#so embarrassing that he did all that and it didn’t even work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yourislandgirl · 11 hours ago

Text

⍣*°:⋆ THIS AIN’T NO PHASE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ || OT7 엔하이픈 x fem!reader || headcanons

summary: how enhypen would act as reader’s down bad classmate

genre: fluff, romance, non-idol!enhypen x non-idol!reader, somewhat high school au except it’s not that in-depth, lowkey enha as simps

warnings: can’t think of anything major, attempts at humour, intentional lowercase btw

[archive]

・❥・ 희승 // heeseung

totally the show off type, he sneaks glances at you after he accomplishes something on the first try to make sure you noticed (will end up sulking for like an hour if you were looking elsewhere)

learns new skills just to show you, like you’ll offhandedly mention something about the bass guitar in a new viral song and within a week he’ll have learnt it by sneaking into the school’s music room and using their bass. he has no clue when, if ever, he’ll get the chance to show you, but if that time comes, he’ll be prepared

definitely the kind of guy that likes testing the waters with pick up lines and lowkey flirting, he also knows he’s attractive — which is always bad news when the guy knows — so he would totally give you a beautiful smile and a corny joke of some kind, his eyes darting back and forth to study your reaction

never wanted to make a fool of himself around you until the one time he embarrassed himself a little and you let out the most enchanting laugh, he swears the skies parted. from then on, it didn’t always matter to him how he looked and presented himself, he became less critical of himself, because if he could make you smile, or better yet, laugh? that would make his day

more under cut!

・❥・ 종성 // jay

much more of a conversationalist than you’d expect — totally starts unprompted conversations on various topics just to hear your perspective and he always asks for your opinion because it means the most to him, except . sometimes you have no opinion on some of the things he asks, so there’s just this odd silence afterwards

will usually have homecooked meals that he makes himself or has leftovers from super expensive restaurants that your other classmates have been waiting months to get a reservation to, and he always shares that food with you, like your entire friend group would get their share but he’d save the best part for you and he always asks if you liked it afterwards because he's storing that information away for potential future dates

there are far too many times he “accidentally” bought an extra snack or dessert from the cafeteria and, well, we wouldn’t want that to go to waste now, would we? so he’ll just casually slide it over to you, like it’s the most normal thing to do

very acts of service, all you’d need to do is just grumble under your breath about your pen being shitty and almost out of ink and he’s bringing out his two best pens and handing them to you. or say you guys are doing an experiment in your chemistry class, he’s immediately getting all the equipment, you don’t need to move at all, (oh, but, he loves following your lead for the actual experiment — the kind of guy that goes “whatever you wanna do”, to which you’d reply “um, technically it’s not up to me, jay. if we do these steps out of order, we could blow up the classroom” . “oh, right”)

・❥・ 재윤 // jake

really giggly around you, like, really giggly. everything you say is hilarious to this man. stand up comedy who? he’d actually be so amusing about it too, like bro is randomly chuckling in a class where you’re not even there, just because he remembered something you said

he once tried the move of asking you for help in class. except you rightfully pointed out that he knew much more about the current topic than you did, you had no idea what he expected to learn from you — he then realised the better option is to ask you if he can double check his work or “compare notes”

the first time he caught a mistake/typo in your work, he felt a little bad for pointing it out, but he quickly came to appreciate the clear view of your concentration face when you tried to redo your answer. he'll be constantly flicking his gaze up and back down, trying to keep his eyes on his notebook but ends up tapping his pen against the empty page while he admires the way you furrow your brows while you think

always asks if you’re coming to the school’s soccer game (or football, i guess, i’m australian and we call it soccer) anyway, he spends like five minutes before every game dedicated for scanning the crowd to see if you’re there — if you do ever decide to go, know that your presence is completely unrelated to how he just so happened to score the most goals out of his team . completely

・❥・ 성훈 // sunghoon

stares a lot, but he naturally zones out in class (to the point where teachers ask why he’s staring off into space) so you don’t always question it, except it’s clearly the best excuse he has to keep staring at you

not really outspoken but he definitely would be the type to mutter the most cringe fail jokes to the people around him and takes it as a personal victory every time you scoff out a small chuckle, has a mental list of the kinds of jokes you find funny because man is studying the trends to come up with new material

without realising, he would end up having your schedule memorised, and would totally use that knowledge to his advantage. say your science class is before his — bro is bolting out the door to get to the classroom in time to say a quick “hi” before you leave, he does it so often that you’re convinced he has PE before science, because there’s no other explanation for why every time you see him, this guy is winded like he finished a race (except for the fact that he ran halfway across the school campus for a five second interaction)

would be heavily invested in whatever you take an interest in, he doesn’t even have to understand it, he just wants to know about it because of you. say you’re current interest is modernist literature, he’d snag the perfect opportunity to ask you to explain it to him and let you ramble to your hearts content while he stares at you with the most soft expression, and he isn’t zoning out this time, he’s just pleasantly distracted by the view

・❥・ 선우 // sunoo

would be the type to find the smallest common interest and be convinced that it means your destined to be. like, you could mention something in passing like a show or something, and if he stumbles across it in his recommendations? dude is ecstatic . because what do you mean the universe just happened to show him the exact piece of media you’re obsessed with? (you’re not, it’s literally your most casual interest, but bro is convinced)

he wouldn’t hesitate to compliment you, like he would openly admire your hair if you do something new with it, or if he hears you talk about the new earrings you’re wearing he’d turn around to look at them and give you that nod of approval and say something about how it frames your face nicely, zero shame in what others would think from his forwardness

more subdued when it’s just the two of you, he usually rants about whatever random shenanigans are going on around your school, things that he’s heard or seen, usually retold with editorial humour and a lot of sidebar comments that you wouldn’t be able to help but laugh at, definitely keeps adding to the joke until your sides are hurting from laughing together, he probably has it marked in his calendar on the day he made you laugh so hard your eyes shone with tears a little bit (an achievement in his books)

more subtle when it comes to something as risky as asking you out, he’d try and play it off as simply recommending a certain cafe or a certain movie and if he just so happened to imply that you two should go together, well, that was just out of politeness, of course … unless?

