeant?”

“Not particularly, Sir.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Ghost joins on, dry response adding to the choir of strange humor.

Johnny’s fingers move to plug the USB into the port, hearing the click of it inserting and stepping back as lines of code jump across the now illuminated screen—files pop up and disappear just as quickly, and the blinking light on the stick tells him all he needs to know about if it’s working or not.

“Johnny,” Simon pipes back in, and the man shifts his body to the side, hand coming up to his earpiece on reflex.

“What is it, Lt?”

Across the way, your eyes glint.

Lieutenant? So the man’s military? Jesus, that changes things. I thought he was just some guy trying to get dirt on someone he disliked. Business partner, maybe. But military?

Your shoulders get a bit more tense, but it doesn’t stop your fingers from brushing your real prize—the last box inside of the case; red leather. It was all but calling your name like a veiled ghost of lust.

“Got a hit for a file with an Unknown, alias ‘Cerise.’ Laswell dug through the records.”

“Do you?” Johnny licks his lips, feet backing up a step and swinging his weapon. “Lay it on me, then.”

“Not much to relay—multi-year investigation, borders on some of their top classified cases for untouched HVTs. Don’t even have a description. String of high-caliber thefts, blackmail, extortions, and suspected of multiple murders to end it all off. Woman’s been busy.”

“Well,” Soap draws, tilting his head with raised brows. “Isn’t that just lovely?”

But the last part stuck with the Sergeant—murders? Call him naive, but you didn’t seem the type for that.

Blue eyes linger on you, slipping up and down with a twitch in their lids. He sees your face light up as you pop open a jewelry case; lips peeling in a violent smile as the round bodies of elegant and expensive pearls meet the light. Hell, Soap nearly hears you squeal.

Murder? But he knows that looks are deceiving.

He addresses Price, peeling his eyes away and taking a long breath. “Any advice, Captain?”

“She’s not the mission. Get what we need and get out.” It wasn’t shocking.

“And Gaz?”

“Still on overwatch—getting antsy. Says there are more security patrols in the gardens but they haven’t done anything more than speak to an old man.”

Johnny blinks. “Say again, Sir?”

“Old man,” Price repeats. “Have him out by the gardens, moving about; asking questions.” A pause. “Why?”

“We might have a problem,” Soap growls, and not a second later there’s news being relayed.

“They’re moving up the stairs into the mansion, Soap.”

“Fuck me,” the Sergeant snaps, rushing to pull at the curtains behind him, seeing the pool far below—it would take a bit of a jump to land a safe distance from the concrete, but there were limited options.

Making out in a hallway pretending to be horny partygoers wouldn’t fix this.

You glance over at the ruckus, in the middle of clipping your prized necklace over your flesh, feeling the weight of it against your collarbone. The sensation of pleasure was so overwhelming your gut swirled with achievement like a storm at sea.

It was perfect.

Staring long at yourself in the glass reflection, your smile is wide and sharp—uncaring to the Scot’s sudden anxieties. You had your pearls and a few extra treasures, that was all that mattered to you. All that was left was your escape. Taking your phone out of your stuffed purse, you text Buck and tell him you’re ready for a pick-up and to park a little way down the street.

‘Need to walk the drinks off a little bit,’ is what you type, before hitting a firm send with a smirk.

Moving backward, Johnny still speaks hurriedly into the earpiece you had deduced that he has, and has probably had since the evening began. Fast-clipped sentences, and glances to the whirring computer, the USB stick you see inserted into its body. Your curiosity has always been your downfall, but you weren’t about to mess with whatever heist this was; especially involving the military and their forces.

That was a cat you didn’t want to drag out of the bag.

Making your way to the door, your hand is just about to grasp at it when you full-stop. Blinking slowly, your head tilts, your ear twitching to hear the muttering from beyond the barrier. With a moment of understanding brewing, a hand lands on the back of your neck and yanks you back, dragging you like a toddler for the second time tonight

Before you can shout at the brutish man, a hand is once more over your mouth, and a voice in your ear. Was this really the only way he could figure out how to keep you quiet?

“No speaking—you’ll just give away our position.”

You glare, unimpressed, until he releases you—blue eyes firmly leveled on your face in order.

“Keep it shut,” he harshly whispers. As your mouth opens, he raises a finger and clicks his tongue, moving away quickly as you stare past in insult. Jaw loose, your eyes glint with hatred, growl in your throat as you turn after him.

“I’m not fucking three, you asshat!” You exclaim under your breath. “I bet I’ve gotten out of more situations like this than you have. And would you quit dragging me everywhere?!”

The handle across the way is jiggled, Johnny glancing at the computer screen in desperation. It wasn’t done yet. He scoffs, face twisting.

“Debatable.” You vehemently roll your eyes, looking around the room. This wasn’t exactly good—but it wasn’t unsalvageable. Looking at the woodgrain of the door like a plotting snake, you decide you could always play it off as one of Vicor’s multiple affair partners. He had scores, no way the man could remember them all. Tell security that he’d invited you here to discuss child support or hush money; that had to be fair play.

You hum under your breath, sighing. How would you explain Johnny? A lover? Bodyguard? Your mind runs through scenario after scenario, until a large knife is shoved right in front of your face. You balk back with a choking sound, startled like a bird on a line.

“Take this before I change my mind,” Johnny grunts, grasping at his gun firmly.

Your eyes stare with a sneer at the combat knife, which wiggles as the man’s hand shakes it impatiently.

“I’m not taking that—are you mad?”

Soap’s face is as stubborn as stone. “I’m not leaving without my intel, and neither are you.” A look is thrown up and down your body which makes you straighten, heels situating themselves below you. “You wanted to be here, Dearie, so you can’t back out now, can you?”

“If I was here alone, none of this would have gone wrong,” you get into his face, eyes deadly. The door shakes as someone runs a shoulder into it—loud shouting from the hallway.

“You’re a vain little minx that plays mind games because she thinks it’s fun,” Johnny hisses, breath atop of yours and eyes unblinking. “Mind yourself, you hear? This is bigger than a necklace, you vain creature.”

You huff. “It’s funny you think I care.”

“Little—” The computer beeps, and Johnny’s head whips back around as the frame of the door begins to crack.

The USB’s light glints a steady green, and then goes off, just as the computer screen blackens.

“Price!” Soap barks. “USB is done uploading, I need intel from Gaz, now!”

“Everything below the window is clear, Sergeant—get out!

“I need something to protect the damn thing from the water,” the man is already moving back, gun clattering to the desk as he opens drawer after drawer for anything—even just a little bag of—

“Holy shit,” you laugh, picking up something that had fallen to the floor in Johnny’s rabid search. “Victor was getting up to it.”

Cocaine baggie—the Sergeant snatches it from you.

“Woah,” you huff. “Wasn’t aware you had an affinity.”

“I am beggin’ you to keep your trap shut.”

“Ooo,” you smirk, eyes shimmering. “I like that.”

Johnny seethes like a dog, looking at you as he dumps out the drug and rips the USB out, shoving it inside as white powder hits his dress shoes. From there, the thing gets shoved into his pocket with a heavy hand.

“Come here,” he takes you by the arm, pulling. With his other, he grasps his M9 once more. Your annoyingly smooth voice in his ear is a constant knife right to his brain.

“Of course, Handsome.”

“Sergeant, for the love of God, tell me that Cerise isn’t in that room with you.” Price’s voice interrupts the two dogs at each other's throats, baring their fangs with sharp intentions.

Soap tilts his head harshly, moving to the window with you beside him. For whatever reason, he fights his senses to leave you here to be caught.

“Then I won’t tell you, Sir.”

“Fucking hell, Soap.” The Scot huffs, smirk at his lips.

“In a worse way because of it, too.” His hand tightens on your arm and you only chuckle, fingers to your mouth as heat moves up Johnny’s neck. He clears his throat, looking away, muttering to his Captain. “Won’t bloody leave me alone.”

“Awe,” your free hand captures his bicep, running up the fabric of his suit jacket. “I’d never leave you alone, Baby.”

Soap suppresses a whole-body shiver, your heated kiss still strangling him every second he gets a whiff of your perfume. His feelings towards you were strange; potent like a snake to a mouse.

The worst part was that he didn’t know who was who in this equation.

Releasing you, your body jostles at the sudden lack of a brace, but you recover with a laugh and a raise of your brow.

Johnny takes his gun and sends four rounds into the glass.

Yelping, your hands go to your head, covering your ears and slightly ducking.

“Time to go, Sunshine!” Your waist is gripped, legs jerked up with a grunt. All at once your eyes widen, your brain understanding the total lunacy that’s about to take place.

“Wait!” You shout just as the front door is busted down. “I’m wearing tangerine quartz—i-it can’t get wet!”

He’s already in mid-air, a smirk on his face, peeling back the stubble on his cheeks as his body crashes through the broken glass.

There’s the sensation of flying, briefly experiencing what a bird lives before gravity takes over, stealing you just as it does your stomach. You yell sharply, but that’s all you get above Johnny’s heavy chuckle before water enshrouds you both. It sloshes over your head, and takes you down into its depths; chlorine makes your eyes burn before you snap them shut.

You’re taken by the first thing that strikes you as your waist is pulled back to the surface—Johnny hiking you upward with your back to his chest.

Who keeps water in the pool this late into autumn?

Gasping as your head breaks out of the water again, your nails dig into Soap’s wrist, loud commotion from far above, and the screaming of orders.

A bullet whizzes past your face.

“I’m going to need Gaz on this!” Johnny shouts, unwilling to let you go as his legs begin kicking, water running through his hair and flowing off of his nose.

There’s a muffled call before one of the security guards from the office window is struck in the head, a spray of red popping from the burst container of his skull—body slumping out of the hole. He hits the ground with a slapping crunch as you pant on fast breaths.

Getting forced back along with Johnny, you curse in the open air at the sight, eyes wide as your dress is utterly ruined by the pool.

You’re tossed upward, body grunting and skidding along the concrete as your palms slap the ground. Scrambling up, Johnny pivots with you behind him, taking his M9 and leveling it up, firing off a few rounds before the sound of your rushing heels strikes him.

Soap calls to you, but you’re already speeding away to the tree line, water leaving a long trail as you sprint to the best of your ability. The pearls around your neck glimmer, slapping against your flesh.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, heart rushing like a lion. “What the fuck!”

Grass moves near your feet, the estate slashing by—gunshots still echo, those loud booms moving over the night; you even hear the loud panic of the party, beginning to understand what they’re hearing.

Stumbling on a rock, your palms skin themselves along the ground, but you don’t wait to think about the sting. You push back up and keep running.

“Cerise!” Soap barks, running after, looking over his shoulder as his earpiece is full of loud orders.

A hand swipes at the back of your arm and misses as you pivot and grasp your purse strap, swinging it around until it slams into Johnny’s head.

“Fucking hell!” He snarls, hand raising to shield himself as you do it again.

“You’re crazy!” You yell, mind stuck on blood and bursting heads. Your purse is in the air, swinging from your raised hand; feet still backing up from the bulky form.

Blue eyes blink at you, occupied with both looking behind for pursuers and shots as you both move into the trees rapidly, circling one another even while escaping. “You’re shooting people?!”

“It’s my mission!” Johnny shoves out, jerking out a hand. “We need to leave—now!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” You yell, looking him up and down, backing up, and bringing your purse close to your chest.

Both of your eyes lock in a battle.

“Bonnie,” the man levels, “You’re not staying here with them—they’ve seen your face.”

“I like my chances better when I’m alone,” you swallow down your tone, evening it out to emanate the confidence that you always try to carry like a sword. You’re not going with Johnny—not now. Now you had to go through aliases; move again—run like a petty criminal. You had to hide your valuables and get your finances together.

Staring, you pant, water dripping from your nose.

You needed to disappear again.

“Don’t be a bloody fool,” Johnny hisses, moving closer. “C’mon, we need to leave.”

“You’re right we do—go, then.” It’s final. “I’m not following you anywhere,” your eyes darted his form, remembering how his weight had pressed you into your wall. “Enjoy your intel, Mr. MacTavish, but I have my own affairs to deal with.”

You slip your purse strap over your body and unclip your heels, dangling them by your finger as you stand back to full height with a deep breath. You’re scared now—nervous. Being around guns was one thing, but watching someone get shot was another.

No one was supposed to die tonight; you’re shaken.

“Cerise,” Soap opens his mouth, annoyance in his veins. But he looks into your eyes and pauses, seeing the fidgeting, the flightiness. The man stills, glancing at your visible heartbeat, gobsmacked.

You were afraid. The woman who’d smirked when he’d pushed her into a wall—the woman who had no terror of getting caught. Afraid of him.

He backs up a step raising his hand.

“Hey,” Johnny eases, lowering his tone. You don’t change your attitude.

“No, MacTavish,” you clench your jaw. “This is where our game ends. For good.”

Eyes lock; stare. They dig and they stay still, night aflame with chaos. The game had been fun, but, Soap knew the truth about this as well as you did. It was felt in the very air along the vibrations. He can’t drag you along back to the Exfil point—it would bring nothing of it but wasted time and energy. There wasn’t any time, and even as his instincts told him to level the barrel of his weapon with your skull…he couldn't do that.

He had to let you go.

There aren’t any words spoken; none said in parting or goodbye—in all accounts, the two of you don’t even know if you like one another. Both of you would aggressively deny any such thing, even if the pair of you were absorbed in how one another feels rubbing your hands along clothes. That dig; that pull.

In the end, you turn, and you disappear into the trees, rushing to circle back to the front of the property where Buck will be waiting down the road. Your heart patters, your jewelry bouncing, and your purse full of your stolen quarry.

In the end, blue eyes watch you for a long moment.

And then Johnny backs into the shadows of night, and neither of you seemed to have ever existed at all.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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azzifuddsgirlfriend · 8 days ago

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Ok I’ve never seen anyone with the same pazzi timeline as me so here it is lol also this is long asf and very detailed (yes I’m bored)

I think Paige prob had a crush on Azzi first, especially with her being a little bit older she might have already known she liked girls before meeting Azzi. I think Paige was probably azzi’s “gay awakening” if you will lol. But I think Paige might have even seen Azzi/thought she was cute before they officially met given how interconnected the basketball world is plus there was something on here about them having an overlap in Atlanta I think about a year before they officially met. But I think they became more than friends sooner than most people seem to think. I think they became more than friends (talking/fwb/situationship) whatever you want to call it, like almost immediately after meeting. Paige seemed to really be glued to Azzi during team USA era. So I think they became “more than just friends” in like 2017/early 2018. But especially being so young (Azzi would have been like 14/15 and Paige 15/16) and being long distance, and basketball being your #1 priority, AND coming to terms with your sexuality so young and with another person can make things complicated. But I believe they were only talking to/seeing each other all throughout high school. If someone tries to mention vinnie hacker to me, my answer is I just think Paige was trolling tbh 😭. But she obviously wasn’t out to the public yet in hs, and still isn’t technically but I mean it’s obvious lol, bc of her saying a guy as her celebrity crush in an interview I think her senior year. But I mean most of her family and close friends prob knew ab her and Azzi in hs given how close p & a were and how often they saw each other, while living states away. But yeah I’d say around 2020ish it became more serious, especially quarantining together they kinda got to play gfs/house together. I’m not quite sure if they were officially gfs at this time or just non official gfs, but I mean I’ve never named someone I’m just talking to or just fwb with as “💗” or called them my other half if we weren’t dating so… I think even when Paige first got to college they were just seeing each other bc of Azzi commenting how she missed Paige or something on tik tok and how she wanted to see her. Plus with Paige recruiting Azzi so hard I don’t think she would do that if they had “broken up” lol. But I guess sometime Paige’s freshman year she might have talked to other people. I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened or if it didn’t happen tbh. I’ve never seen solid proof of her talking with anyone else and I feel like if someone was talking to someone so famous we would all know about it lol. What I’m trying to say is she might have talked to other ppl but wasn’t really in a “talking stage”/in a relationship with anyone else ever. Also they both pretty much liked all of each others Instagram pics through hs and college so I don’t think they ever had a big fight/argument/falling out/breakup or whatever you want to call it. But yeah from my personal experience being so young and seeing a girl can kinda be confusing as to how that dynamic works (ex: who asks who out? How does it become official? Should we even tell anyone?) so it was probably just a kinda known thing that they were together in hs/early college years without the official label. But they both might have seen/talked to other people in like 2020/2021 but I don’t think they ever stopped seeing each other. Also I honestly would not be surprised if either of them have never really talked to/seen other people either so idk. But I think around mid 2022 (so like Azzi going into her sophomore year and Paige her junior year) they became officially girlfriends. This being because of how they interacted/posted with each other. Like the pic in Paige’s photo dump on tik tok of the old man with the flowers and her saying “how I’m trynna be” was crazy lol. So yeah and obviously the longer they date the more serious and obvious it’s going to be for the public and this summer idk if they had a conversation about being more open or if it just happened naturally that way but it’s quite obvious that they are together and have been for awhile.