・❥・ 정원 // jungwon

spits out random facts and genuinely believes that they’re the stepping stone to developing a relationship with you (while you sit there confused, because how do the surprise donuts your teacher brought even remotely relate to camels and their ability to drink 200L of water in three minutes??)

i think he would like trying to create a routine with you, something familiar, something that will remind you of him — maybe if you guys sit near each other, he’d always take both your workbooks to the teacher out front for you. or if there’s this special dessert at your cafeteria that he knows you like, he’ll split it with you every time it’s offered. he seems like the type that would find reminders of you in even the smallest of things so he just wishes to create a connection where you’ll feel the same

always sends you the notes when you’re missing from class, his notes aren’t exactly the neatest but they are funny. he adds like little doodles and comments (mostly for himself tbh, he'd add things like “just think of integration as differentiation’s older brother” in the margins of his maths notes or something). honestly, he had considered rewriting them neatly for you, but after you initiated a conversation about the mutilation of a portrait he did of your teacher, well, he figured any chance to talk to you wouldn’t hurt

the kind of guy who will try and send you signals through music and song lyrics, like if you post a certain song on your story, he’d pick the same song but choose a different lyric to play on his story, something more romantically coded. or if you talk about a new artist you’re listening too, he’ll find their most romantic song and say that’s his favourite and asks you listen because he thinks you’ll like it

・❥・ 리키 // ni-ki

very quiet, you’d probably think he was mute if it wasn’t for his low acknowledgment of presence when the teacher takes the attendance. the biggest rush he gets out of his day is when he says a couple words to you in your shared classes. it would always be really quick conversations too, he’d mutter about the teacher being uptight, or complain about the worksheet being printed in black and white instead of in colour, or ask you if you’re cold before getting up to shut the window next to your desks — small, but meaningful

the type to walk up and down the same hallway five times before working up the courage to enter the room you’re in. if you asked him why he did that he’d straight up be like “that wasn’t me. anyway…” adksajd so it’s safe to say he seems a little odd but charming and he’s counting on that charm to help him pull through and land at least a movie date

super competitive in PE class and it’s like a switch will flip and he’s suddenly more suave and confident when he’s in that element so expect a lot of random sidebar conversations while you guys do warm up stretches, he’d totally be the kind of guy to walk past you and drop one of the water bottles near you before walking off to his friends, definitely brushes his hair back like twenty times, gives unsolicited advice on how you can throw better or kick better or whatever it is depending on the sport, you’d be like “[raised eyebrow] i still scored didn’t i?” and he’d backtrack so fast it would be hilarious

has definitely sketched you before, let’s be real. half the time he spends in art class is sketching you in his personal sketchbook — he’d be smart enough to not draw your face (at least in the book he brings to school), it would be something like your side profile but it’s off centre so any other person would think the main focus of his sketch is the window which you sit beside, but to him, the main focus is you. he’d sketch anything he associates with you too, say for example if you mentioned your favourite flower just casually, he’d have a whole page dedicated to various sketches of that flower, no one else would really be able to tell what all his sketches mean, they’re like puzzle pieces that only you’d be able to put together

a.n: this took a while (been so distracted by numerous diff fandoms and a little sad bcs of mama awards but wtv) this is dedicated to my lovely mootie @sheepsgf !! the indescribable beauty that was jungwon’s solo intro in mama will forever live in my head btw, but i figured i’ve done three posts for won already aksjdjs time to do an ot7 one bcs i love them all and they’ve worked so hard !!

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2024 © yourislandgirl

138 notes · View notes

starrrcane · 3 days ago

Text

Club lights

Abby Anderson x reader

warnings: reader has a boyfriend(🤢), and is quite insecure about their self, lesbian sex, a little bit of alcohol(since it’s set in a bar/club). Reader cheats on her bf

summary: modern!AU Abby Anderson helping reader discover a new version of theirself .

notes: this probably has a million typos pls leave me alone😞😞😞this is kinda supposed to be based off of Good Luck Babe by Chappel Roan, idk if it work. If this does well I have three more chapters ready to go😇 happy arcane eve!!!

The club was a cacophony of flashing lights, pounding bass, and laughter that felt like static in your ears. You sat at a corner table with your boyfriend and his friends, nursing a drink that had lost its appeal long ago. His hand rested on your thigh in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but it felt more like a leash.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you muttered, standing abruptly.

He barely glanced up. "Alright," he said, distracted by a game on his phone.

The narrow hallway leading to the restroom was dim, lined with flickering neon signs. You passed a handful of people, but one stood out—a tall, broad-shouldered woman leaning against the bar. Her sharp eyes caught yours, and a flicker of recognition passed through her smirk. She didn’t look away, even as you did.

In the single-stall bathroom, you leaned against the sink and stared at yourself in the mirror.

"You’re beautiful," you murmured to your reflection, adjusting your dress and reapplying your lip gloss. "You don’t need him to tell you that. You don’t need anyone."

The words felt hollow, and your chest ached with the weight of your doubt.

The door creaked open suddenly, and your heart skipped a beat. Whipping around, you saw her—the woman from the hallway. She stepped in without hesitation, closing the door behind her.

"You forgot to lock it," she said with a smirk, crossing her arms.

Your eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

She shrugged, leaning against the wall. "I just wanted to see what a woman like you says to herself in the mirror. Guess I found out."

"Excuse me?"

She took a step forward, her gaze unwavering. "You know your boyfriend only sees you as beautiful when you're spread out for him."

Heat flushed your cheeks, anger and embarrassment mingling. "Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?"

"Just someone who sees what you don’t," she replied, her voice calm and unshaken.

You scoffed and turned back to the mirror, reapplying your lip gloss with unnecessary precision. "I don’t mess around with women."

She let out a low, derisive chuckle. "Those lip glosses only ruin the taste of kisses."

You glared at her through the reflection. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

She stepped closer, her presence filling the small space. Her hands found the edges of the sink on either side of you, caging you in without touching you.

"Do you really think a pretty dress and shiny lips are enough for someone who doesn’t see you?" she asked softly, her voice dipping into something almost tender.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest.

"You looked so bored with him," she continued. "With all of his little friends. I thought maybe my company would suit you better."

Her breath was warm against your ear, and despite yourself, you felt your resolve falter.

"Let me decide who I want to spend time with," you snapped, stepping out of her hold.

She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough."

She turned to leave, but before she could reach the door, you blurted out, "Wait."

She glanced over her shoulder, her smirk returning. "Should I leave?"

You hesitated, biting your lip.

"I don’t want to do anything without your will," she said softly, her tone suddenly serious. "Or is that just what you’re used to with him?"

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you exhaled shakily. "I’ll be fine."

She stepped closer again, slower this time, giving you every chance to back away. When you didn’t, her hands found your lower back, slowly rising her fingers up them giving you a shivering sensation.

"You sure about that?" she murmured, her lips ghosting against your jawline.

You nodded, breathless.

You feel her fingers rise up your back and stop at your shoulder blands and move all of your hair into one side of your neck.

Kissing the bare side, the first press of her lips against your neck sent a shiver down your spine. Her touch was firm but careful, her hands sliding up your sides as she guided you back against ger own body.

The mirror behind you reflected the scene, your flushed cheeks and parted lips as she kissed a path from your collarbone to your ear.

She stops and goes back to your shoulder licking up two your ear. You shudder and giggle “that tickles” you laugh. She smirks at you and tears your underwear off of you like it was nothing too her. You gasp at the sudden breeze you felt down there.

"You’ve been holding back," she whispered, her voice low and teasing. "Let go for once."

Her hands roamed with deliberate slowness, brushing over the curve of your waist, the bare skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You felt yourself melt into her touch, a heat pooling low in your stomach as her lips claimed yours. It was nothing like the impersonal, mechanical kisses you were used to. This was something else—hungry, deliberate, and electric.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breathing uneven. "Tell me to stop, and I will," she said, her hands still cradling your waist.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t."

Her smirk returned as her lips found yours again, her hands lifting you onto the counter, with you leaning on your elbows back looking at her in a haze.

She slowly slides her left hand up your thigh making your legs split making room for her. Then she gets between your legs kissing your chest.

Your dress is barley holding your nipples in. While making eye contact she licks them through the fabric which gets a whining reaction from you.

She proceeds to kiss all over your abdomen. She pauses and pull down your dress from the top- only your boobs getting exposed, grabbing your waist she keeps kissing your chest.

The stops for a moment “take these things off” she says tugging at your heeels” you kick them off. With them landing the floor with a loud clank.

She goes down slowly making contact with your clit, licking a fat stripe from the bottom up, leaving your shivering. She proceeds to continue licking, and you cannot control yourself whatsoever. Your moans are echoing out in the bathroom. Your neck and shoulder start to get stiff from leaning against your elbows on your back, she looks up and sees your dazed look and your lips split apart.

Your close but she stops and says “almost got to carried away with myself.” She flips you over to your stomach still laying on the counter top a much more comfortable position still licking you from the back and she stops and pulls you up, and proceeds to walk backwards untill her back hits the wall behind her.

She has her leg in between your thighs. You practically sitting on her you say “I can barely touch the floor with my legs”, “I’ll hold you up”

She puts her hand between your thighs and start rubbing your clit in a circular motion making your posture hunch against her and whining her name out.

She sticks two fingers in your hole while your legs are still spread apart for her. Your expression is beautiful, the way her name is falling from your mouth like a prayer. The way your eyes can barely be kept open.

She sees your getting close and she stops and pushes you against the wall you looked at her confused on to why she keeps teasing you like this so you say “You started this. Now be good and finish.”

she pushes her legs up in between your again lifting you off the ground and replies “I sure am” she continues with her fingers inside of your thrusting in and out.

You could feel your self about to give out. You hunch yourself over her shoulder and try to make out the words “fuck I-im comi” you can’t. You just keep breathing heavy and arching your back off the wall she had you pressed up against.

Suddenly the rush you felt was indescribable. Your back left the wall and you shuddered with pleasure and pain. You hold onto her shoulders trying to gain back your strength again.

You let go and get off of her. You don’t say anything to her, sort of embarrassed you enjoyed that more than you’d like to admit. You walk over back to the mirror and you start fixing your hair and you ask her

“What about you then?” “Pardon?” She replies “You didn’t come. What’s your pleasure.” You say to her thinking your stating the obvious. Then she replies “to feel your shivering body beneath me is a unique kind of pleasure.”

You roll your eyes and snap back say “pervert” in a joking away, she puts her hands up in the air and shrugs “you liked it. I don’t care about the rest of it” she says with a smirk. You roll your eyes and snap at her to get out and she says “as you please” as a joke she says to you “what you don’t need help dressing?” You roll your eyes and flip her off. She laughs and leaves locking the door for you.

Later, as you returned to the table, your boyfriend looked up briefly.

"That took a while," he remarked, his tone indifferent.

You shrugged, sitting down as his hand found your thigh. The contact made your skin crawl, and you shoved his hand away.

"What’s your problem?" he asked, annoyed.

You stood abruptly. "I’m leaving."

"At least take money for a cab," he said, tossing a few bills on the table.

Outside, the cold air stung your cheeks as you flagged down a cab. The door opened before you could reach for it, and there she was, leaning back in the seat with that familiar smirk.

"You ruined my night," you said, though there was no real venom in your voice.

She raised an eyebrow. "Come back to my place. Let me fix it."

You hesitated only for a moment before climbing in, the door shutting with a satisfying click.