#pazzi #paige and azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #wbb

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reareaotaku · 1 year ago

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headcanons for trevor spengler from ghostbusters??

Hmm... I've never personally seen that movie, but I'm pretty sure I know what/who you're talking about

Not good with jokes. He tries to tell you some and they always land flat [But that might have to do more with him not knowing how to act around you because of his crush]

He lied about his name when you made a joke about how silly the name 'Trevor' was when Phoebe was telling you about the guy she met named Trevor

He gets really awkward around you and stutters over his words

Will come to your job when he knows you're working and be surprised when you're there

"Oh my god, Y/n? You work here? Wow, what a coincidence." [Elbows Phoebe when she almost calls him out on the lie]

"Uh, yeah. My dad owns the restaurant" [He already knew that, but still acts surprised]

Grade A stalker

Phoebe called him out on it and he tells her to shut up or he won't drive her anywhere [She quickly shuts up] [She's a little bit of a stalker herself, but she'd never admit it]

He lied to you about his age, because he freaked out and didn't want you to think he's some loser

Though, you do find out how old he really is when he gets arrested

"Why'd you lie about your age?"

You were more confused than angry about being lied too

"I freaked out"

You're still confused, but you decide not to push it any further

"You know, if you needed a ride, you could of asked. I would have given you a ride."

"You have a car?"

"And a license. Plus an up-to-date registration"

"I've never seen you driving a car-" [How could he not know you drive and have a car?? ]

You blush, looking away from him, because you're kind of embarrassed. "Well... I mean, it's, uh... It's a fixer upper kind of car-"

"So, it's a piece of shit." [He hadn't meant to be rude, it just kind of came out.]

You chuckle, "I prefer fixer upper, but yeah... Kind of. It's a '98 Honda Accord. It's really good on miles." [ You then start to ramble, trying to justify the car, because you felt kind of offended by his comment]

"Yeah!" He interrupts you mid rant, causing you to stop and look at him confused and he continues, "I mean- Yeah, if I need a ride, I'll call you"

"Good. It'd make me feel better knowing you're safe."

He's losing his mind when you say that. You care about his safety??? God, his face is probably red as a tomato

Grows a mustache to try and impress you; Saying he's a 'man'

You just think it's funny and he quickly shaves it

#trevor spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters: afterlife #trevor spengler x reader #yandere trevor #yandere trevor spengler #yandere trevor spengler x reader #yandere x reader #yandere horror #yandere imagines #yandere ghostbusters x reader #yandere ghostbusters #ghostbusters x reader

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justmeinadaze · 7 months ago

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Secret Underneath Part 6 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: No cliffhanger this time, I promise <3.

Warning: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, No smut in this one today, ladies and lads. I didn't feel like it worked with this chapter. I was going to make this one long chapter but I thought it better to split it :)

ANGST, Y/N confronts them about the events of the last chapter. Insecurities get in the way of them and that is explored a lot more in this chapter with mentions of their dads as well as Gina hurting them. She is sullying their image by saying lies (mentions verbal abuse and comments on how the plus size reader is "probably being used" by them because of how she looks) , she does have an incident at a bar with a guy being a dick, they defend her.

Word Count: 4853

Series here/ Donate to Me :)

You broke a rule.

You went on Google and searched for their lawyer’s information through news outlets spouting anything they could in regard to this case. After finding what you needed, you charged into the building and past a secretary who was shouting for you to come back as you opened the door to a conference room where many sets of eyes including their shocked expressions landed on you.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need a moment alone with these boys for a moment.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, she just stormed right past me—”

“No, no. It’s alright, Crystal. Um, let’s take a breather and we’ll be back in a moment.”

As soon as everyone had filed out, your angry eyes burned into them as you slid your phone across the table.

“That thing hasn’t stopped going off since Gina released your names and quite frankly I’m afraid to look at it.”

“How did you find out where we were?”, Steve asked as he rose to his feet.

“I googled your lawyer’s name.”

“Well, so much for that promise.”, Eddie sassed as he leaned back in his chair.

“And so much for your promise to take care of me!”, you screamed not caring if anyone heard. “Did you really fucking think that I could stay out of this?! Did you think after what she said people weren’t going to wonder and dig into why I was with you at that party?!”

“You wanted to go and we warned you of the risks of being seen with us.”

“Don’t you dare do that! Don’t you fucking dare place blame on me! I don’t care about being seen with you or if people know that we’re together! What I care about is my job, those kids, and you two!! How can I properly help and protect myself if I don’t have all the facts?! Do you know what she’s saying? She’s saying you two promised to take care of her if anything ever happened. That you were verbally aggressive with her and--”

“Yeah, Y/N, we’re aware of she’s claiming.”, the mogul growls. “Since you’re doing your own research did you go on her social medias? Oh, a lot of fun material there. Now that a fucking judge allowed her to talk about us she’s been posting nonstop about how Eddie would demean her and make her feel ugly. That I apparently offered her money to get plastic surgery to make her look ‘perfect’.”, he sarcastically laughs.

“You should have told me.”

“Because you think we did what she claims?”

“No, Eddie! Fuck, so I can prepare. What if parents suddenly feel like I can’t teach their kids because of the company I keep? What if the school decides that my association with you isn’t worth the attention? Now that this has come to light I need to be aware of what’s going on!”

Neither man said a thing infuriating you more.

“Did you not tell me because you thought I wouldn’t want to be with you? Or did you think I’d hurt you like she did?” You laugh as you shake your head. “Jesus. I thought you two were different but you’re just like every other scared little boy. I thought I had given you enough reason to trust me but I guess not.”

“Yeah so why don’t you fucking leave then, you little brat.”

You weren’t sure if they saw it in your eyes but you definitely felt your heart break. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you back away towards the door.

“I’m so stupid.”

When your teary eyes met theirs, you could tell Steve regretted his words but he couldn’t take them back. They couldn’t take any of this back. Furiously, you reach into your pocket and throw their apartment key across the table before leaving the way you came.

##############

Instagram:

IHateithere: “Oh my god. Poor Gina!”

NeverHave_IEver13: “She’s so sweet and deserves better.”

CorrodedGirl28: “Fuck Gina Frost. This isn’t the first time she’s made claims against a partner! I met Eddie Munson backstage at one of his concerts and he was so sweet.”

E!News: Mystery Woman seen at the Charity Event with Steven Harrington and Edward Munson has been cited by the men’s lawyers as ‘just a friend.’

Twitter:

ElderEmoKid91: That poor friend of theirs. No matter what people will think they dated because of Gina.

ChaosRains: ‘Their friend’? Yeah right. Probably as much of a whore as Gina Frost!

JusticefortheUnheard: I bet if this was a man with two women he’d be slated as a ‘hero’ but because it’s a woman with two men she’s a whore. Grow up!

Steve Harrington: Eddie and I are saddened to hear that not only has our privacy been violated but Gina Frost is allowed to continue spreading her lies until we get this matter resolved. We never once raised a voice or hand to her and took care of her like any boyfriend would which she constantly took advantage of…

Steve Harrington: In regard to the young lady that came with us to charity event last Saturday, she is a friend we’ve known for a while. We ask politely that you respect her privacy as what is going on between us and Gina…

Steve Harrington: doesn’t involve her. Thank you for your understanding and we will speak more on this situation when we are finally able.

TMZ: Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson release joint statement regarding ‘friend’ and how they feel about Frost ‘spreading her lies’!

YouTube and TV:

CBS: “Gina Frost, thank you so much for speaking with us today. Before we let you go, what are your thoughts on the young lady they were seen with? Do you have any advice for her in regard to Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson?”

“Run, girl. Get as far away from them as you can. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started ‘hanging out’ with a girl like her because of our case. They always wanted me to be perfect. To look like the woman they thought would be equal to them and their status. She’s the complete opposite of what they wanted me to be so dating, or excuse me, being friends with her makes them look good.”

***

You wiped the tears that fell with your knee as you browse Daddies on your computer. Your phone was still dinging constantly so you kept it hidden in your bedside table drawer. Since winter break had started you didn’t have to deal with work and for that you were thankful.

Your identity hadn’t been officially confirmed but it seemed to be common knowledge at this point; everyone knew it was you.

Not wanting to be alone, you ran home into your parent’s open arms.

“Baby! Are you ok? What’s going on? Tell us everything.”

“I’m so stupid, mom.”, you cried.

“No, you’re not, honey. Come on. I made some coffee. Let’s sit down and talk.”

You told them everything minus the exact way you met them but you did tell them that you had been dating them both and how much you cared about them. When you were met with nothing but love and zero judgement, you cried harder.

Having fully settled in, you felt yourself getting antsy. After everything, you didn’t want a new relationship, just something casual but after having been with the guys you felt yourself cringing more and more at the stupid flirting that hit you.

“’Sup, pretty girl? Fuck your gorgeous. Wanna suck my cock?”

“Hey babe. You got an attitude? I bet I can fuck it out of you.”

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

Your head straightened at the message from Mogul/Rockstar. You hadn’t heard from them in over two weeks. What were they doing on this site? You couldn’t help the jealousy that flowed through you even though technically you were on the site first.

2:13am: What do you want, Steve?

2:14am: I want an answer to my question. What are you doing on this site again?

2:15am: What are YOU doing on here?! And why do you fucking care? You told me to leave remember?

2:17am: We’ve been calling you for the past couple of weeks but you don’t answer. We got worried. Steve thought maybe we could reach you through here but I thought naw. She wouldn’t get back on here so fast. Guess we were wrong.

2:20am: Don’t you dare, Eddie. Don’t you turn this around on me. You have no idea what I’ve been through! I still can’t believe you didn’t talk to me. You really expected me to sit at my apartment while you handled all this alone. Did you really think she wouldn’t pull me into your thing?”

2:21am: Now because of all the secrecy I can’t help but think what I’m hearing is true!

2:22am: Like what?

2:25am: Answer. Like what?

2:26am: That you only dated me so it seems like you didn’t want her to be the ‘ideal woman’.

You hear your phone vibrate against the drawer it’s nestled.

2:28am: Answer the phone.

2:28am: No.

2:29am: Now, Y/N. We need to talk.

2:30am: Oh now you want to talk!? Go fuck yourselves!

2:30am: Mogul/Rockstar has invited you to a video chat!!

2:31am: CurveybabywAttitude declined your invitation to video chat.

2:32am: Y/N. Answer the fucking phone.

2:38am: Y/N, sweetheart, please.

2:44am: Baby…

2:44am: Please…

2:45am: We love you.

2:45am: So much.

Uh oh! It looks like this Baby can no longer receive messages from Mogul/Rockstar! This means you have either been blocked or the Baby has deleted their account.

###################

“Jesus what assholes.”, your best friend sighs as she takes a sip from her glass. “If they loved you then why did they push you away?”

“I don’t know, My. Let’s stop talking about them and dance!”

To get your mind off everything and let go, you met up with your best friend who took you to a new bar that had been built while you were away from home. Dressed in your tightest black dress and black heels, you grabbed your own drink and danced away the pain.

Your friend took photos, tagging you together with men in the background casually touching your arm or waist. Your limbs found their way around a cute boy you had been talking casually to and allow him to kiss you. You hated the taste, missing Eddie and Steve even more but you pushed down the feeling as you pulled him tighter against you.

“Take me home.”, you slurred, making the young man immediately jump to his feet. When you tried to do the same you fell backwards.

“Whoa, Y/N. Maybe, you should let me take you home.”

“Naw, Mya. I-I-I M’fine.”, you assured as you lightly pushed her to the side and stumbled out the front door. When you tripped again the man wrapped your arm around his neck and began leading you to his car. “Wait—Wait. I’m…I need a minute.”, you whine as you take a seat on the brick wall behind you.

“Come on, baby. You can rest at my place.”, the man cooed in your ear causing you to cringe. “Look we don’t even have to go. We can just fuck in my car real quick—”

“Oh, that’s romantic.”

As you stood up and started to walk away, he grabbed your wrist a bit to roughly and in return, you smacked his cheek before stumbling to the concrete.

“Ow! Fucking bitch—” As the man began to step forward, someone intercepted, abruptly grabbing his collar and lifting him off his feet.

“Eddie, let it go, man. Not right now.”, Steve whispers before kneeling down beside you to try and help you up.

“Get out of my sight.”, the rockstar growls, pushing him away from you.

“Y/N, stop. I’m just trying to help you stand—”

“I don’t need your fucking help!”, you shouted as you shoved his hand away. “I don’t need anything from you!”

Trying to push up onto your knees, you became dizzy and fell over again causing Steve to try and steady you while blocking your shoulder from scraping the wall beside you. Your hair was blocking your face but when they heard you sniffle, Eddie crouched down to balance on his heels and tenderly reached out to move some of it behind your ear.

“I did everything you asked… I didn’t push when it came to your past or dig into your information online. I-I-I respected the anon-ymity and privacy when we first met and took a leap of faith going to that party with you. I flew to visit you anywhere you were and didn’t complain when you were gone for weeks at a time. I made myself vulnerable…for you…but still…you don’t trust me.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, we are so sorry—”

“I want to go home, please, Daddy.”

The way you said that shattered them in two. Just in your voice alone they could hear how much pain you were in yet even in your inebriated state you still yearned for them. Selfishly, it gave them hope.

“Y/N, sweetie! There you are.”, your best friend shouts in relief as she runs to you and helps you to your feet. “Get the fuck away from her. Haven’t you done enough damage?!”

“We just want to talk to her.”

“Fuck you! You had your chance to talk and—”

“Mya, please. Sleepy.”, you whine.

When she tries to lead you away from them towards her car, you stumble over your feet again but Eddie swiftly catches you and lifts you into his arms.

“We’ll help you get her to your car.”

“Why? So you know which one is mine and follow me back to her house?!”

“No, so we can help you get her situated and back home so she can rest.”, Steve growled.

Mya blinks, taken a back slightly by their protective demeanors over you. After taking a moment, she finally nods and guides them towards her vehicle, watching carefully as they place you in the passenger seat. The mogul buckles your seatbelt and gently puts your bag in your lap.

Your half-lidded eyes scan his worried face as your head lulls towards him.

“M’not her.”

“Who, honey?”

“Gina.”

Flashing you a soft smile, he begins to reach out to pet your head before forcing himself to stop and rise to his feet.

“We’re staying at the hotel by the highway; room 118. When she wakes up tomorrow, if you could tell her that, we’d appreciate it.”, Eddie conveys as his sad eyes stay on you.

“Your fuckers, you know that?”, Mya shouts their way as they start to leave. “Like so much so that I don’t even know where to begin. She used to call me every other day and talk about these new guys she was seeing. She never told me your full names but she told me everything else. ‘Oh Mya, they are so sweet and funny. Steve is amazing at his job and works to hard to make sure everything gets done while still being able to be there for me. I love watching Eddie play on stage. He gets so into the songs and his face lights up when he hears the fans singing along. Falling asleep in their arms is my new favorite place. I finally feel safe.’”

“When the news dropped, I called her but she didn’t answer. I wasn’t worried at the time because the way she described you, I thought ‘Thankfully, they have her and she has them.’ Then she came home and told me about you expecting her to hide in her apartment with zero information on what was happening. How you yelled at her and called her a fucking brat when she called you out.”