#abby x reader #abby anderson smut #abby the last of us #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou #tlou hbo #abby anderson #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #lesbian #lesbian smut

100 notes · View notes

darlingdaisyfarm · 3 days ago

Text

im so sorry, i don’t even know how to explain myself at this point, consider this my apology for all the filthy nonsense i post here

so, this is a lil bonus to this post

nsfw (not really, but mentions of sex)

Ford is dead. Not literally (you check his pulse just to be sure), but emotionally and physically, this man has perished. Such a beautiful ruined mess underneath you, he’s sprawled out like a crime scene chalk outline, drenched in sweat, staring blankly at the ceiling as if questioning all his life choices.

But you’re not doing much better. Your legs shaking so much you can barely sit up, whole body feels like jelly and your brain isn’t working either. Somehow, you manage to flop next to Ford, throwing a limp arm over his scarred chest.

“Bravo, folks!” Bill exclaims. “what a show! Truly the pinnacle of human endurance and stamina! Sixer, gotta say, i missed seeing you like this, ah, the good old days!”

Ford groans faintly. “I hate you. . .”

“You’re so mean,” you mutter at Bill, glaring up at him with half-lidded eyes. “why’d you even join in? That’s not what we agreed on.”

The moment these words leave your mouth, you know you’ve fucked up. Ford’s body stiffens under your arm as his exhausted brain cells rapidly recalculating everything.

“What— what did you just say?” although his voice is hoarse from all sounds he made earlier, you still catch a note of seriousness in it. His head turns toward you in slow motion, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What do you mean. . . agreed on?”

You panic. “Wait, I mean, uh—”

“Oh, let me tell him!” Bill interrupts. “she’s talking about the little deal we made! you know, where I said, ‘hey, doll, wanna fuck your dusty old man to death?’ and she said, ‘of course, Bill, but no creepy tendrils, okay?’”

Ford looks like he’s been hit by a bus. “WHAT?”

You swear you feel yourself sweat from panic and embarrassment as you look at Bill in pure fear. “I thought you’d just watch! Not—”

Demon cuts you off with a laugh. “Oh, sure, you thought! And by the way, Sixer? these pathetic, desperate little whimpers, ugh, they’ll echo in my mind for eternity! I’ve waited so long to see you like that. A helpless, sloppy mess, both of you, my little huma—”

Ford's face flushes with either shame or anger, and you think he’s going to explode. But no. He pushes himself up, pushes himself up, the madman, and throws the sheet off in anger.

But Bill keeps. “I mean, you came so hard I’m surprised you didn’t pass out after the first round, old ma—”

Ford looks at that demonic creature. “That’s it. That’s it, Cipher, you’ve gone too far this time.”

You barely manage a “Ford, wait—” as he pulls on his boxers with surprising speed for a man who five seconds ago looked like he was on the brink of death.

“I’ll make you pay for this,” Ford declares dramatically. “Mark my words, Cipher, I’ll find a way to make you regret ever stepping into my house again.”

Both you and Bill fall silent, watching Ford’s boxers riding low on his hips as he marches out of the bedroom.

You watch your Ford walk away, eyes wide with panic, realising what just happened, but then your gaze goes lower. At that tattoo.

Flirty Gal.

Bill floats beside you, narrowing his single eye slyly. “I know what you’re looking at, doll.”

You glare at him, exhausted and annoyed. “I hate you.”

Cipher’s gaze flicks to the doorway Ford just walked through. “hate me all you want, but you've got good taste. Sixer's got a hell of an ass for an old man.”

“STOP TALKING.”

#ford deserves peace #bill deserves a leash #reader deserves therapy #but instead yall get this #im so sorry #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls x you #ford pines x reader #ford pines smut #stanford pines #billford #bill x reader #bill cipher x you #bill cipher x ford

79 notes · View notes

darkmatilda · 24 hours ago

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰��𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close.

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on.

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle.

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged? Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it.

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight.

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message.

She had woken up.

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety.

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

"How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

"Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

"They... they even know I exist?"

"Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

"Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time.

"It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

"Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

"You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

“Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

“What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

“I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

“Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

“Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

“I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

“It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

“No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

“I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain.

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness.

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #criminal mind #derek morgan #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr reid

77 notes · View notes

littleslaywrites · 1 day ago

Text

pas de deux | spencer reid x bau!reader

summary: you’re a ballet dancer in your spare time. when you get injured, spencer is there to help you recover.

based on ask: “can i request a spencer reid x reader where our reader (who does something like figure skating, gymnastics, cheer, ballet, etc, in her spare time) gets injured on the job and realizes that also affects her hobby? and spencer helps her find a new hobby while she's in recovery and it's just super fluffy and cute”

word count: 1.8k

cw: f!reader, basically just fluff, slight angst kinda, description of injury (knee hyperextension), boyfriend!spencer, reader is an intern at the bau and becomes a member of the team

Ballet has always been there for you, even when nobody else was. You had been dancing your whole life, from age three all the way until now, spending your time after work in the studio. Although you chose not to major in dance in college, it was your solace, always waiting after a long day.

Spencer was the first person you had met that made you feel like ballet did. When you started your internship over the summer at the BAU, he was there for you without being patronizing. He understood you like nobody else had. You felt free around him, always excited to see him when you got home. Best of all, he was perfectly fine sharing your attention with ballet. When you had your first performance after meeting him, before he even asked you on your first date, he was waiting in the front row with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen. From that night on, he was at every opening and closing night you had.

After graduating, you were promoted from intern to an official member of the team, and Spencer promoted you from crush to girlfriend. That winter, you were doing a production of The Nutcracker in D.C. at the Washington Ballet. Every night after work, you’d make the drive to rehearsal. It was a tight schedule, but the love you had for it ensured it was never a burden.

It was a routine case, local, so you didn’t even have to fly out. Garcia had traced the unsub’s location, sending the team to a house in some unsuspecting suburb.

The SUV pulled into the driveway, you sitting in the passenger seat while Morgan drove. Rossi and JJ were right behind you, so you didn’t hesitate to go inside the house. As Morgan kicked down the door, you saw the unsub make a run for it. You followed, but in your hurry, you didn’t realize there was a step up into the room you were rushing into.

You realized you were tripping as it happened, swearing internally at your mindlessness. You felt your ankle twist, and you tried to save the fall by putting your knee down. You felt it hit the ground, buckling and bending back, pain shooting through the back of your leg. Morgan was ahead of you, already taking down the unsub, so your fall went unnoticed until JJ came through the door.

As JJ came to your side, your first thought wasn’t the injury, but the embarrassment you felt. Within your first three months as an official member of the BAU, you managed to injure yourself because you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

Laying flat on your stomach, you heard JJ ask if you were okay. You murmured something, trying to push yourself up to your feet. You’d had little injuries in ballet, so you surely could handle whatever you just did. But as you tried to stand, the throbbing pain in your knee made itself known. You bit your tongue to stifle yourself from crying out in pain.

Your attempt to stand failing, you rolled over to your back and sat up, looking at the damage. You cringed away as you looked at your knee, bent in the opposite direction as it should be. Biting your lip, you carefully straightened your leg back out to its regular position, sighing as the pain set it. JJ called out for a medic, and you braced yourself for the consequences of your mistake.

Spencer is trailing behind the first two cars, arriving as the unsub is being led to the police car that was waiting outside. When he hears JJ call out for the medic over the radio, he immediately panics, mind going to the worst case scenario about you. As he climbs out of the passenger seat, he sees you hobbling into the back of an ambulance, arm around JJ’s shoulder. He jogs over to you, trying to see around the EMT who’s working on your knee.

“What happened, y/n?” he asks, trying not to sound too concerned but failing.

“It seems like she hyperextended her knee,” the medic replies for you. “She should try to stay off of it for a month. I’m getting her a brace now.”

You’re looking down at your hands, not wanting to face the concerned look in Spencer’s eyes. Of course, you’re grateful someone cares about you in the way he does, but it makes you embarrassed to know you caused the concern.

“I have a ballet performance in two months–” you begin, before the medic cuts you off.

“Absolutely not,” the medic says. “You’ll be on crutches for half that time, and you shouldn’t put any excess pressure on it for at least 12 weeks.”

This news shatters your heart. You know the medic’s careless attitude can’t be attributed to cruelty, he’s probably busy and wanting to get onto the next job, but his words still make your eyes water. Knowing the rest of the team is already moved onto wrapping up the case, you let a silent tear fall, still refusing to look away from your lap.

When the medic leaves to fill out some form, Spencer moves in close to you, lifting your chin to make eye contact with you. The look in his eyes is full of concern and understanding, only causing more tears to come.

“Hey,” he pulls you into a hug. “I know,” he comforts as you cry.

You’re sure your face is burning from embarrassment, both from being injured and now crying in the middle of a crime scene. You bury your face in his neck so nobody else can see you.

He knows what losing ballet means to you, especially losing your role in the show. He doesn’t have to tell you that he understands, the way he holds you says it clearly.

“You know, just before you started your internship, I got shot in the leg and was on crutches. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts.

“Spencer, that wasn’t your fault,” you sigh out, “I tripped and fell. That’s all on me.”

He looks at you, knowing nothing he says can change your mind. “At least you won’t have to get on the plane for a while.”

“What if I like being on the plane?” you ask back.

“You don’t,” he answers, a smirk on the sides of his lips as he tries not to smile at your commitment to being miserable.

You see him trying not to smile, and a laugh breaks up your crying. Spencer brushes away a tear that rolled down your face, joining in your giggles.

“My stubborn girl,” he says lovingly, leaning down to kiss you.

The EMT clears his throat, and you take that as your signal to head back to the station.

Resting at home wasn’t easy for you. Despite your protests, Spencer got Hotch to give you two weeks off. You felt useless sitting around your shared apartment, not even able to clean with your reliance on the crutches.

Even worse was when you had to call the company to tell them you wouldn’t be able to perform. You knew your understudy would do well, but giving up the role was heartbreaking nonetheless.

Spencer knew how devastated you were losing your passion, your escape from reality. His solution is to scour his bookshelves for whatever he thought you might like. You didn’t mind reading, but you’d lost your enthusiasm for it in college when you were swamped by textbooks and research papers. Spencer made it his mission to overcome that, knowing there had to be something you’d love.

The night before your first day alone on leave, you were laying in bed. Spencer had taken longer than usual to join you. Unable to go through the effort to get out of bed, you call out “Whatcha doing out there, Spencer?”

“You’ll see,” he replies. His secrecy makes you smile. You can tell he’s in this study from where his voice came from. Your curiosity is piqued, but you don’t want to spoil whatever surprise he has in store, so you just lay back down. Eventually, he joins you in bed, snuggling as close as he can while still being careful of your knee. The comfort of his arms pulls you into sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s fully dressed, laying out clothes for you on the dresser. He helps you get dressed, even though it’s completely unnecessary. You’re not as injured as he acts like you are, which frustrates you, even though it comes from a place of love. Still, you're grateful he helps you get ready before he makes his way to the door to leave for the workday.

“You’d think I was as breakable as an egg from the way you act,” you say, crutching over to the door as he picks up his bag.

“I don’t know, y/n, you fell pretty easily,” he teases, soft brown eyes meeting yours to show that he means nothing, simply poking fun at you. You wish you could reach out and run your hands through his hair, but you’re held back by your crutches. Spencer’s probably grateful for that part of your injury, since he isn’t fixing his hair every few hours because you couldn’t resist playing with it.

Rolling your eyes at his quips, he leans down to kiss you. “I’ll miss you, Humpty Dumpty,” he says playfully. You scoff, faking insult, as he walks away and opens the door. “And, by the way,” he stops himself, “I left a surprise on the coffee table to you.” He closes the door, and you remember him in the study last night.