“Oh, and the icing on the cake? You tell her you love her for the first time over a dating website AFTER ALL THIS BULLSHIT YOU PUT HER THROUGH! Holden wore his asshole behavior out in the open for all to see. You made her believe you were different, leading her on before breaking her heart. After the stuff I read, I’m starting to believe Gina Frost.”

Both men absorbed what your best friend was saying, different emotions painting their features before finally landing on anger; not at her but themselves.

“Your right.”, Steve replied in a sullen tone. “We fucked up. Hell, we did more than fuck up…”

“We’ve never cared about anyone the way we do her and that terrifies us. Not just because of our status or who we are even though that’s why Gina used us but…”, Eddie added. “The men underneath the fame and money are incredibly flawed.”

“Gina made us afraid of her hurting us but our own personal bullshit made us afraid of hurting her.”

“So this is better?”, Mya asked.

“My…where…where your phone?”, you slurred as your hand lazily reached in her direction.

“Y/N, I’m taking you back to your mom’s, honey, you don’t know need to call them.”

“No…not mom…Eddie…Steve…I need to make dem come back. They were here an’ an’…”

“How about you call them tomorrow morning, ok? It’s really late and—”

“I don’t want dem to leave again. Mya…please…”

“Hey, hey sweetheart, we’re right here. We haven’t gone anywhere.” Tears start to run down your cheeks again and the rockstar cups your face in his hand. “We’re right here and we’ll be here when you wake up. Just let Mya, take you home and get you in bed. Tomorrow you can call us and we’ll talk then alright?”

After you nod, Eddie adjusts your body again before closing the door.

“You guys should get going.”

“Do you really love her?”, your best friend asks.

“Yes.”

Again, Mya takes a moment to gather her thoughts as her eyes shift between your now sleeping frame and them.

“Her parents house isn’t far. You can follow me there.”

***

“Why are they here?”, your father asks in an annoyed tone as he eyes the men up and down.

“It’s ok, Mr. Y/L/N. They just wanted to help get her situated and then they’ll be on their way.”, Mya answers in equal measure.

“Is her room up here?”, Eddie inquires as he gestures towards the stairs.

“Why don’t you come with us so you can get her changed into something comfier.”, Steve follows when your friend nods.

“Why? You’re her whatevers right?”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate right now for us to do that.”

“I can help you.”, your mom responds out of nowhere. “Come on, gentlemen.”

After they get to your room, your mother turns on your bedside lamp as Eddie gently places you down on your bed. Taping the rockstars shoulder, she hands him an oversized shirt with your college insignia on it and some shorts.

“Maybe you should…”

“I trust you, Mr. Munson. Plus I’m right here.” Her eyes studiously watch them as both boys work to change you out of your tight garment doing everything they could to not have to look at your body. Steve’s palm carefully cradled your head to make sure they didn’t jostle you around too much as you soundly slept.

“Do you have a washrag or wipe or something for her makeup?”

Her head tilts at his question, impressed he even thought of that. Disappearing into your restroom, she came back with wet wipes, and Eddie thanked her as he took one and gently cleaned your face.

This was a bit harder to accomplish without moving you as your face scrunched and you whined.

“Steve…stop…”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Blame him. That way if I don’t do this correctly it will be his fault.”, he teased making you sleepily giggle.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”, Eddie whispers.

“Thank you, ma’am, for letting us do this. We just wanted to make sure she got here safely.”

“Hm. You wanted to make sure she got back home in one piece but didn’t think to do that when it came to all this chaos you brought her into?”, you mom scolded as she folded her arms.

“We did warn her—”

“No Mr. Harrington. You may have warned her about your lifestyle but you didn’t do anything to protect her when the fallout of that lifestyle presented itself. Holden ‘warned’ her about what life in New York would be like but when things got hard he abandoned her instead working with her. Like him, you left her alone.”

Nodding, their heads hung as they began to head towards the door before stopping.

“I’m afraid.”, Eddie announces. “My mom died when I was young, my dad went to jail, people around me told me I’d never amount to anything, and then our ex did what she did. When we met Y/N, fuck, I thought she was perfect… and that scares me. I don’t want to lose her but I also don’t want to be the reason that spark inside of her dies.”

“Seems like a lose/lose, Eddie. But let me ask you something… what if your relationship with her had a happy ending? What if she didn’t hurt you like your ex and you don’t hurt her like people in your life?” She smiles softly as she pats his shoulder. “It’s a risk, boys, but you just need to decide who is worth taking that risk for. You’re more than welcome to stay in our spare bedroom if you would like.”

####################

When you woke up the next morning, you had a splitting headache, thankful that your pain reliever was still in your drawer by your bed. The sound of soft breathing startled you a bit and when you leaned over your bedframe, you were surprised to see Eddie asleep on your floor using his jacket as a pillow. Steve had placed himself in the reading chair you had in the corner with his head leaning against the wall.

You didn’t realize how much you missed them till you saw their faces and you took the opportunity to refamiliarize yourself as your eyes scanned over them. The mogul was in jeans and a polo making you smile softly while silently missing the sleek suits that hugged him perfectly. The rockstar was still dressed the same as he usually was but his whole demeanor even while sleeping seemed heavy.

Your heart broke for them until the last couple of weeks caught up with you and you remembered why you were here.

Reaching for one of your pillows, you threw it their way, hitting Eddie’s chest before it bounced and hit Steve’s lap.

“The fuck?”, he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

“The fuck indeed. Why are you both here? How did you even know where I was?”

“Your best friend was posting pictures of you and tagging your location on Instagram. You weren’t answering your phone—”

“Yeah, Steve, for a reason. That doesn’t give you the right to come down here.”

“Thank God we did because some asshole was harassing you and Mya was having trouble getting you to her car to take you home.”

“No, Eddie. You playing hero doesn’t absolve you of what you did. You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“We tried to call—”

“Oh, fuck you both!” As you start to get up to yell at them, a sharp sting runs through knee causing you to wince and sit back down.

“Shit. Didn’t see that last night. Um, do you have a first kit or anything thing?”

When you don’t answer, the mogul goes on the hunt himself as Eddie kneels in front of you to look at the scrape on your knee.

“Yeah, you fell on the concrete outside of the bar with some asshole trying to… I told him to fuck off.” Sitting on the bed beside you, Steve opens the little white box and starts to open a Band-Aid before his friend stops him. “Dude, you have to clean it first. It’s like you’ve never been in a fight before. Gimme this.”, he chuckles lightly as he takes the box and pulls out the antiseptic.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m not… I don’t belong to you anymore.”

His movements only halt for a second before Eddie continues taking care of you.

“I don’t mind doing this. I like taking care of you.”, he murmurs. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to but I didn’t want you to cast me aside either.”

“We—”

“Don’t say you didn’t, Steve, because you did.”

“We did.” His response surprised you as you turned your head in his direction. “We talked to your mom last night. She’s a very wise woman.”, he smirks as he watches Eddie continue his task. “Y/N, I worked so hard to get where I am and I don’t just mean taking over my dad’s company and doing the deals I do. When I was growing up, I was never enough for either of my parents but especially my father. In his eyes, I could always be just a little bit better.”

“I could shorten my time by one more second in the pool or get one more minute on the court. My grades could have been one point higher or I could have gotten three grand more out of a deal. He wanted me to be perfect but I learned after I graduated high school that bar was always changing.” When his eyes finally met yours, you saw the pain behind them. “Gina knew all this… that’s why she’s saying that about me. She knows it hurts me…people thinking I’m like my father.”

Eddie finishes placing the Band-aid on your skin and leans back against the wall across from you.

“My dad was a dick…to me and my mother. He cut us down all the time verbally but after she died it got worse. He would tell me I was stupid and a freak just like the people in our town. I left my house with more bruises than I could count on numerous occasions but his words, babe. I carry those everywhere even now. I never once, no matter how angry I was, called her anything demeaning even though I fucking wanted to. She would call us every name in the book but we never once belittled her or laid a hand on her.”

“When we met you, Jesus, I swear there was no girl we had ever met like you.”

“Beautiful, sarcastic, kind, understanding…”, Steve clarified when your eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N, you are everything we’ve ever wanted.”

“Stop…”, you whimper quietly.

“I feel like somehow she knows that. That’s why she’s saying that stuff about us choosing you because you’re everything she’s not. We wouldn’t change anything about you. Not one thing, princess. But we are so fucking scared of getting hurt again.”

“And we’re afraid of hurting you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair, honey?”

“Do you think trusting you was easy after what Holden did to me? I upended everything I knew to follow him and he broke my heart. I was terrified of starting over in any relationship let alone with two people but I got to know you and allowed myself to be vulnerable for you… you should be able to do that for me to.”

“You’re right, baby, and we are so sorry. We’re willing to try.”, Eddie pleaded as he leaned up to grab your hands. “We don’t even have to be in a relationship again or do anything sexual. We can start slow and go from there. We just miss you so much, Y/N. The way you smell, your sense of humor, the way you play with my hair when we’re lying in bed or watching tv.”

“The way you listen to us when we talk even if it’s about work.”, Steve chimes in. “Your cute little laugh and the way you wrap your arms around me like you haven’t seen me in years when it’s only been a few hours.”

“Ah good morning, gentlemen and my hung over child. How are we today?”, your mother teases as she grins your way.

“We’re fine thank you but if you could lower your voice a smidge that would be nice.”, you sass back making her chuckle as both men grin softly.

“Your dad made breakfast if you and your guests are hungry. Just don’t throw it up or you’ll hurt his feelings.”

You smile as you playfully wave her off before turning your attention back to them.

“Do you have to go back home for work or anything?”

“No, ma’am. We’re all yours.”

“Unless you want us to go back home.”, Eddie adds with sad inflection in his voice hoping and praying that you don’t.

“Ok… I’m going to change and then head downstairs. You, um, you should stay for breakfast. Knowing my father, if my mom told him you were staying he probably poisoned something but…I’m sure you’ll be fine.”, you joke as you get up and head towards your closet, tossing them a little wink before collecting some clothes and closing the bathroom door.

####################

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines @nailbatanddungeon

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postmodernbeliever · 10 months ago

Text

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down.

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil.

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other.

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts.

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon.

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it.

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile.

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes.

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!”

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic.

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen.

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive.

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?”

“your sink is leaking.”

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts.

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them.

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?”

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?”

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer.

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.”

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?”

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine.

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.”

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?”

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath.

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time.

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?”

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured.

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing.

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation.

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away.

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool.

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.”

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck.

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?”

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,”

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,”

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you?

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor.

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.”

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you.

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,”

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job.

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance.

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good.

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life.

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did.

“okay, baby, okay.”

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast.

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over.

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life.

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze.

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,”

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once.

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…”

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out.

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?”

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it.

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?”

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss.

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.”

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you.

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked.

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science.

“can you hear me, sweetheart?”

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?”

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered.

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe.

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?”

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.”

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling.

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?”

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second.

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.”

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular.

“coming back to me, hm?”

“yeah,” you giggled.

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.”

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised.

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just… agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

#spooky mulder #x files #fox mulder #smut #smut and fluff #fox mulder smut #x files smut #fox mulder x reader #agent mulder #fox mulder x you #praise k!nk #soft d0m #Spotify

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pissholesinthesn0w · 27 days ago

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On This Night, In This Light - Matty Healy x Reader

well, here it is! the long awaited (by mostly me) Christmas party cheating fic. This is the very idea that brought me to tumblr in the first place, looking to find something similar to this scenario that was truly rotting my brain last holiday season. I had been hesitant to even write it because I wanted to do it justice. A lot of work went into this one, it’s my longest piece I have written, and I think I was able to convey what I wanted to. Anyway blah blah I hope you like it. 🎄

also shoutout to everyone who encouraged and helped me with the writing of this!! @theseventyfive, @mattyhealyarmpits, @honeydiveintome, @wreckedandpolemic, @sugar-coat-it & @kate-the1975✊

contains: smut 18+, cheating(ish), unprotected sex, gagging, extremely questionable morals

5.2k words

“I’m so excited for you to meet my family,” Ryan squeezes your leg as he pulls the car into the driveway of his aunt’s house. “Think they’ll like me?” You ask halfheartedly. This was far too much, far too soon. He was never meant to be more than a one night stand; but he was nice enough. Plus, you didn’t have anywhere else to go for Christmas so this seemed like a decent choice.

“Of course, what’s not to like?” He smiles at you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. You smile back reluctantly, watching as he practically launches himself out of the drivers seat, coming over to the passenger side to open your door for you. You stand up, smoothing down your sweater dress. Your boots crunch against the snow as he slams the door shut and grabs your hand.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “It will be fun, I promise.” He tells you, pushing a stand of hair behind your ear and planting a kiss on your hand. You smile weakly, hoping you could will yourself to make it through the night. You didn’t want to ruin his Christmas. The both of you look up at the house, a mid century modern home that was very impressive. You knew he came from money, but this?

Before you even get to the front door it swings open, an older woman with short, bright blonde hair and cat eye glasses greets you with a smile. “Ryan! Dear I am so happy to see you! Come in, come in,” she motions the both of you and you follow his lead in the doorway. She wraps her arms around his shoulders enthusiastically, swaying the both of them side to side in a giant hug. Ryan tells him your name and she doesn’t hesitate to give you the same great big hug he’d just given your him. She was very friendly, you thought.

“I’m Denise, so pleased to have you both. Please, take off your coat and shoes, you can put them over here,” she walks over to the coat closet where there were already lots of coats hanging. You wondered how many people would be attending this family dinner, it made you feel a little less out of place knowing it wasn’t super intimate. After pulling off your outerwear, Ryan grabs your hand and you make your way into the kitchen.

You see the counter is full of champagne glasses, half full with a pale amber liquid, the smell of delicious food filling your senses. He picks two up and hands you one, lifting his for a cheers. You oblige, taking it and clinking your glasses together. One sip and wow, you’d never tasted champagne so luxurious. As you made your way to the living area at the back of the house, it became very apparent that his family had money money.

You exchange pleasantries with the members of his family, all warm and welcoming. People were still trickling in as you sat next to your Ryan on the couch, thigh to thigh, as he chatted with his cousins about some sports thing you couldn’t care less about. You mostly just smiled and agreed, as you had nothing to add to the conversation. It was feeling stuffy, you tug on the collar of your sweater, fanning your face. The 2 glasses of champagne you’d had was warming you up from the inside out.

A loud, infectious laugh echos from the front of the house as you hear the screen door creak and slam shut. “Is that fucking Matty?” Ryan stands quickly, all but slamming his glass down on the coffee table. You lift your head with curious eyes to see him. That was his cousin Matty? Your boyfriend had talked about him a few times, but you had never expected him to look like this. He seemed to be the most well dressed of the bunch, wearing a crisp white button up with a black tie and slacks. He was at least a few years older, his gray streaked hair was gelled with his sunglasses pushed back. He looked positively stunning without even trying and suddenly you weren’t sure how you’d make it through this dinner. Matty opens his arms gleefully, wrapping them around Ryan’s shoulder. “Missed ya, mate!” Matty exclaims, rubbing his back. “It’s so good to see you,” Ryan says cheerfully, before looking to you and motioning for you to come over.You scramble to your feet, adjusting your skirt and thigh high socks, all too nervous to approach the two of them. “Matty, this is my beautiful- erm-“ “friend!” You cut him off, nodding as your Ryan introduces you by name to Matty, and he sticks out his hand. Your cheeks flush and heat creeps across your chest as you take his hand in yours; large, calloused and completely sure. You feel his gaze burn into you for a beat before he replies.

“Hello, darling, pleasure to meet you.” You feel his eyes rake over your body and in any other circumstance you’d for sure go home with this guy. But you weren't entirely convinced you would be able to resist, even now.

“Nice to meet you, Matty,” you say, shooting him a sweet smile. You look over to Ryan and he’s beet red, embarrassed. You try to will the thoughts away as Ryan and Matty head towards the kitchen, probably to grab another drink. You watch them leave and cannot shake the feeling that this was going to be a night you won’t forget.

You reclaim your spot on the couch, trying to focus on the small talk within the living room, but your mind wanders elsewhere. Your “friend” rejoins you, alone.

“How’re you feeling?” He whispers into your ear, squeezing your thigh. “Good, I’m good. Everyone is super nice, the house is beautiful,” you tell him. And you mean that, you could already tell this family was genuine and you felt so welcome.

“‘Friend’, huh?,” he laughs nervously but you could tell he didn’t find it funny. You shrug. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” You nudge him with your shoulder and he just shakes his head with a sigh. You do feel a pang of guilt in your gut, but you never promised him anything. It’s not your fault he is presumptuous.

You continue in light conversation with some of his family, and your eyes are drawn to Matty as he walks in and sits at the small card table across the room.

You scan the room, trying not to be obvious as you meet his gaze. He takes a drink, looking at you over the rim of his glass with those fucking eyes, half moon and deep brown and wanting. Your cheeks flush and your heart is racing. He made you nervous, too nervous, and the smirk on his face let you know he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

Two could play this game, you thought. You uncross your legs and spread them open slightly, still looking directly at Matty. His eyebrows lift in surprise and he bites his lower lip, shaking his head at you. You watch him finish his drink, Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat.

This called for more champagne, you thought. You excuse yourself from the conversation and make your way over to the kitchen grab a glass, something to calm your nerves. As you grab another glass, you suddenly feel a presence behind you, dark and looming as you turn your head and see Matty standing way too close.

“S’cuse me, darling,” he muttered as he reaches around you to grab a glass. your feet feel glued to the floor, your brain complete mush as you unable to move or speak. You feel the front of him against your back, solid and warm. You smell his cologne, musky and floral mixed with cigarettes on his breath.

“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, taking a step back and accidentally landing on his foot. “Shit- sorry!” You fumble with the glass and almost spill it all over the counter before he grabs your elbow, steadying you.

“You’re good,” he reassures you, giving your arm a squeeze. “Don’t have to be so nervous, love. Not so cheeky now, are you?” You can hear his smirk as he leans down and whispers to you. Heat pools in your lower belly, the condescension dripping in his voice made you want to drop to your knees and-

“I am not nervous, you just startled me,” you say, straightening your posture and shrugging his hand off of you. His eyes bore into yours, a mischievous shade of brown.

He chuckles, raising his hands. “Oi, she’s fiesty.” Your cheeks burn red. “You seem a bit pent up. How’s my cousin treating you, he taking care of you?” He mutters in your ear.

“What? Yeah, we’re friends, I mean,” you sigh. “He’s sweet, super nice, but-“ you taper off, looking over to Ryan. He was nice, just… boring.

“Oh yeah, he’s great,” Matty nods in agreement, taking a gulp of his drink. “Super nice.” You nod in agreement, distracted by the way his white shirt hugged his shoulders, the tie hanging loosely around his neck. “Goin’ out for a smoke, you coming?”

You look at Ryan again, and he’s lost in conversation with his family. He wouldn’t even notice you’re gone, would he?

”Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

— —

The sun has set in the sky as you stand next to Matty, shivering with your hands in your coat pockets. “Should get a better coat, love.” Matty says.

“I have one, just wouldn’t go well with this outfit,” you motion downwards, showing off your short skirt and socks. You thought it may be too much for a family dinner, but now you were glad you wore them. Matty lights his cigarette and blows out the smoke. He looked positively gorgeous in the warm glow of the Christmas lights. You wanted to memorize everything about him, every curve, every shadow.

“Very nice outfit,” Matty chokes out, looking off into nowhere.

“So where’s your girlfriend?” You ask, feeling warm and bold as the alcohol settles into your bloodstream.

Matty sighs, “don’t have one at the moment. On tour, very busy, don’t have much time,” he rattles on, and a wave of excitement fills you.

“No fuck buddies?”

“Nah, been there, done that. Too much work to keep up. Is that what you and him are? Fuck buddies?” He motions toward the house.

You snort, looking down as you play with the hem of your skirt. “No, no. Well, sort of, I guess. Like I said, he’s a nice guy.”

“But he doesn’t fuck you properly?” Matty asks, nonchalantly as he takes another drag from his cigarette, cheeks hollowed. You stare at the red glow and you almost choke on your spit.

“Would you be quiet?!” You half whisper, eliciting a cheesy smile from Matty. “Relax, everyone’s doing their own thing, they’re not paying attention to us. You didn’t answer the question, by the way.”

You exhale. “No, not really.”

“That’s a shame, darling.” Matty drops his cigarette and stomps it into the cement with his boot.

You look in the window behind him, you grab his arm and drag him over to the side of the yard, out of sight.

“Whoa, where you taking me love?” Matty asks playfully, letting you take him where you please.

“You gotta stop calling that unless you want me to fall in love with you, I’m serious,” you shake your head at him, in slight disbelief of the situation you got yourself in.

He laughs and your heart skips a beat. Without thinking, you fall into him, pushing him against the side of the house and crash your lips into his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he runs his hands up your back, returning your kiss with fervor. Heat runs through you as you swallow his moans, trying to keep quiet. “Tryin to shag me in the yard, dirty girl,” he mumbles.

“Not in the yard, what kind of girl do you take me for?” You say, catching your breath.

“A very hot girl,” Matty laughs. He was such a man. “Seriously, what about your erm, friend? Won’t he be upset?”

“Can we not talk about him for five minutes? I should be getting back inside though. He’s going to notice we’re both gone.” You say, rubbing your lip gloss off of his lower lip with your thumb. He grips your hand firmly. and takes your thumb into his mouth, wrapping his soft lips around the digit and you freeze. You have to stop yourself from letting out a moan, because dear god he was so sexy. You feel his tongue swirl around your finger and your knees almost buckle.

“Fuck,” you mutter, eyes wide in disbelief as he pulls your thumb out with a pop. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, adjusting his pants to hide his growing bulge. “That all it takes to get you worked up, huh?” You tease, running your fingers through your hair and adjusting your clothing so it doesn’t look like you were just making out with someone.

“So you’re saying if I feel you up under your skirt, your little panties won’t be soaked, sweetheart?” Matty asks casually and doesn’t let you answer. “Back in, let’s go. You go first.”

You don’t have it in you to argue at the moment. You make your way back inside, peeling off your coat and you can hear Ryan’s laugh from across the room, great. He spots you.

“Hey babe!” He practically shouts at you, his loud mouth giving you the feeling he’s quite tipsy already. You smile weakly as you make your way to him. He throws his arm around your shoulder. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” He asks no one in particular as you hear the screen door shut. It was Matty, and all you could do was hope he would just ignore you both. But, you wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Gorgeous,” Matty chimes in. “How’d you guys meet?” He asks curiously and you want to run away and hide. Instead you take a seat on the empty couch.

“We were in the same lit class, took a few times to get her to agree to go out with me but she finally said yes. Hard to get, this one,” he says and you roll your eyes.

Matty chuckles. “Now look at you, oh to be young and in love.”

“Well-“ you start before Denise calls everyone in for dinner, and you thanked god for it. Ryan grabs your hand and you take your seat at the table. To your dismay, Matty pulls out the chair next to you and sits down, wiggling his eyebrows at you and you let out a sigh, more dramatic than you intended and Ryan asks if you’re ok.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” you smile. You’re very aware of the way Matty’s boot is touching the side of yours, your nerves alight with the smallest point of contact.

— —

Dinner was great, everything went fine as you all ate, you’d catch Matty’s eye every few minutes and a flood of nerves shot through you, blood rushing hot in your veins. You play with the hemline of your sweater and realize you need a moment to yourself, a moment to breathe without prying eyes on you.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” You ask Ryan, and he points to the stairs. “Want me to take you?” He asks, running his hand up your thigh and you slap him away.

“No, I can find it. Be back,” you say, giving his shoulders a quick squeeze as you make your way to the staircase. You look over at Matty and he takes a big gulp of his drink, his eyes dark and sinister over the rim of the glass.

You shut the bathroom door behind you and catch yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed pink and your lip gloss was the slightest bit smudged. You feel brazen and peel your underwear off, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to you with your wetness.

There’s a knock on the door and before you can say anything it swings open, Matty standing casually in the hallway. “Hello?” You say, trying to act surprised that he followed you up here.

“Hi, sweets,” he smiles, looking down directly at your soaked panties in your hand. “What do you have there?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe. His lips curve into a smile as he sees you weigh your options for a second before pulling him inside and shutting the door quietly.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Sitting all pretty up here waiting for me while my whole family is downstairs,” he teases, taking a step toward you. “Filthy girl.” He grabs the soaked fabric from your hand and shoves it in his pocket. You shudder, the anticipation growing in your gut as he rolls up the his sleeves, revealing a littering of tattoos.

“Maybe,” you ponder, squeezing your thighs together.

He cages you in, hands on either side of you and presses you up against the wall, his body firm. “Tell me to fuck off, and I will,” he breathes into the shell of your ear before planting a soft kiss on your jawline, causing your knees to buckle underneath you.

“No,” you mutter, and he hums in response, grabbing your hips and digging his fingers in. “Want me to fuck you, sweet girl?” A flood of arousal gushes out of you, thighs turning sticky with your honey. You nod feverishly and Matty falls to his knees, calloused hands run up the backs of your thighs and involuntarily your hips buck forward, ready to give him all of you.

“Can I?” He asks, looking up at you through thick lashes while he plays with the hem of your skirt. “Please, please,” you beg, fighting the urge to grab his head and shove it between your legs. “Been thinking about this since I saw you with these fucking stockings,” he runs his hands up your legs before pushing up your skirt, admiring you for a moment. “Aw, look how wet you are darling, should’ve just said so. Really would’ve fucked you right out on the lawn,” he teases and licks a broad stripe up your center.

You grip onto the side of the sink, letting out a sharp moan that you instantly knew was too fucking loud given the circumstances. “Shh, shh, you’ve got to be quiet, can you do that for me?” Matty asks, littering kisses on your inner thighs. “M’sorry, I’ll be quiet, promise,” you breathe and he dives back in and kisses your cunt before running his tongue along your folds, moaning into you as he tastes you. “Sweet little cunt, I’d be devouring you every single fuckin’ night,” he mumbles, circling his tongue around your swollen bud and giving it a harsh suck before sliding a finger inside of you. “Oh my god,” you grab his shoulders and he pushes your right leg up against the wall to spread you open even more. Your vision goes hazy as pleasure consumes you. He sets a teasing pace as he fingers you, slipping one more in before he curls them just right and he looks to you for your response, smug look on his face that made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. “Right there?” He asks as he hits that spot inside of you over and over again. Pleasure blooms inside of you as he picks up his pace, filthy wet sounds filling up the bathroom. His mouth is insistent on your clit, alternating between sucking and licking, moaning into you as his fingers never relent.

Your leg underneath you shakes as you struggle to keep yourself upright. “I’ve got you,” he says, pulling out of you and helping you lower your leg, giving your ass a quick squeeze before he is on his feet again, crashing his lips into yours as he pushes you into the wall even more, you can feel him hard against you, straining against his trousers. He runs his hands up back under your sweater and you feel him unhook your bra, a motion you could tell he’d done many times given how easily he got it open. He grabs a handful of your breast, squeezing gently and you sigh, throwing your head back as he rubs his thumb over your peaked nipple. “Off, off,” you breathe as you feverishly pull off your sweater and toss it haphazardly across the bathroom tile. “Beautiful,” he says, admiring you as he kisses your tits. His hot mouth wraps around one nipple, tongue running along your sensitive bud, thumb pinching and tweaking the other. You run toe fingers through his hair, pushing him into you more. His teeth graze your skin and your body jerks, you feel his smile against your flesh.

You snake your hand between your bodies and rub against his bulge, a shuddering breath leaving lips. “Fuck, s’good,” he groans as he moves up to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin and some sick part of you hoped it would leave marks.

“I wanna suck you off,” you whisper, pulling his face up to meet yours, licking into his mouth as you continue to rub his hard cock under his pants. He lets out a sharp breath. “Yeah? Gorgeous girl wants to suck my dick? Yeah, ok, get me out, darling,” he looks down as you sink to your knees slowly, eyes about glazed over while you fumble with his belt. “This off too, please, want to see you,” you tug on the bottom of his shirt and he obliges, unbuttoning each button with nimble fingers while you watch. He shrugs off his shirt and your jaw drops, his inked skin and making him even more attractive than he was before. He was lean but fit, tight muscles and the littering of hair below his navel shot heat right through you.

You trace the outline of his hip tattoo, a beautiful blue rose that read we are kings.

“Look at you,” you say under your breath, quickly losing focus of the task at hand. He threads his fingers through your hair and he undoes his buckle with one hand. You pull his pants and underwear down in one go and his cock springs free; thick, tip red and leaking and just beautiful. You never thought you would say that about a man’s dick but it just made sense, it matched the rest of his body.

“Shh, shh, here- open up,” he ruts forward and rubs his length against your cheek and your eyes flutter closed. He taps the head of his cock against your lips and you oblige, letting him enter your warm and waiting mouth. He felt warm and heavy on your tongue, the velvety skin sliding in and out as you bob your head on his length. “Fuck, baby, feels s’good,” he moans, looking down at you in awe. This is definitely not what he expected to happen tonight. You hum around him at the sweet praise, swallowing every bit of precum he gives you. You take a deep breath through your nose before you take him deeper, surpressing a gag as his tip hits the back of your throat, your nose pressing against his dark hair.

The groans leaving his lips make you woozy, forgetting everything in that moment as all you want to do is make him feel good. You look up at him with tears brimming your lash line, and what a view, you thought. His hair was disheveled, his sweat sheened skin flushed pink, his brows furrowed in concentration as he tries not to spill down your throat.

You lift off and wrap your hand around him, slick with your spit as you stroke him. You touch his balls with your other hand, massaging them at the same time. “Perfect girl,” he coos at you, admiring your fucked out face and heaving chest. “I want you,” you sigh, eyes wide and innocent as you look up at him.

“Want me to fuck you? Yeah? How do you want me?” You turn around to bend over and rest your arms on the sink, grinding your ass against him with a sway of your hips. You can see him admiring you in the mirror, running his finger through your wetness. You shudder at the feeling, being so vulnerable for what was essentially a complete stranger; but you felt safe with him.

Matty reaches down into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a shiny condom package.

“Wait, I-“ you pause. “I’m on the pill, in case you just want to,-“

Matty lets out a deep sigh, the thought of being inside of you and feeling you making his heart beat out of his chest. “Yeah, ok sweet girl.” His voice is soft, bent over and breathing in your ear, searching your eyes in your reflection for confirmation.

“Please,” you breathe, every ounce of shame has vanished from your body at this point. All you could focus on was feeling him inside of you, all of him.

“Please, please fuck me, I need it” you babble mindlessly. Matty runs his tip along your folds, nudging against your aching clit and finally starts to push in. The stretch was all consuming; pain mixed with pleasure that seemed to separate your mind from your body. You held onto the sink like your life depended on it, the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“That’s it,” Matty praises as he pushes in more, all the way until you’re completely enveloping him. “Perfect fit, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me” he whispers, hands running along the curve of your ass as he grabs a handful of flesh, kneading it. “Fuck, Matty,”

“You’ve got to stay quiet, yeah?” You nod your head, mouth hanging open as he fucks into you. Matty stills inside of you, a loud burst of laughter from downstairs reminds you exactly what you were doing.

He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. “Matty, what-“ you see him stand back up with his black tie in his hand. “I can’t have you moaning and groaning, sweetheart,” he states plainly, crumpling the fabric into a ball. “Here, it’s for your own good,” he holds it up to your lips and you open. He shoves his tie into your mouth and you groan, now muffled by the fabric. Your eyes are wide as you nod at him, breathing through your nose.

He lines himself up and pushes all the way in with sharp thrust, you clench around him as he starts to move, his fingers digging into your hips. “Don’t think your little boyfriend would like this, would he?” He spits, venom dripping from his tongue. “Little slut needed a real man to rail her in the bathroom at his family Christmas party, god you’re fucking filthy,” he groans on and you’re rendered speechless; half from the tie in your mouth and half from his dirty words and his cock hitting that spot deep inside of you. Normally his inflated ego would turn you off, but something about it coming from him just spurred you on even more. Unlike most men you’ve been with, he was able to back it all up. You nod feverishly at him, admiring his reflection in the mirror, cheeks and chest flushed pink and pupils blown wide with lust.