When you go to sit on the couch, you see a stack of books with a note on the top. Setting the crutches lazily on the floor, you pick up the note, reading:

I looked through my books and found a few I thought you might enjoy. Hopefully, they can take you to another world while you’re stuck on the couch. Love you, Spencer.

P.S. Ice packs are in the freezer.

You smile at his words reaching for the stack. Each book has a note placed inside on why you might like them. Anna Karenina because he remembered (of course he did) when you told him you performed in the ballet adaptation in high school. The Grapes of Wrath to remind you of your home state, California. Misery since you loved horror movies as much as he did, so he thought you might like a horror book. Animal Farm if you wanted something shorter but thought-provoking. Jurassic Park because, as he wrote, “everyone loves dinosaurs”.

You smiled at the gesture, picturing him going through all of his books and choosing the ones he thought would help you forget about what your injury took away. Even with him at work, you felt his love in the stack of books, the notes he left, the coffee he left you on the table. He was your partner in crime, trusting him in the pas de deux of life.

You leaned back on the couch, picking up the first book from the stack, already anticipating discussing your readings with Spencer when he got back from work.

author's note: I absolutely LOVED writing this one. By the end it was totally self indulgent becuase I was having too much fun. It may or may not be totally based on myself. Since it’s nutcracker season I made that the show y/n was performing in. Also the books mentioned are all some of my favs. I pictured season 6/7 Spencer while writing but that has pretty much no impact on the story lol. @kakamixoxo I love you for this request and I literally had so much fun writing it!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid comfort #criminal minds x reader

70 notes · View notes

lucedilunax · 3 hours ago

Text

Bed chem - Q. Hughes

Songs masterlist

song: Bed chem - Quinn Hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Three stages in Quinn and his girlfriend relationship: how they met, how they had crush on themselves and how they sex life looks like

warning: mentions of sex (nothing graphic), swear words

words: 1.0k

note: ahh this week songs masterlist will be done, i'm gonna miss it but exciting things are coming in december!

masterlist

---

Your friend hit me up so we could connect

Brock’s girlfriend, Bella, and she were friends since they were kids but now, she finally moved to Vancouver. When Bella met Quinn, she knew that she had to set up her friend with him. She believed that they had the identical personality. The same lame jokes, the same awkward laugh and the same commitment to their jobs.

Bella told Brock about this idea and he immediately agreed. He knew her friend and totally saw her and Quinn as a couple. Both of them set them up on a blind date. She and Quinn were skeptical about this. They haven’t been looking for a partner, at least not at this moment and to be honest, they didn’t trust their friends in this field. Eventually, they agreed and went on a date.

I digress, got me scrollin’ like

Out of breath, got me goin’ like

She adored Quinn. One date and she was all over heels for him. At first, he was giving her weird vibes but when he opened up to her, it turned out that he’s talkative and funny. She couldn't remember the last time a guy made her laugh this hard like he did this one night. When she got back home, she went on instagram and followed him. She started looking at his profile and looking at every single photo. She enjoyed what she was seeing. In her opinion, he was super handsome.

Quinn, who wasn’t sure about this date, was thankful that he agreed to go. She was different from other women who tried so hard for him because he was an athlete. She didn’t care, he was certain that she didn't even watch hockey because she was asking him the most basic questions when he mentioned this sport. He came back home and saw that she followed him on instagram. He did the same and started looking at her pictures. He couldn’t believe how pretty she is.

Are you free next week?

The next day, Quinn wrote to her asking if she had time next week. Now, he was leaving but he wanted to invite her to his match. Maybe even go on another date if he gets lucky. Impatient, he was waiting for her response the whole day. He was checking his phone every five minutes to see if she wrote him back. Thankfully, she did. She said that she’s free and it would be a pleasure to go to his game. Quinn was relieved.

For a moment, Quinn thought that she might not be into him but this message changed it. He said that he’ll give her all the information when he gets back home. She thanked him and in that moment, she asked him about his day. They started writing every day about everything and nothing. His teammates caught him smiling on his phone when he got a message from her.

Who’s the cute guy with wide blue eyes and the big bad mm?

Quinn wasn’t a big fan of taking photos of himself, but he loved doing this for her. He tried to keep her updated while being away as much as he could. She was sending him pictures of what she’s doing, which was watching tv shows, cooking and working. On the other hand, he always took pictures of himself in a suit and sent them to her. When he was coming back to Vancouver, he took a selfie on the plane and sent her a message coming home, can’t wait to see you soon.

She received the photo when she was out on lunch with her coworkers. She right away opened the message and saw him looking good as always. She stared at her phone too long and one of the girls noticed this. She looked on and saw Quinn’s face. The questions started floating around about her mysterious boyfriend. She felt embarrassed at first but talked about him with love in her voice.

How you pick me up, pull’ em down, turn me ‘round

She and Quinn haven’t wanted to label themselves. They just went with the flow and if they are made for each other, they’ll end up together. Although, this hasn't stopped them from having sex with each other. Both of them loved this kind of deal. The sex was always incredible, especially when he was coming back pissed.

Quinn was manhandling her like a personal sex toy. She was more than willing to agreed on everything he was giving her. He was throwing her around the bed in every position that he wanted her in. Often, he would bent her over the couch or kitchen island and fuck her roughly.

How you talk so sweet when you’re doin’ bad things

She adored Quinn. He was always a well spoken guy who couldn’t miss a day without giving her a compliment. Always showing up with flowers and gifts from his trips. He knew how to make her feel better after a bad day. His words were always on point and she felt loved and adored. He treated her like a princess knowing that she has a low self confidence. He was her hype man.

Quinn was changing completely when it came to a sex. He was dominating her, doing whatever he wants and likes. In his movements, he remembered about her boundaries but this hadn’t stopped him from treating her like a whore. As much as she loved his quiet and calm side, there was something so tempting and hot in his bedroom side. He enjoyed that she was there for his every beck and call.