Matty leans forward, his chest to your back and brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing mind numbing circles over your swollen bud as he continues to split you in half with his relentless thrusts, hips slamming into you. You can’t hold back your moan, your cunt clenching tightly around his cock. “You like that?” Matty asks, already knowing the answer as your eyes cross from pleasure, pressure building in your lower belly with every stroke of his fingers. The fabric in your mouth was all but dripping down your chin, not doing much now to quiet the noises he was drawing out of you.

“You gonna cum around my cock, darling? C’mon, milk me with this tight little cunt, that’s right,” he grunts into your ear and that’s what throws you over the edge completely; white hot pleasure consuming you, vision blurry as your mind goes completely blank, waves of euphoria pulsing through your body. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Matty grunts, face crumpled and pained as he swiftly pulls out of you to stroke himself, abs tense he cums all over your ass, white ropes painting your soft skin. You arch your back and push up into him, him squeezing the remnants of his orgasm out, slapping his softening dick against your cunt.

You spit out his tie, the sopping fabric landing in the porcelain sink. “Oh my fucking god,” you breathe, trying your best to not collapse into the floor, your body completely drained. “You’re unreal.” Matty is looking at you, his lips curling into a soft smile and you feel a pang in your stomach. Was it guilt, or something else?

“Here, let me clean you up,” Matty says, pulling up his pants and putting himself away. You watch as he grabs a hand towel from the closet and runs it under warm water. Ryan never did this for you, you thought.

“How are we going to get out of this, exactly?” You ask, somewhat rhetorically. Matty just chuckles, wiping the warm towel over your bottom. “Stop doing all that thinking, darling. I hate it when you do that,” he says playfully, pulling your skirt back down. You stand back up straight, all of a sudden feeling insecure just standing with your tits hanging out. He hands you your bra and sweater.

“Relax, bet he didn’t even notice we’ve been gone,” he says confidently, but you weren’t so sure. You had no idea how long it had actually been.

“I think I should just leave, I’ll tell him I’m not feeling good. I’ll get an Uber home.” You tell Matty. It was true, you really weren’t feeling super great about what you’d just done. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it, because it really was just that good.

“How about this,” Matty says, digging his car keys out of his pocket. “Take these, go out the side door and wait for me in my car. I’ll say my goodbyes downstairs and I can drive you home. Trust me, Ryan’s got to be so piss drunk by now he won’t even realize. He’s always like this at family gatherings.”

”Ok, yeah, sure. Thanks,” you grab his keys from him, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close. “Least I could do, love” he says before he takes your head in his hand and kisses you gently, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his tenderness. A far cry from the way he was fucking you just 5 minutes ago.

“I told you, stop calling me that unless you want me to fall in love with you, Matty,” you exasperate, pulling your boots back on.

“Maybe I do.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy #matty healy smut #the 1975 #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann

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hotchs-big-hands · 1 year ago

Note

dbf & corruption link Hotch with plus-sized reader who didn’t think he would ever be interested in HER and is so naive about it omfg the gif u reposted fuckkk I can’t stop thinking about it

YEAHHHH YOU GET IT

Okay I didn't realise I was gonna turn this into a whole fic JWFJEKFKDKFKRK (I'm writing this midway through the fic rn whoops 🫣)

Reader is early 20s and lives at home with her dad. I cba writing too much abt it in the plot sorry lol

Dbf!Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader|Minors dni NSFW|5.9K words

Warning(s): SMUT, Corruption kink, fingerfucking, sir/daddy kink 👀, almost getting caught

(d/n) = dad's name

It wasn't often you met your dad's friends, they only really managed a few meet ups a year with how busy people's lives were these days. And so when your dad approached you to inform you he was attending a meal out with said friends you were happy for him. But you didn't expect him to offer you to join him.

"My buddies have been wondering how you're getting on," he had said, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. "You should come along, sunny. The guys are bringing along their partners but eh, you know me. As big of a bachelor as one can be."

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle, but within your stomach you felt it coiling with anxiety. And you knew he could tell from the change of expression on his face.

"Hey... you don't actually have to come along if you're not comfortable. I know you don't really, uh, enjoy these sorts of things."

"No, no! I'll come along. Um, I just don't really remember any of your friends by name." You said quickly. He chuckled and shook his head, and you knew if he was closer he would have ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Fair enough, sunny. That's a relief actually, given that I already booked for you to come along as well."

With a gasp, you thumped your dad lightly.

"Dude!" You cried, making him laugh and step back a little.

"Well, we're aiming to meet up around seven tonight so be sure to be ready by half six." He grinned at you and you felt yourself returning the expression. It was nice seeing your dad looking a lot happier these days.

By the time you were dressed up ready for the meal that night you were inwardly panicking. Had you overdressed? Underdressed? Why did it even matter what his friends thought? Oh god, having to eat in front of his friends?! Needless to say, you were an absolute mess. Your dad grabbed one of your hands to squeeze it comfortingly as the two of you sat in the back of a taxi on the way to the restaurant and your lips curled up slightly in appreciation. It would be okay. There was no need to panic.

The ride was all too short to calm your nerves and at this point you felt jittery. It was too late to back out now though, and you quickly climbed out of the taxi when your dad walked around to open your door for you, mumbling a quick thanks and smoothing out the skirt of your pretty dress. You hadn't gone with anything flashy, opting to wear a mid-thigh length white dress that was covered in tiny blue flowers with a dropped neckline, some pretty knee-high socks and white sneakers. It made you feel good, your large curves complimented your outfit and you felt less inclined to shy away right now. With a quick adjustment of the strap of your bag, you followed your dad into the restaurant.

Oh... it was certainly more posh than you anticipated. Had your dad's friends always been this fancy?! Those coils of anxiety only tightened more as your dad spoke to the waiter about the booking. And then you were both escorted to a large table where six other people were already seated.

"Well look who it is! (D/n), you're looking well!" One of the men exclaimed cheerfully. You vaguely recognised the faces around the table, but not enough to know them by name. The man's eyes flicked to you and his eyes widened. "Goodness! Is that your little one?! You're all grown up!"

Your cheeks felt hot as you quickly sat down beside your dad, smiling shyly at the outspoken friend.

"Yeah, it's me. I don't think you guys have seen me since I was... eleven?" You conversed quietly. One of the wives of a different friend leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

"You look gorgeous, sweetie!"

Beside you, your dad could feel you trembling slightly and chuckled, waving his friends off.

"Alright, alright let the girl be."

As the attention drifted from you and the conversations changed to the mundane of friends catching up after a long time, your eyes drifted around the table. Your brows slightly pulled together. There was an empty seat next to you on your left. You gently nudged your dad, who turned to you.

"What's up, sunny?" He asked quietly. You offered a quick smile of reassurance.

"Um, is there meant to be someone else here?"

His eyes flicked to the empty chair, then back to you.

"Ohhh right yes! You remember Mr Hotchner, right? He's running a little late but he should be here soon."

No, you didn't quite remember Mr Hotchner. It had been years since you'd heard anything surrounding that name. All you knew was he had a very involved job that took him all over the country. As you sat deep in thought your dad's voice cut through as he made a humming noise, mouth full of beer. You glanced at him, noting he was looking over your shoulder at someone. But before you could turn you heard the chair next to you slide on the polished floor and shuffle as someone sat down in it. A wave of an alluring cologne flooded your senses and you slowly turned back to facing the table, heart racing. Then you heard him.

"I'm sorry I'm late, we just got back from a case. Barely had time to freshen up at home before coming here." Mr Hotchner spoke smoothly, voice deep and sensually gentle. You dared to glance next to you and you clenched your pillowy thighs together. Fucking christ, he was sexy! With the corner of his mouth turned upwards, the man oozed assurance and control as he greeted his friends around the table. Your eyes couldn't stop wandering over his features, the scattered beauty marks on his mature skin, the eyebags under his dark eyes, the prominent slope of his nose that you quickly had to move on from to not let your mind wander too much... His hair was short with a few stray wisps flopping onto his forehead and you could have sworn you could spot a few streaks of grey in it too.

And then he turned to look at you and your father. He raised a brow, feigning surprise.

"Oh hello, Mr (L/n). It's been a very long time since I saw you last. And this must be..." his eyes drifted to you, his lips twitching.

"(Y/n), sir." You managed to say, feeling hot and flustered. You dad chortled.

"My lovely sunny is here to humor her old man! Don't spook her."

"Spook me?" You squeaked. Mr Hotchner chuckled and shook his head.

"He's referring to me profiling people as part of my job. It tends to freak people out." He explained to you in that delicious voice of his. "And please, call me Aaron. Calling me sir makes me feel old."

Aaron didn't look even the slightest bit annoyed, his smirk only growing as his eyes travelled up and down your figure. You shivered.

"I- I see... Could you tell me more about this, um, profiling stuff? I don't really know what you do for a living." You admitted. Aaron had ordered a bourbon, taking hold of the glass and sipping some of the deep orange coloured liquid and setting the glass down again.

"Oh? Well, seeing as you're curious..."

You barely remembered the meal you had ordered, more engrossed in the conversation you were having with this man. He was so fascinating, passionate and when the topic of his son came up his smile softened and he pulled his wallet out to show you a photo of the cute boy. That... hm. You didn't want to think about the fact that he had already been through something as involved as having a child with someone. There was no place for you to be thinking about this man any more than a daughter of his best friend should.

But here you were, spending the night chatting to the man effortlessly whilst your heart fluttered. It was only when your dad tapped you on the shoulder that you realised the evening was coming to an end.

"Hey sunny, I know you're having a great chat with Aaron there but it's time to get going." He said with a chuckle. Your eyes widened slightly and you scowled, shoving him with your shoulder.

"Say less dad, I beg." You shot back quickly, cheeks flushing as you followed along with him pushing away from the table and standing up. Your hands smoothed out your dress, making sure all was in place again and you shuffled closer to standing next to your dad. It was when Aaron rose up slowly from his own seat with an air of grace that you realised you had to crane your neck a bit to look him in the face. The corner of his mouth twitched at the slight widening of your eyes when he straightened up and you dipped your head quickly.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to try see you again. Although, I'm not certain on when that would be." He spoke, eyes focused on you. Your dad reached forward to shake his hand, seemingly oblivious to what was happening.

"Whenever you're back in town Aaron, you're free to come visit, my pleasure." He shook firmly, but Aaron was barely focussed. With an unwavering eye contact, his smirk widened. You could feel your legs trembling slightly under his fiery gaze.

"Oh, the pleasure is mine."

When their hands dropped, Aaron turned to you and offered to shake your hand as well, his hand smothering yours when you hesitantly reached out to take it. He gazed down at you, his thick lashes framing his gorgeous brown eyes.

"Until next time, (Y/n)." He said quietly and then turned around and walked away. Your dad raised a brow at you as you watched the older man retreat but merely chuckled once under his breath.

"Come on you, taxi's on its way." Your dad pulled you from your daze and you blinked, cheeks feeling warm for being caught staring. With a huff, you slapped your dad's shoulder when you noticed the growing grin on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

Over the next couple months, you saw Aaron briefly as he passed by in between cases. Each time, no matter for how short of a time, he would stop to chat and get to know you a little more. And every time you felt your crush grow stronger and stronger. But suddenly, he stopped showing up. You never heard from him, not a peep. Humiliatingly, when you idly asked your father if he had heard from the man he showed you the communications he had had from the last time Aaron had been in town to now. To say the least it left you feeling crushed and stupid.

Another month flew by after that before you saw Mr Hotchner again. For the first couple weeks you were secretly hopeful he would show up again, checking up every time you returned from work. But he never showed. And it... well, it didn't feel good to miss someone you had only met properly once and had a couple smaller conversations after that with. Maybe he knew you had a stupid crush on him and was put off from showing up. He had no reason to want someone like you, after all. By the sixth week since you'd seen the man last you'd forced yourself to move on from being hopeful.

And then when you returned home from work one evening you noticed an unfamiliar car parked at the end of the driveway. Tired, you paid it no mind and trudged up to the front door and let yourself in with your key. You shuffled into the house and locked the door behind you, then made a move to enter the living room.

"Hey, dad? I'm home." You called out. There was a scuffle of feet and the very same man appeared with a grin.

"Ah, there you are! We have a guest over, as you probably could tell." He said cheerily and you chuckled.

"Mhm, well I'll just go and change upstairs. Be back in a sec."

With a ruffle of your hair from your dad, you rushed upstairs and decided to take a shower to wash the exhaustion of the day away. After you'd dumped your bag on your bed, you grabbed your towel and a fresh set of lounging clothes to lay out on your bed and made your way to the bathroom which was down the hall. Avoiding looking in the large vanity mirror, you stripped and stepped under the warm water of the shower once you'd switched it on.

"Mmh.." you groaned as the water sprayed down your achy muscles. For a moment, you simply stood there with your eyes closed as you basked in the soothing sensation. A moment later you lathered your plush body with your favourite soaps, taking care to glide your hands over your every curve. Idly, you thought of him, of those hands of his. You switched the water to cold.

Feeling clean and relaxed, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped your towel around yourself. Now all there was to do was return to your bedroom. As you crossed the hall, you heard the tap of footsteps making their way up the staircase. As sneakily as you could, you peeked to see who was ascending and a little squeak escaped you against your will. Still just as devastatingly handsome as the last time you saw him, Mr Hotchner was gaining closer and closer to your location and with a quick jump of action you scurried the rest of the way to your room and all but slammed your door shut.

Your chest heaved, adrenaline pumped through you and shakily you towelled yourself off and redressed in the fresh clothing. Maybe it was better if you changed, you thought as you looked down at the slightly more fitted tank top and shorts you were sporting now.

"No, don't be ridiculous." You mumbled to yourself and after hanging your towel up to dry you forced your legs to move towards your bedroom door and back out to the hallway. It was when you made it to the top of the stairs he called out to you.

"Oh, (Y/n). I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were exiting the bathroom earlier." Aaron said smoothly, startling you to spin on your axel towards him. Shit, had he seen you?!

"Um, it's fine. No harm done." You mumbled in response, shifting your weight from one hip to the other under his dark gaze. His brow twitched.

"Right."

Much to your dismay, he was by your side quicker than you realised and the two of you descended down to find your dad. With every step, the back of Aaron's hand would brush against the side of your arm accidentally, causing goosebumps to spring up across your skin. What were you to say to this man now?

"It's...it's been a while since you were last in town." You said finally, internally wincing and wishing you'd stayed quiet. The man beside you hummed.

"Had an onslaught of back-to-back cases. This is the first time my team and I have been able to catch a break. And... well, we won't get into it just yet." Aaron responded, his exhaustion barely suppressed behind his words. You wanted answers, to know why he showed up now or all times. Of what he wouldn't get into. Instead, you made a barely audible noise in response.

Glancing at the man you realised he was full on frowning now and you cleared your throat, chest aching.

"Oh! I see you found her then, huh?" The sound of your dad's voice startled you and you quickly stepped away from the older man beside you. Rounding the corner, your dad appeared wearing a jacket and shoes over his clothes, confusing you.

"Dad? Where are you going?" You asked.

"Just going to the store to grab some food."

Aaron frowned and stepped forward, stuffing his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet.

"Here, let me head to the store or at least pay for the inconvenience." He said but your dad huffed and straightened out his jacket.

"No, you're our guest, Aaron. Now grab yourself a drink and relax, buddy."

Shaking his head but smiling, Aaron reluctantly stuffed his wallet away and raised his hands in defeat.

"Next time is on me, (D/n)."

"Deal." Your dad grinned, then he shifted his focus to you. "You be a good host now, got it?"

You grimaced.

"I mean I don't mind going, he's here to see you anyway so.."

"Nonsense, I'm here to visit both of you." The man beside you said, of which your dad chuckled.

"Well there you go, he said it himself. Now I'm going out so we're not waiting too late having dinner."

You scoffed at his words but inwardly your heart was pounding. He was seriously leaving you home alone with Mr Hotchner?! Your eyes flitted to the man, who was seemingly paying attention to your father as he moved towards the front door. It was only when you heard the slam of the door that it truly sunk in; you were home alone with the man you'd grown an embarrassingly big crush on while simultaneously feeling an unjustified anger towards.

On shaky legs, you shuffled towards the kitchen to grab a drink and calm your nerves. Just as you grabbed a glass from the cupboard he spoke.

"Are you alright?" Aaron's voice startled you once again and automatically your hand let go of the glass cup, a crash following as it smashed into glistening, sharp shards. You'd barely gasped when Aaron appeared crouched before you, picking larger shards up immediately.

"I'm sorry." He uttered, snapping you out of your startled trance. You crouched down as well as you shook your head vigorously.

"No, it's okay. It's my fault-"

You looked up and froze, realising your faces were far closer than you'd anticipated. He was frowning, then he straightened up rapidly to dump the shards of glass in his hands in the trashcan.

"Please, leave the clean up to me. I was the one who startled you. Besides, you haven't got shoes on right now. So, can you hop up on the counter top?" He asked you, his tone more firm than you'd heard before. It made your lower lip jut out. You made a noise of acknowledgement, straightened up and braced your palms on the counter top behind you to help yourself onto it. Aaron had turned back to you by this point, a wash of satisfaction traced over his more alert expression at the sight of you safely away from the shards on the ground.

"Vacuum?" He simply said. You winced.

"O-oh.. um, it's in the storage under the staircase."

With a nod, Aaron swiftly left the room, his footsteps echoing through the house. God, could you feel anymore embarrassed than you did already in that moment? He had to clean up after you because you were incapable of functioning around him. You wished you had a crush on someone nearer your age, at least they wouldn't find you so childish as you suspected Aaron did. With your head hanging low you didn't even notice him re-enter the room, not until he padded towards you carefully and set the vacuum down.

"Hey... it's alright, just an accident. I didn't mean to scare you." He said softly. You sniffled and shook your head.

"S'fine. I'm okay." You mumbled. He paused for a moment, then placed a hand on your knee.

"I'll just quickly clean this mess up, alright sweetheart? I'll be with you as soon as I can."

Your head shot up at the pet name, wet eyes wide as you studied his face. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, despite the concerned furrow in his brow.

"There you are. Just sit tight, don't want any glass to hurt you."

You watched as Aaron set up the vacuum cleaner and, crouched again, he hastily but thoroughly removed the debris from the floor. When he was satisfied, he unplugged the machine and lifted it up, the muscles in his arms bulging in his neat dress shirt. Your eyes followed him, but dropped away when he glanced your way.

"Um thanks, Mr Hotchner." You uttered and made a move to slide off the counter top. And then one of his long legs pressed against your shin, willing you to stay in place.

"Ah, ah, ah wait there." He muttered.

You quivered and shuffled back onto the counter top properly. What on earth..? You watched him leave again, swinging your legs nervously. Surely he had got rid of all the glass, right? You were unable to ponder for long when Aaron returned again, eyes on you as he approached. Your brows creased.

"Um I'm sure I can move, right? You got all the glass."

He hummed, stopping in front of you now, gaze still unwavering.

"Can't be too careful now, can we?" He said with a little smirk. You swallowed thickly.

"I..."

"May I talk to you about something?"

Your eyes trailed over his face, noting on an emotion you hadn't spotted upon first inspection. Slowly, you shook your head.

"Um yes, you can, Mr Hotchner."

He puffed air out of his nose.

"You don't need to be so formal with me, (Y/n)."

You dropped your gaze.

"Sorry, can't help it." You managed to say, feeling shy and silly. He leaned one hip against the counter beside you, crossing his arms against his broad chest.

"Don't apologise, sweetheart." He shifted his weight, now a little closer still to you. His scent enveloped you, it was soothing. "I... wanted to apologise for disappearing for a long time." He finally said. You shuddered.

"Um, it's okay-"

The sound of him clearing his throat silenced you and rendered you unable to do anything more than stare wide-eyed at him. He hummed and raised a brow.

"Sweetheart, you do know I can tell when someone is lying, right?"

Fuck.

"Mr Hotchner, sir I- I'm not lying, It's okay-"

Aaron moved suddenly, caging you in by placing his hands either side of your wide, plump hips and stared you down.

"Tsk. Don't be naughty by doubling down on lying." He gazed through his thick lashes now, leaning his face closer to yours. His scent overwhelmed you now and you bit back a whimper. "Come now, I upset you and I want to make things right."

You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped onto your shorts tightly, balling the fabric up in your tight fits.

"F-fine. I just... why did you stop visiting all of a sudden?" You wrinkled your nose a little and huffed. "God, I sound like a fucking weird-"

"No. Allow me to explain."

You exhaled quietly, not expecting him to cut you off like that. He sighed and lifted his hands up to rub his face.

"I... well, I had to distance myself from you. Not because I don't enjoy seeing you, it's more the opposite. I have feelings for you which I most certainly should not have, not as a friend of your father." He said, fumbling his thumb and pointer finger together.

You froze.

Was this really happening? Your heart felt like it was racing, your stomach coiling as you stared at him.

"I- Mr Hotchner, you..."

Aaron grimaced and shifted his weight, ready to step back from you.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I knew this was a bad idea to tell you, but I just thought you should know why I had started avoiding you." He said sincerely, then dropped his arms and turned his body.

You didn't know why you did it, but your hand shot out and you grabbed his shirt.

"-No! Don't- don't go!"

Aaron's breath hitched from your outburst, but he also didn't try to pull away from your touch either.

"(Y/n)..."

You felt warm, dropping your gaze whilst your fingers messed with the expensive fabric of his shirt.

"I- I don't want you to leave. You didn't make me uncomfortable." You mumbled. The man waited for you to continue speaking as you opened your mouth and closed it a few times. "I, um, I just wasn't expecting you to say you were interested in me."

Your eyes flicked to his face and you sucked your lower lip between your teeth at the furrowed expression on his face.

"You thought I wasn't interested in you?" Aaron's brows raised and he stepped a little closer towards you. "Sweetheart, I don't tend to talk to people outside of my close circle much at all, and, admittedly, I don't often visit people very often. But I just had to see you again."

His confession made you feel strange in a way you couldn't pinpoint on. Not necessarily bad, but a little unsure. Your eyes met his beautiful dark brown ones.

"Mr Hotchner, I don't see why you-"

"Call me that one more time and you'll be calling me sir instead." He cut you off sternly and you gasped. His left hand moved to rest on the counter just barely brushing against the outer side of your thigh and he leaned towards you, his face almost close enough for the two of you to kiss.

"I want you, sweetheart. I've spent the last few months trying to clear you from my thoughts," He paused to let out a small sigh. "However, you remain embedded within the foundations of my mind and I've come to accept this wholly. But just tell me if you don't want this and I will never bring this to you again, I promise."

Your eyes trailed over his face, tracing the creases and lines of age and you longed to feel them under your fingertips. You grabbed onto his arm.

"I-I want this... please. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you too." You confessed with a shy smile. Aaron chuckled through an exhale of relief and he began to close the gap between your lips and his.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Desperately, you pressed your lips to his and moved your hands to grip onto his broad shoulders. Responding to you, Aaron's hands moved to grab onto the squish of your hips, digging into them as he pulled you ever closer towards him. Now chest to chest, you whined against his mouth and instinctively, your legs parted enough for him to slip between.

All too soon, you parted for oxygen, your chest heaving and straining under your lounging tee. Aaron brushed his nose against yours sensually, his thumbs stroking your hips.

"I estimate your father will be gone for forty-five minutes at most." He murmured and you whimpered.

"Y-yes, maybe..."

"Sweet girl, I want to make sure you know how I feel, truly."

Your hands tightened their grip on the shirt.

"H-how?"

He chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

"If you'll let me, sweet girl, I want to pleasure you. We'll have to be quick though, at least this time round."

This time, this time. You felt light headed in the best way.

"W-what do you wanna do?" You hesitantly asked him. Aaron slid his hands to the expanse of your thighs with a hum.

"You don't know how much I wanted to slip my hand up your dress that night we met to touch your pretty pussy, sweetheart- "

"M-Mr Hotchner!" You squeaked, cheeks flushing from the dirty confession. A deep rumble reverberated through him and one of his hands lightly slapped your thigh. You jolted, but he held you in place.

"That's it, little girl. I don't want to hear any other title other than 'sir' from you now until I say so, is that clear?"

You nodded. Another slap, slightly closer to your inner thigh. You gasped out.

"Y-yes sir!"

Satisfied, Aaron hummed and grabbed onto your thighs and, with a hint of a smile, he pulled you closer to the edge and spread your legs wider. You yelped, hands grasping onto any part of him you could to steady yourself and he chuckled whilst pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth.

"Mhm, gonna let me take a look, sweetheart?" He murmured against your skin, fingers dancing along the waistband of your shorts. You whimpered.

"I-I-" Fuck, you didn't know what to even say. You'd done minimal things with others before, but they were underwhelming experiences and you preferred to close that chapter of your life. But here you were, sprawled out on the kitchen counter with your father's friend who was more than twice your age, trying to process what he had asked you.

Aaron brushed his nose against yours, bringing you from your racing thoughts.

"Aww, don't know what you want, sweet girl? It's alright, let daddy help you." He cooed. Almost immediately, your body spasmed with the way he addressed himself and he huffed out a quiet laugh. "You like that, huh? Like the thought of calling me daddy?"

You whimpered, hips rolling against his with need.

"Uh-huh, I do."

"Say it then, I want to hear it. Then I'll give you anything you want."

Your eyes widened at the commanding tone he used. Your pussy twitched.

"I- I do, daddy. Wanna call you daddy really badly."

"Mhmm.." Aaron pressed his lips to yours again and your hands gripped his shirt again. You could feel the prominent bulge in his pants against your clothed slit now, subconsciously grinding yourself against it. With a low growl, Aaron pulled his lips from yours sharply and his hands grasped your thighs to pin you in place. You whined, trying to push back and feel the friction against your pussy again.

"Behave, little girl. Now lift your butt up for me." He commanded you and, desperate for his touch, you propped yourself up on your elbows to raise your ass from the counter top. You vaguely heard him call you a good girl before he slipped his finger tips into the band of your shorts and, with a swift pull, he removed them. You squeaked, automatically closing your legs but Aaron growled, tugging your plush thighs apart again. Your chest heaved, arousal flaring within you as you realised he was staring directly at your panties. His mouth twitched.

"Pretty panties on such a pretty girl."

You whimpered when he let go of your right thigh to slide his thick fingers over a wet patch on the crotch of fabric. Your hips bucked, you hadn't realised just how pent up you were.

"D-daddy- please!" You pleaded and he cooed at you with a smirk.

"Want daddy to play with your little pussy, huh? We'll have to be quick if you wanna cum."

You nodded eagerly, grinding your hips against his fingers eagerly.

"Mmh- yes, sir!"

"Good girl. Hold your legs spread for me."

Hooking your hands underneath your knees, you trembled as Aaron moved his right hand to pull your panties to the side, revealing your slick, puffy pussy to him. He hummed in approval, ghosting his fingers over your folds and gathering some of your juices on the tips.

"You're so wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me?" He asked softly. You wiggled your hips a little.

"Y-yeah, daddy~ only for you..."

Aaron groaned as he parted your folds to reveal your hooded clit and dripping entrance.

"Next time I want to eat you out, sweet girl. You're fucking divine looking." He rumbled, swiping his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked immediately, Aaron hummed. "Gonna fingerfuck you this time, that sound nice, huh?"

"Mmmh, yeah daddy, need it!" You whimpered, at this point just desperate for anything. Aaron kissed you roughly, the sounds of both yours and his lips moving against one another made you squirm. But you gasped out when he slipped his thick middle finger into your entrance, taking you by surprise. And with a smug grunt, Aaron slid his tongue against yours to deepen the messy kiss. One finger became two, sliding in and out of your sopping wet hole and stretching you around the two digits.

The edge of his palm massaged your throbbing, little clit as he curled the fingers upwards inside you, searching for the spot that would have your toes curling. A sudden burning pleasure spread through your lower abdomen and you moaned against Aaron's mouth. You felt his lips curl into a smile, smug as he began to thrust the two fingers up inside you in an unbreaking movement. You heard it then, the messy, gushing sound of your pussy squelching in time with the rapid thrusts and you bucked up into it, feeling the burning pleasure begin to build up. You couldn't kiss back anymore, mouth fallen open now with every whimper and cry as the thrusts increased in speed. Aaron bit down onto your lower lip, then pulled away with a wet kiss.

"You're fucking clenching around daddy's fingers so well, sweetheart. You close, huh? You gonna cum for me?" He coaxed you, the hand that had originally been holding your panties to the side now pressed down on your plush stomach, leveraging his other hand's movement. You sobbed and writhed, eyes fluttering as you struggled to keep them open.

"G-gonna cu-um! Wanna cum, daddy!"

With a grunt, Aaron's fingers moved blindingly fast, your pussy's squelches echoing in the kitchen along with your wails. He pressed his lips to your neck.

"Fucking cum for me, sweetheart. Come on, that's a good girl. Cum." He growled at you. And as your pussy began to flutter and clench around his fingers he ripped them from your hole and instead brushed them over your almost neglected clit. It was almost instantaneous then, the arch of your back, the roll of your eyes, moaning brokenly as you cummed hard.

And then you heard the keys jingling in the lock of the front door.

"Fuck-" Aaron hissed, pulling his hand away and quickly grabbing your shorts so you could pull them back on again. You were shaking, struggling to pull the garment of clothing back on so you could slip off the counter top. You heard running water, spying Aaron washing his hands and when you met his gaze the two of you giggled, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"G-go up to the bathroom!" You whispered, gesturing to the prominent bulge in his crotch area. He huffed, but grinned and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

"We'll continue this another time, sweetheart." He whispered. He rushed off out of sight and, whilst on still shaky legs, you turned to wipe down the kitchen top just in time for your father to enter the room.

"Ah, you getting a head start with clearing up ready to eat?" Your dad greeted you and you bit your lip to hold back a giggle.

"Mhm, don't you know it."

Needless to say, Mr Hotchner ended up staying too late to drive home that night.

Not my best work I gotta say but 😔😔 hope yawl like it anyway SKSKSKSK

Gonna move the taglist to the comment section I think but yeah if you'd like to be tagged in future works lemme know!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader smut #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #aaron hotchner x plus size!reader #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #dbf!aaron hotchner #dbf!aaron hotchner x reader #nsfw.

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thefandomdirtymind · 1 year ago

Note

Would you be willing or interested in like either a small Drabble or fic about Sanji’s hands? Preferably with a chubby or plus sized reader? Like how he would grab them or pleasure them? Cause I am fucking obsessed with his hands and loving the work that you’re putting out ❤️❤️

A/N IMPORTANT: Hi ! Sorry for the wait, I had tried for a while to decide if I did an headcanon or a fic and my brain just decided a morning for me. The fact that the reader is a chubby or plus size is implied but without to much precision since every bodies are different and I succeed ( I still don't know how) to put 29 time the word hands in this ! I hope you will like it !

Under his touch (NSFW)

OPLA - Sanji x Chubby/Plus size reader

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

____

As you were sitting at the table in the kitchen. The declining light of the sun bathing of a golden orange, the pages of your book, the paper barricade lifted high enough to dissimulate your focused gaze.You couldn’t deny it any longer.

When you sat there, after the departure of the others for a visit to the near island, you were determined to advance yourself in your reading. But, as much as you had tried, if anybody would have asked you what your book was talking about, you couldn’t have, even at the price of your life, given them an answer.

For the past few minutes, you had been fixing the fascinating view that was the tall frame of Sanji, doing his preparation for the next day. But, more precisely his strong mid-sleeveless forearms and his hands, always in movement. His longs and slender fingers holding the knife and keeping firmly in place the diverse items he was chopping.

Yet, meal preparation and appreciation of his skilled talent at cutting julienne wasn’t exactly what was putting your mind in a spin. For days now, the thought of his capable hands on your body, caressing tenderly your skin, exploring every one of your curves, giving them the admiration they deserved and traces with his fingertips your stretch marks like it was the most exquisite piece of art he ever saw, had made you wonder if something didn’t go well with you. Never before have you had this kind of thought or fixation about the part of somebody, neither it had caused you all those sensations.