And I bet we’d both arrive at the same time

Despite the fact that Quinn was setting the pace and treated her like he wanted, he always made sure that she cum. He didn’t want her to feel like she’s just for his pleasure. He never denied her orgasm, sometimes controlled it but most of the time, he was overstimulating her. He was giving her at least two climax every time they had sex. His favorite part was when both could cum at the same time.

When it happened for the first time, it was a mind blowing orgasm for Quinn. He couldn’t keep his mind straight the minute he felt his release and her tightening muscles around him. Since that, he made this his own mission to end their sex with them cum in the same moment. She loved when this was happening, when their moans filled the bedroom after reaching a climax.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes oneshot #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks #v' work

58 notes · View notes

wisecura · 14 hours ago

Text

Next.

Wc: 6k

p.2 to this p.1

AN: thank you again for reading—proofread warning.

Warning: dub-con, jealousy, manipulative behavior, controlling behavior, smut (MINORS DNI), degradation, demeaning, rude gojo-like bad boy, bad, just not healthy my dude. Read with caution

Again.

Satoru, of course, had heard everything. The menace he was—he’d wound you up hoping to draw a confession from you. But like always he managed to get carried away. He couldn’t say he was upset with the outcome. He’d been able to see you so deliciously vulnerable right before his eyes. The way you squirmed beneath him, your beautiful doe eyes practically begging him to fuck you. And the second he’d heard your footsteps prattle away, a moan coming from your room, he knew it was all worth it.

His feet carried him straight to your door, long forgetting the food. He quietly approached, leaning in closely to listen. Your moans mixed with the wet squelches made him stutter out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His dick painfully hard in the confines of his pants. The image of you shuddering beneath him still burned into his mind. He’d pushed you, yes. But it was worth it to see the jealous look smearing your pretty features.

And now, his prize and punishment. Just out of reach. The sound of your vibrator, your whimpers and moans, and finally the sound of your climax. You filled the entire apartment with your sinful sounds.

His head rests against the door, his palms flexing. He put himself in this position, yet he wasn’t mad about it. His ear tinted red as he tried to imagine what your face looked like when you came. He’d thought long and hard, leaning against your door like that.

Satoru left the house soon after that. And when he’d arrived home, the lights were out in the apartment. He saw you had eaten the curry he left out for you, as he listened in for any sign of life. You were likely asleep. He brought the bag back to his room, locking the door before digging in. He’d bought several things that night, and was itching to put them to good use. Ordered some more to come in the next day.

You on the other hand were suffering from post nut clarity. What had you done? What had he done?

Would he pretend this never happened? He left the house before you could work up the courage to go talk to him about it. He’d been the one to push you, though. Would you even be able to face him. Explain to him the actions of your stupid horny brain. You had wondered if he really hadn’t heard you. Would you just be embarrassing yourself by bringing it up? And what about your conversation at the island table?

When you left for work the next day, you hadn’t seen him at all. Usually he’d be in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of you. You’d typically eat together, laugh about the movie you’d watched the night before, then say your goodbyes for the day.

But his bedroom door was shut. So you left. The change in routine was more noticeable than you thought. You didn’t realize how accustomed you were to having Satoru’s presence around you, that it just threw your whole day off.

When you got home that evening you immediately noticed something was off. You spotted more artwork on the walls. More furniture in the previously bare environment. It felt warmer than before, as you placed your bag by the door. More like home.

You heard rustling in the kitchen, making your way to the source of both the noise and the delicious smell. And there he was. In all his handsome glory. Who made him that attractive? You think spitefully.

“Oh! You’re home?” The word home hung a little more heavier than it did before. “Yeah, I just got back.”

He nods, as you take your seat in the island chair. Your mind flashes back to your position there yesterday night before he speaks up.

“How was your day?” The conversation remained light. You talked about each of your days, excluding the awkwardness of the morning.

“What’s with all the new decor? It’s nice don’t get me wrong, but…”

“Ah I wanted to liven the place up a bit…you can add whatever you want. It’s your place too, y’know?”

The words hang there. Should you address it? How would that conversation even go?

“Should we…should we talk about yesterday?” He remained playful and easygoing, “what’s there to talk about?” Was he being serious? He was just going to ignore it? Your confusion must’ve shown on your face—

“I think I was pretty upfront. You aren’t leaving. This is your home as much as mine.” That was only the tip of the iceberg, and you didn’t know how to approach the topic that would change the entire basis of your relationship.

“What are you expecting from me? Some kind of friends with benefits?” Your voice attempting nonchalance yet failing to hid the bitterness. He just didn’t seem the type for relationships. But a situationship did seem right up his alley. His smile tightened as he addressed you coldly, head tilting.

“I don’t care what label you put on it. Long as you aren’t seeing other people. Long as you stay here.” You decide to drop it there, not liking how cold his eyes had gotten. Eating in strained peace.

You shower off before heading to bed, but not before running into him in the hallway. His eyes shamelessly skimmed your body, which thankfully was still wrapped in a towel. You nodded at him before scurrying to your room and closing the door quickly. His gaze still made you so flustered.

You moved to grab your clothes before noting the framed landscape painting on the wall in front of your bed. It was somewhat awkward knowing that he’d been in your room while you were away, but it is his apartment, right?

You dress in your pajamas before tucking yourself in bed. The room was dark as you snuggled in the overly soft comforter.

That was before you heard him.

A low groan, followed by another. You sat bolt upright in bed. His room was on the other side of the wall, so you didn’t need to strain much to hear it. Continuous strings of moans, groans, and pants. You weren’t sure you were hearing right. You wait a few moments, unbelieving. Was he really doing this? Your face flushed red as you lay back in bed. You reach down between your legs feeling the dampness over your clean panties. Damn.

All it took was his voice. You touch your clothed pussy, feeling the damp spot grow. His groans and panting heavier as he begins moaning out your name.