And then, the dream began, followed by the daydream until you couldn’t play the innocent anymore. You had a special kink for the hands of Sanji,in addition of the man himself.

The fantasy, day or night, were always mostly different by the way it was started and the various locations it takes place. Still, every which of them have the same point that Sanji was eager, in the same way he was about a new recipe or annoy Zoro, to show you how much pleasures he can gave you with his hands, before properly fuck you.

Holding your book more loosely, your mind slowly drifting, you almost could hear him calling you by one of his sweet french pet names. But as you were trying to understand which one, you realized that the voice wasn’t in your head.

“ * Ma douce, are you okay ? You haven’t changed your page for a while now. I know that those carrots are the most sexy things you've ever seen, even my omelette au fromage * on the counter is jealous, but it's still just a vegetable” Sanji chuckles, extracting you from your daydream. * My sweet , * Cheese omelet

“Oh sorry, I hm, I was just wondering how you cut those so quick without hurting yourself” You said, trying to hide the embarrassment of being caught fixing him.

“ It’s nothing more than practice and good hand placement. I can teach you if you want, come here.” He joyfully replied, well intended and excited to share his cooking interest.

Putting down your book, you joined him behind the kitchen island, your nervous breath slightly caught in your throat when he held your waist to place you in front of the cutting board, before placing himself behind you. His warm breath brushed slightly the tips of your ear, as he was giving you the knife and positioning your hands.

“ So now love we will place our finger like this “ He said, helping you adjust your grip on the carrot.” And we will cut at this distance, retreating gradually our fingers without releasing your hold. We wouldn’t like it to slip and cut that pretty skin of yours “

“ Of course” You simply answer, the sensation of his body against yours after so many days of languin, making you quite hot.

You were only at the second carrot and archived to reach a good pace, when he sadly left you back, clearing his throat.

“ hm, hm, mon coeur, even if I enjoy your company and your help I think I will have to finish it myself…” The blond tells, trying to smile as well as strangely avoiding your gaze.

“ I know that my cuts are a little bit uneven but I thought…” You start before he interrupts you.

“ It’s not it mon coeur, you did well, it’s more if we continue like that I’m afraid I wouldn’t longer be able to only be your friend. Being enveloped by your scent, feeling all those marvelous curves against me, it’s like Icarus and the beautiful sun,... I’m not that strong…” He confessed, clearly embarrassed, putting aside the collar of his striped shirt.

“ Maybe I don’t want you to only be my friend” You at your turn confessed, surprised by his reaction. Sanji was an obvious but gentlemanly flirt, but never you saw him as flushed for only a few touches. “ For days now I think at more…intimate things”

Taking a moment to register your answer. Sanji slowly approached you, cupping the side of your face with one of his hands, his thumbs softly brushing against your lower lips.

“ Then I should maybe show you how I would gladly burn for you” He whispered before taking possession of your mouth.

Your lower back pressed against the island, the food long forgotten. His feverish hands were traveling on your still clothed body, trying to remove or put aside the fabrics to reach your soft bare skin, his mouth covering your neck and throat of kisses, leaving this and there love bites. Unbuttoning his shirt and helping him remove the frustrating clothes, until you finally stood in the simplest of your underwear. The nervous thought of your often insecure body washing away under his amazed gaze.

“ Magnifique* “ Sanji said, throwed his shirt behind him, as his eyes encompassed you whole. * Magnificent

Pushing aside the neglected prep items. The blond cook tenderly took your waist, sitting you on the surface, chuckling at the little surprise noise you made as you bare ass met the wooden surface.

As he let his hands roaming free on your body, caressing your side and slowly spreading your thighs, you felt his finger digging in your plum flesh, lazily advancing in the direction of your warm center.

“ You know, I think I could become really intoxicated by all this. All this skin to explore, to mark, to flustered, to make mine” Sanji said “ Please, let me enjoy every inches of you Y/N“

Nodding of the head,as your breath became more and more panting and he pushed aside the silky fabric of your bra while his mouth explored your breast, taking between his lips your hardened nipples and sucking on them gently. You tried to regain a certain clarity of mind, yet, you knew at the minute his digits reached your cunt that it was an already lost battle. His fingertips brushing against the covered lips of your pussy and his thumbs nonchalantly rub your clits, you let escape a anticipation sigh.

“ Please, allow me” Your lover asked, waiting for your full consent, kissing your jaw. “ I will make you feel so good I promise, I will make you dance on my fingers, cry of joy under my palm, I want to find your special spot and I will take no rest before finding it“

“ Sanji,please, push those in me before I lose my mind “ You pleaded, his sweet promise making you head spin.

The most adorable and joyful smile you had seen plastering his face, Sanji complied, helping you to remove the coton obstacle before sliding it in his pants pocket. His pace, at first, was slow and steady, letting you adjust around his digits, his thumb playing a warming game of brush and rub against your clits. But, as your body quickly accommodates, he gradually took more speed, drinking every one of your praises like a good wine.

“ Oh please don’t stop, so good Sanji, so good ! “ You moan against his mouth, rolling your hips.

“ You're so pretty when you dance on my hand like that, yes just like that ma douce “ He encouraged you, his hand pistoning in and out of you, his other helping your hips moving.

Like he promised, he takes no rest, making you come on his fingers, his gaze glued to the magnificent vision of your form going undone.

It was during the time you were getting down from your orgasm, Sanji fingers still buried in you, that he discovered your sensitive spot, accidentally pushing it as he was repositioning his finger.

“ Sanji ! “ You exclaimed, gripping his forearms in support.

“ What mon coeur, did I find an interesting spot ? “ He asked, pushing it again, watching you close your eyes and almost lose your mind, before repeatedly playing with it, pushing you off the edge over and over.

“ Sanji wait, too much,please that too much, wait” You beg, your thigh shaking under the overstimulation of your g-spot and his palm rubbing against your pulsing clits.

A proud smile on his lips and the ocean blue of his eyes darken by lust. He slowly removed his digit from your center, watching you getting down from your euphoria. He patiently licked his fingers clean, groaning like if your taste was the best flavor in the world.

“ Mon coeur, if you let me. In a really near future, I would love to take my time and savor you again, being in a rush like this will not give me enough time, but I swear to taste you again until your butter soft thighs close around my head and shakes ” He promised you, tracing of his fingers the pattern of your mother nature given tattoos on your hips, his eyes never living yours.

“ Yes please “ You replied, capturing his lips in a kiss, tasting on them your own arousal.

Opening his pants, gladly freeing his aching cock, taking your turn to explore him with your fingertips ,your name on his lips, as he grabbed your ass hard enough to leave fingerprints bruises.

“ Love, you’re really determined to put me on my knees or be the end of me isn’t it?“ He panted, accusing the regular stroke and movement of your hand along his already sensible length.

Yet,It didn’t take long for you to feel him inside you again, you delicious torture reducing him as a begging mess to feel your warm around his cock.

Helping you to lie down on the island kitchen, resting your legs on his shoulder, he carefully penetrated you, his groan and moans mixing with yours as he thrusted in you in a steady rhythm, adapting his pace to your expression of pleasure.

The noise of your skins slapping against each other and your moaning filling the kitchen, you felt the turmoil in your body growing, making grip the border of the table , your hips lifting off the surface by themselves.

“ Sanji I…I will come “ You cried out, reaching for his hands that he gladly gave you to hold.

“ I’m really close too, mon coeur. Seeing you like that, so pretty and in that pleasure state in my own kitchen, I would never imagine so much beauty “ He said, his voice showing his struggle to keep his hips to buckle.

But,as he pushed further in you, making your orgasm burst and seeing stars. You felt his dick twitch as he came,letting escape in a whine the most beautiful way you had ever heard your name.

As you were both putting back your clothes, exchanging kisses and glances, you heard the rest of the crew coming back from their island excursion. Luffy being like usual, the loudest. Giving a last glance to be sure that the kitchen was like is usual self , at the exception of the recently open window, you smile to Sanji, taking back your place with your book as he bend above you to whispered in your ears.

“ Don’t forget your promise mon coeur, I haven’t finished exploring every inch of your beautiful body, neither will I soon forget your taste in my tongue” Sanji smiles, leaving a last kiss on your lips before washing his hands and returning to his carrots.

Trying to bring back your attention to your book, a smile on your lips, you knew that no daydream would ever beat those past and future moments.

—–

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orchidyoonkook · 2 years ago

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To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 1

Title: Assembly’s and Introductions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Mild Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: There’s a new kid at your prestigious university, he’s tall, tattooed and muscular, and oh yeah, he’s the Prince.

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, a general ‘lets get the ball rolling’ first chapter

Word Count: 5410

Release Date: January 26, 2023, 12:40PM

A/N 1: I’ve been working on this since September 2022, got 80K in, and have accidentally taken an extended break from Dec 1st until now. I need a kick in the pants to continue writing it so here’s the first chapter. I hope you enjoy as I have read this about 400 times and I’m sick of editing it.

A/N 1.5: it’s pronounced ‘Nehl” not “Neal”

“Come on, come ooooon!!” Yuri says as she drags you by one arm down the corridor, the other filled with books and study notes. You’re being dragged from your mid morning study session and she's starting to stretch your favourite sweater from how hard she’s pulling.

Slipping from her grasp to save it from any permanent damage, Yuri uses her new freedom to take the lead.

“Not everyone cares as much about this as you do,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I get you’re here because your parents put you here but I worked for it. I can’t just abandon my study plans for some guy,” voice echoing in the corridor as you succeed in keeping up with her quick pace.

Yuri mocks your words in gibberish, matching your tone, just more nasally.

She’s heard this hundreds of times since becoming your best friend in first year after being assigned your roommate. She may force you to go to places and parties you don’t find nearly as important as she does, but you also know she’s the only reason you’ve had any fun since starting university.

That doesn’t deter you though.

“I’m serious,” you insist, refusing to back down.

A look you know well flashes over her face. One that’s a mixture of absurdity and exhaustion— specifically at you.

“You know, sometimes I can’t even believe we’re friends. He’s not just some guy YN,” she looks over her shoulder to make eye contact. “He's the prince.”

Ah yes, the prince.

How could you be so foolish?

The fancy name given to the poor bastard who doesn’t get to decide his future—or work for it for that matter. Just has it handed to him because he was born at the right place, right time.

The prince who’ll be king to the biggest nation in the west one day.

The prince everyone freaks out over.

Sure, he’s cute enough, and will eventually have lots of money and power, because those are so important for someone like him.

But what’s money and power if you’re miserable or an asshole or you don’t know what to do with it? What’s money and power for someone who’s never known poverty and helplessness?

The title of Prince means nothing if you don’t earn it. Means nothing if you don’t know how to use it properly.

Who knows if this one does? So why should you particularly care?

Unfortunately, most people can’t get past the ‘young, handsome, future king of the Western Shores, hunk-a-hunk of dreamy’—blah, blah, blah, the media splatters over every magazine cover they possibly can, earning the prince a hefty social following of adoring, screaming—slightly brain dead if you had any say about it— ‘followers’ aka fans.

And Yuri, like every other girl on campus, is one of them. Minus the brain dead and screaming.

Well…Sort of minus the screaming.

She has screamed, in the past at least. So maybe just minus the brain dead part…

Anyways, she’s grabbing your wrist and you sigh, wringing yourself free of her near iron grip, again. But you can’t blame her.

Yuri’s focused on one thing, and one thing only.

And it’s beginning in 15 minutes.

“Plus I want good seats!”

You scoff.

“He’s just a person, Yuri. I get he’s got an important title and fancy job, but that’s all that separates him from us.”

She glares at you as you reach the courtyard of your school.

Trees surround the perimeter in evenly placed lines, a large running fountain at its center. There’s plenty of open grass space the students use to study, picnic or throw a ball around on. And its cobblestone walkways are currently covered in rows upon rows of filled up seats.

Most of those filled seats are in the middle though, which surprises you. You would’ve thought girls would be lining up at the front row to see their prince.

“Yeah, just the title and fancy job,” Yuri says, taking her turn to scoff and opens her hand to count on her fingers. “Let's not count the fact that he’s insanely hot—have you seen his body? His face? Or what of the land he’ll inherit on top of the land he already owns? And money! Can’t forget that. Or clothes. Not enough? I can keep going,” she switches to her other hand. “How about control over the largest kingdom in The West? They don't call him ‘Prince of the Western Shores’ for nothing, Sweets. Also the mass of adoring fans, security and advisors following his every move, nice cars, fancy vacation houses…should I keep going?”

You’re pretty sure she only stopped because she ran out of fingers and you don’t deign her with a reply. Yuri seems content to have made her point and she did.

But you’d never admit that to her. Instead you keep walking, taking in the sights around you.

Your school is The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts. Anyone can study here if they have the cash, or the brains, though one method is much more abused than the other.

It’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world because it’s where nearly every royal on this half of the continent goes to university. Hence the “Royal'' in the title.

Ladys, lords, dukes, duchesses, princesses and yes, princes all go here—are most of your classmates, actually. But there is only one prince everyone cares about. The one who, in the next few short years, will not only be at your school for whatever it is his father deems appropriate for him to study in his post secondary education, but the one who is also first in line and heir to the biggest kingdom in The West—if it hadn’t been mentioned before.

His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

Okay… look.

It’s not that you don’t like him, he hasn’t done anything to make you hate him, and you’re sure he’s a decent guy once you get to know him.

It’s just that you don’t really feel any type of way about him, positive or negative. And that confuses so many people around you.

Which in turn, confuses you.

Most people seem to think he’s some sort of god sent angel carved by the hands of whoever created the universe. Fawning over him and thinking he can do no wrong. But what they all fail to see is that he’s just like them.

Got a bit more of a leg up on life than most, sure, but still human. Like you, or Yuri.

He eats and showers and uses the bathroom. He gets a runny nose and puffy eyes when he’s sick. He has bad hair days and ties his own shoes… you think.

He’s just a regular guy with an irregular job. So no, you had no opinion on him other than disinterested neutrality.

But if you had to feel something? You guess you probably felt pity.

You worked your ass off in highschool to get where you are. You and your mom screamed until your voices were hoarse when you got your acceptance letter two and a half years ago. One of 25 scholarship students accepted on a full ride every year.

You were doing a major in fine arts and a minor business, wanting to milk your education for all it’s worth on their dime. Lucking out that your two areas of interest were not only at one school, but at one of the best schools in the world for both subjects.

You chose what you wanted for your life and you worked for it for years. And now you sit comfortably at the top of your class in both fine arts and business, not taking your opportunity for granted for a second.

Jungkook though? He’s expected to go here. Doesn’t have much of a choice about it, and he doesn’t have to work for it either.

A small part of you that has yet to mature envies him for how easy he has it, for the privileges he is given simply because of one six letter word in front of his name. That he didn’t have to put in 60 hour weeks and give up his teenage years just to prove he was good enough to be here.

He was born good enough.

But that’s a small part of you, and you can ignore it if you try hard enough.

The point is you felt pity because he’s probably never had to work for something a day in his life. He doesn’t know the satisfaction of working towards something, to not only succeed, but to be the best.

To earn what he has.

He won’t know what to do when real life hits him.

Yuri lets a baby scream loose as she spots her desired seats and yanks you out of your thought spiral.

The front of the courtyard is still relatively empty, middle still filling up faster than anything else.

“Yes! Score! First row, left side, that’s perfect! He'll definitely see us.”

She grabs your arm a third time and it’s an effort not to drop your books and groan at her.

Yuri’s like you in the sense where she is not royalty, but unlike you she—or should you say, her parents—are loaded.

Family business perks.

She’s here because she can be, because her family can afford to send her and make donations, not because she wants to be or because she worked for it.

But don’t misunderstand that, Yuri works hard. She just happens to party more than she studies most days. That and plan her future with a very rich and handsome guy who has yet to be determined.

You’d jokingly deemed her a royalty hunter after about an hour of meeting her for how badly she wanted to ‘marry up.’

“See you,” you correct, or has she forgotten about Nel, your boyfriend of 5 years? Your high school sweetheart and who is currently, much to your dismay, at school about 5000 miles away.

“I’m sure Cornelius wouldn’t be mad if the prince charms his girl just once, seeing as his royal highness can do that to most people just by breathing near them,” she quips. ”And even if he would get mad, Jungkook can just have him thrown in a dungeon for being overprotective and jealous.”

“The royal palace doesn’t have dungeons, but they do have a series of interrogation rooms on the third lower level,” you inform her. You did a project on the history and architecture of the royal palace in tenth grade—and Nel really wouldn’t care, he knows where he stands, just like you do.

“How do you just know that!”

Yuri didn’t know you in highschool and you used that to your advantage every single time you could, laughing bright and loud.

She starts dragging you down the walkway again, a habit of hers. Like she’s worried you’ll try to slip away if she isn’t forcing you where she wants you to be.

It’s a good instinct on her part.

You're nearly there, so you focus more on the trees just starting to turn colours overhead, casting slightly pigmented shadows on the ground. Fall is just starting to creep up on the heels of summer, the days of sunscreen and chlorine slowly being replaced by pumpkin spice and crisp apples.

She sits exactly where she wanted too, and you plop beside her, glad you’re wearing a light sweater and tights. They are just warm enough to keep the slight breeze from giving you chills, but also keep your legs from sticking to the plastic seats.

For such an expensive school to go to you’d think they’d have better assembly furniture.

You notice a news camera off in the distance and suddenly understand the empty front seats. No one wants to publicly embarrass themselves on national television from seeing the prince, rewindable and replayable, forever seared into the internet.

It’s times like these you’re happy you’ve never been one to get starstruck. They’re all just people, why be shocked or surprised when they exist near you?

Opening up your books on your lap, you figure you can kill the next ten minutes in a productive way, considering what happened to your original plans for the mid morning.

And as you do, you feel the seats around you begin to fill, not a single one empty by the time the event starts. Not even the ones up front.

A jerked movement catches your eyes and you see that two seats closer to the pedestal from Yuri is Adaline.

Great.

Adaline Dupree is basically a princess from the Eastern Shores. ‘Basically’ because she’s not, but she certainly acts like she is. A fake princess, an even bigger royalty hunter than your best friend and your not so secret arch nemesis.

She’s in your fine arts classes—all of them, unfortunately—her proper title being ‘Duchess of…’ some province you never bothered to learn the name of, and she’s one of the most well known people on campus.

Tall, with beautiful blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles, a slim figure and quite the socialite. You’re surprised she went into fine arts and not modeling. She’s got the ego part of the job down pat.

Good for her for being pretty. But anyone could be beautiful on the outside with enough money and a surgeon. That’s not why you considered her your nemesis, you don’t give a shit about any of that.

She was your nemesis in the academic world. Because not only was she beautiful, she was also brilliant at her craft.

Which happened to also be your craft, and it pissed you off to no end.

Where you were first, she was second and where she was first, you were second. Always neck in neck with one another, always trying to one up each other.

You only considered yourself better than her because unlike her, you hoped at least, Adaline was a complete and total bitch. She took what she wanted without remorse and she wasn’t above sabotage to get it.

You learned that the hard way in your first year. And you’ve always wondered if that was her privileged upbringing speaking or if she’s just like that naturally, so unused to not getting what she wanted that she’d take it.

Therefore, it is of absolutely no shock to you that she’s sitting as close as she possibly can to where the prince will be standing. Directly in front of the pedestal at the base of the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

A door opens to your right followed by a couple screams, and you can only assume the man of the hour has arrived. A red camera light flicks on in your peripheral vision and you take that as your confirmation and cue to close your books.

The Dean of Schools, a few advisor looking people, a good handful of terrifyingly large security guards, and a head of black hair you conclude to be the prince all make their way towards their destination.

A smirk graces your face at all the girls batting eyelashes or screaming his name, as if that would get his attention. You’re about to mention that exact thought to Yuri, but you notice her eyelashes looking awfully similar to those around you and can’t help failing to stifle a laugh.

She catches it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “You might just want to pick your jaw up off the ground.”

Her response gets cut off when a voice comes over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for such a warm welcome,” says the Dean, calm and assured. She knew exactly the welcome they'd receive. “I’ll keep my introduction short. Today, I present to you not only the newest addition to The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts, but the future King of our great nation. He has requested to formally address the student body before he starts classes this fall semester, so without further adieu: His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.”

Riigghht. Did you mention he was the prince of the country you’re living in?

Well…he is.

The crowd soars in volume once more, a couple “I love you’s” thrown in for good measure as the prince steps up and you zone out.

From your angle, you can see his whole body from the side, and that even though he’s holding cue cards, he doesn’t use them, placing them face down on the pedestal.

His dark hair is swept back in a suave styling and he’s wearing a simple navy long sleeve button up, black dress pants and matching leather shoes.

The outfit makes him look ever so princely and very much not like a student. More like one of the faculty.

However, what you don’t expect are the small patches of ink on his arm peeking out of his right sleeve. Or just how tight the clothes he wears are on his apparently very muscular form.

You remember Yuri’s words from earlier, only now registering. You knew he had muscles, no one ever shut up about them. But seeing them in person… wow.

You kind of want to sketch him—for anatomy practice, of course.

The prince begins his address to the crowd and an eerie silence replaces the roars from earlier. You take a quick look around and notice that not one person isn’t completely transfixed on him. Even the dean can’t keep her eyes off him.

You give him credit for not balking under the intense gazes of literally everyone. You know you sure as hell would have, never being one to like being the center of attention. At least, not like this.

You clue into his speech as you look back at him. He’s talking about how he found himself as a teenager thinking of what he wanted his future to look like and what he wanted to do with his schooling, which is not only why he took a couple years to explore the continent before enrolling, but why he will be doing a major and a minor at the school.

One for his career, and one for his heart.

You won’t admit to yourself that the sentiment very closely resonates with you.

He continues.

“All that said, I asked to address you all today for one very simple reason, being that, for my time here at the academy, I wish to be treated like any other student. I am not unaware of my celebrity and how I am seen to the outside world. It is not lost on me my place in the world and who I am to become. I know for some that it may be… difficult to see me for anything other than who I am, and this is why I ask you humbly, just for the short while that I’m here, you all treat me no differently than you already do one another,” he pauses for a moment. “I extend my request most deeply to those who will be studying alongside me in my business administration major and photography minor, as I don’t want it to affect my studies.”

Yuri slaps her hand down onto your leg causing you to jerk forward and you clamor to not drop any of your books. Business administration is her major. Her parents want her to take over the family biz after school.

That was probably why she partied so much. Living as much as she can before being thrust into a job she doesn’t want for the rest of her life.

Pity creeps back up your throat at the thought.

Jungkook notices your jerking movement, but only for a second. His eyes meet yours and you hope yours convey ‘sorry for interrupting’.

You may not care about him, but just like him you are not unaware of his status in the world outside the walls of your school.

Yuri, of course, thinks he’s looking at her and not only does her grip on your leg tighten to the point of circulation cut off, she returns to her earlier routine of batting her eyelashes.

You roll your eyes away from her sight, but unbeknownst to you, well within the gaze of Jungkook.

He suppresses a smile at your response to your friend's clear attempts to gain his attention.

You, on the other hand, seem indifferent to him. He has the entire student body watching his every move with hawk-like precision, enraptured. Normal, for him.

But you?

You just seem to… not care. Like he wasn’t anyone special. Like the word in front of his name meant nothing.

And if it wasn't the most freeing feeling he’s felt in a long time.

“Thank you so much for your time, and I’ll see you all around campus,” he finishes before stepping down, security wrapping around him again until he’s barely visible. The dean pops up to conclude the gathering but you aren’t paying attention anymore, too busy trying to peel Yuri’s hand off your thigh.

“Yuri, retract the claws please!” you whisper-yell to your friend. And she does in fact, retract instantly.

“Shit, sorry. My brain is running a million miles a minute,” she says as she pinches herself, shaking her head and smiling. “I’m three years ahead of him in his major. His major YN! But he’s still older than us, which is so hot. I'm so glad he did that tour in the east and whatever else that kept him back for a couple years, it makes this whole situation even better,” you start to worry at the look in her eye as she continues.

“What if he needs a tutor? What if I become his tutor, and we fall in love like a cliche romance movie. I could be the future queen. YN, this could actually happen for me. I could actually get the prince, it’s not some wild dream anymore. I could talk to him and he would talk back and this could happen.”

You can feel that she’ll just keep spiraling, nothing being able to stop her train of thought at this point, so you try your best to at least have her do her thinking in her head.

“Maybe! I wish you nothing but luck!” And you mean it. You don’t think it will happen the way she does, but you never know. And you don’t want to give her false hope.

You’ve always been the realist to Yuri’s optimist.

With the assembly over, most of the crowd files out of the courtyard quickly, prior plans calling to them or classes starting soon.

Only a few stragglers are left behind. You and Yuri are two of them, as well as Adaline, and a couple more you don’t know.

Security starts to spread out and you watch as Jungkook makes his way to the people farthest from you, much to their delight.

It’s a group of guys, all of whom look muscular enough to be varsity athletes. Maybe Jungkook will want to do sports while he’s here. You know that he’s an accomplished rugby player, greatly to his fathers dismay, but to the pleasure of anyone who has about $10 and has access to magazines or wifi.

“Oh my god he’s making his way over. Do. Not. Move. I want him to come to us,” Yuri says, forcing you to stay in your spot. It would be fruitless to try anything anyway. Another lesson you learned the hard way in first year.

She starts fluffing her hair and asking you to check her teeth. You do. She’s in the clear.

Unfortunately, you two would most likely be the last people he greeted, so you had to watch as he made his way down the line of people.

He greets the guys with a handshake and a clap to the back, and the girls with a kiss to the top of the hand.

One thing you notice as he meets more and more people is that everyone still calls him ‘prince’ or ‘your highness.’

It’s automatic for them, they’re not even thinking twice about it, but it’s also completely besides the point of half of his whole speech. He wanted to be treated like everybody else.

It especially irked you when it was Adaline’s turn and she put on her most feminine, formal, and ridiculously overly flirty, “Hello, Prince Jungkook,” before curtseying, blasting her full facade of charm and courteousness.

Ever the dainty, prim and proper duchess, she’s all small laughs and less than subtle flirting, never impolite, and never speaking out of turn.

You wanted to gag, and you’re quite sure that’s exactly what your face conveyed. But Jungkook smiles wide for her, and is as kind to her as he was to everyone else prior. He even flirts back a little bit.

Yeah, you definitely want to gag. What a match those two would make.

But just as soon as he greets Adaline and her friend, he politely steps away and moves on to you and Yuri.

“Hello ladies, what might your names be?” he asks ever so formally.

You gently laugh at being called a lady and Yuri shoots you a look. Jungkook doesn’t appear to take offense though.

“Hello, your highness!” Yuri chirps in the most ‘I'm trying to flirt but trying to not sound like I’m flirting’ voice you’ve ever heard her use. “My name is Yuri Yeun, and I’m actually a business admin major too, just a few years ahead.”

Jungkook lifts her hand to his mouth, giving it a light kiss and she looks like she’s about to explode.

“It’s lovely to meet you Yuri, I’ll look forward to seeing you around the halls,” he says in the same tone he’s used for everyone else. He’s about to face you, but Yuri cuts in quickly.

“If you ever need any help with your studies, just let me know. I’d be happy to help you with anything you might need help with. Having already been through it, I may be able to give a students insight versus a professors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Thank you for your generosity.” Again that same tone, you mentally dub it his ‘greeting the public like the ever so good royal I am’ voice.

He turns to you and extends his hand for yours.

You reach for it, twisting it so that instead of a hand turned upright to be kissed, it’s a regular handshake. If he wanted to be treated like anyone else here, you sure as hell were going to.

“I’m YN, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.” At the mention of his name untitled, he pauses, eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not a bad pause, just a surprised one. And by the looks of the small smile on his face, a good one.

Yuri's eyes, on the other hand, almost bug out of her skull at your informal greeting.

“Likewise,” he manages to get out, completely unlike his usually composed self.

You're the only one who hasn’t addressed him with his title, and it’s the most like him he’s ever felt.

Twice in one day—in one hour—you’ve managed to make him feel more human and more like himself than he ever has. With your distinct indifference to him of all things.

Jungkook decides then and there he’s very sure he wants more of it in his life.

He still hasn’t stopped shaking your hand, and you don’t know why that’s the only thing you can focus on. His hand is firm and calloused, the kind that can only be built over years of hard work.

Releasing you the second you think it, he looks as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding on too.

Quick to step back into his princely role, Jungkook says, “Pardon my forwardness, but I just have to say that the two of you are beautiful, and that it’s been lovely to meet you both.”

You swear you see Yuri’s soul ascend from her body at his words. “Thank you, Your Highness! That means so much coming from someone as well met as yourself,” she nearly fawns, and you roll your eyes out of her sight for the second time today.

And for the second time today, Jungkook does not let the gesture go unnoticed. How you hold no fear in showing how you feel in front of others, even those you’ve just met. As if it holds no consequence.

It doesn’t for you, he realizes.

You can freely show how you feel without worry of anyone over-analyzing your every facial tic. No fear that a slight misuse of a lip quirk or eyebrow raise could give away national secrets or offend a visiting diplomat.

He envies you for it. For having that freedom he so rarely does.

“You’re most welcome, Yuri. I’m glad you hold my opinion in such high regard.” He flashes her that well practiced bright smile and you already know what she won’t be shutting up about it anytime soon.

“I’ve always been told I have my fathers bone structure but my mothers beauty. I’ll be sure to let them know their Prince thinks the combination is worth complimenting,” you respond, not braggadocious or sarcastic in the slightest.

You know it would make your mom so proud to hear the future king found you pretty, even if you knew the compliment was given to every girl here.

Your father wasn’t in the picture, but that didn’t matter and the prince didn’t need to know.

“I hope they won’t mind a stranger's compliment on their daughter then,” Jungkook says, ducking his head slightly and giving you a smaller smile.

This one felt genuine, like he wanted to hold it back but couldn’t. So you return a small one of your own, to let him know this was an even exchange. You may not feel any type of way about the prince, but you were raised to be kind.

“Any praise for their daughter from the future King would be welcomed any day, I’m sure,” Yuri cuts back in, killing his smile along with it.

You’re sad to see it go.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he responds, princely public persona back on. Stupid flashy smile back on. “What will you two be heading off to do now?”

“What I wanted to be doing for the last half hour in the first place before being hauled down here by this one,” you point a thumb at Yuri. “Finishing my study hour at the library,” you add quickly, before Yuri can get out her answer. You almost wish you hadn't because the hand that had your thigh in a death grip earlier now only somewhat playfully swats your shoulder.

“YN!”

“What!? I’m just being honest. He wants to be treated like anyone else right? That comes with people being honest to you instead of glazing over their answers with pretty little white lies to appease you.”

Yuri looks ready to rip you a new one, but she’s cut off again before she can open her mouth. This time by the prince.

“No, no it’s okay,” Jungkook says before she can swat you again. She stops mid swing at his words, eyes as wide as saucers at being stopped. “YN’s right, I appreciate the honesty, and I apologize for the interruption. I hope your studies will not be too greatly affected because of it.”

“Guess we’ll find out during midterm season,” you say with a smirk that turns into a genuine smile as you see Jungkook look panicked, like he actually thinks he messed up your education by disturbing your study session.

Relief quickly replaces the panic when he sees your smile and realises it was a joke.

Being treated like a regular person also meant being joked with at their expense, and he takes it in stride as his small smile from earlier makes a comeback.

“Well I have class in half an hour,” Yuri says, finally answering his question, “So probably grabbing a coffee from the cafe near the biz-admin building… I could show you if you want?”

“That sounds great actually, I’m still trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Great! Let’s go.”

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, lifts an arm for her to take and you watch them walk off, Yuri absolutely beaming as she glances back at you. You give her a thumbs up before collecting your books and heading back in the direction of the library.

Chapter Two: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

A/N 2: and so it begins.

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