You to freeze up, heart hammering. He was playing so dirty.

Too warm. You pulled the covers back, pulling down your shorts and underwear. The cold air hits your slick pussy and you rub meticulously. Your other hand stifles your moans before they can come out.

Satoru was playing dirty and he knew it. The second he was in bed, his mind never left how you looked walking around in that small towel. The water droplets clinging to your hair, and the smooth expanse of your creamy skin on display.

You were a fucking minx walking around like that. Pulling that stunt yesterday. All he had to do was imagine you, and the rest was history.

He was sure his moaning carried through the walls. He wanted to give you a little something for the day before. A few minutes go by before he pulls out his phone, clicking his new home security app. He’d placed cameras around the house. Expensive ones. Ones you wouldn’t see, hiding behind the decorative paintings he’d placed everywhere. Including your room.

You were lying there on your bed, your finger on that perfect gushing pussy. The camera quality, crystal clear. He couldn’t stop the groan from his mouth, calling out your name softly again. The satisfaction rolled in waves at the movement of your hips, no doubt in response to his voice.

This had been the best investment he’d ever made.

Tensions had been high around the apartment. Much to your displeasure. Satoru was still very friendly with you, spending much of his free time around you. Still very touchy, yet never crossing that line of too much.

He still never addressed your silent war of loudly masturbating in your rooms— a war which you both seemed to continue after that first day. And it was not something you were going to comment on first, especially if he was being stubborn. You’d spent more time out of the house, feeling that tension stifle you. But you’d wanted more from it. Wanted more from your relationship and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.

He would complain when you stayed out for long periods of time, but it was better than addressing the shift in your dynamic. And you could only stand to see his face so often when you frequently heard him climaxing in the next room over. Your name a constant on his tongue.

You��d met up with your childhood friend from home. You’d known him for years, having grown up together.

Satoru had met him too—funnily enough. He’d been the catalyst for Satoru’s possessive best friend hugging era. That friend.

He’d came into town, and messaged about a meet up. He’d only be there for a day or two. On the way out of the apartment that morning, you let Satoru know you wouldn’t be back for dinner, not wanting him to set the plate. He looked bored when he’d ask where you were going. Even when you told him who you were meeting up with. And he said nothing when you left the house to go to dinner that day.

All of this to say, you now found yourself very shocked. That conversation had only been a few hours ago, though it felt longer. Here you were sat across from your childhood friend.

And to your right was Satoru Gojo.

In the flesh. The look on your friend’s face was nothing short of awkward. He hadn’t expected you to be bringing a plus one. And judging by the look on your face, you hadn’t expected Satoru there either.

Maybe this would’ve been more comfortable had it not been for how Satoru was acting.

Satoru sat back in his chair, legs sprawled out beneath him, and was possibly the only comfortable looking person at the table. His smile broad, eyes easy going. The only tell for his own irritation was the tension in his shoulders.

“Sooo, who’re you again?” His underlying tone, condescending, boarding on mean, but still managed to keep his playful persona.

“Satoru—“ “Ah my name’s—“ You shoot your friend a look for him to shut up, giving him a light kick under the table. “Satoru, you know his name. Stop teasing.”

You give him a pointed look, still unsure why he was even there in the first place. With the way he was acting you had no doubt he’d wanted to make it awkward. You’d found out he was just quirky that way.

“Why’re you even here? This wasn’t supposed to be a group thing-“ He hummed out your name in a singsong voice, his arm swiftly clapping around on your friend’s shoulder, yanking him closer. “He doesn’t seem to mind, mm? What’s your problem with it?”

He pouted out his lips, feigning innocence. His tone doing nothing but stoking the small flame of annoyance in your chest. His puppy eyes were on display, seeming to plead his case with you, but you wouldn’t give in this time. You wouldn’t have minded him joining in, but it was the fact that he just showed up with no word. It was painfully rude. Especially when he seemed less than interested that morning. Your eyes flit to your friends, pitying his position, “Sorry for him-“

“Sorry for what!” Satoru’s loud voice rang out, “I’m a delight!” His voice indignant. You huff out, before hearing the waiter approach the table. She eyed your situation, before flushing at Gojo. Ugh.

“What can I get started for you~?” Her pitch was a bit grating to your ears. Maybe you were being too critical? But the way she eyed up Satoru solidified your critique. Absolutely grating.

Satoru smiled at the soured look painted across your face. It only got worse when the waitress came over, practically tripping over him. It did nothing to help his ego, and he pat your friend on the back, a little more forcefully than he intended before letting go. He was irritated that you were here. That you’d chosen a little date with this waste of space sitting next to him.

His grin was wide, as he made sure to eye you down—gauging your every reaction. But your eyes were on the waitress. Not him. And that annoyed him even more than he cared to admit.

“Mmm” he hummed out, turning his charm up. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so…He leaned over the table, resting his head on one hand, making eye contact with the waitress,

“What’s your sweetest dish?” The question was innocent enough. His tone light—somewhat suggestive, he knew you wouldn’t like it. The waitress flushed, and she looked away, giggling. The sound was a bit annoying, he’d admit.

He didn’t like playing this game, but he couldn’t control his actions when it came to you. His eyes flit back to you-just marginally, hoping he’d find you looking over at him. But you wouldn’t turn your fuckin’ head.

He reminded himself that it was fine. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to remind you who really mattered here.

His competition was sat to his right, his grin uneasy and uncomfortable. Satoru could tell he was a fish out of water, and it satisfied him to no end knowing that he knew. He knew he could never size up to the Satoru Gojo.

If you didn’t see it, he’d just have to show you. Show you that he was the more desirable option. The better pick.

If others showed some interest in him then maybe you’d see it? He contemplated flirting some more, giving you a taste of your own medicine. He eyed the waitress shamelessly, hoping you saw him. Only for a moment.

But his thoughts were racing, and he felt somewhat desperate and out of control. You still refused to look at him, and it really was starting to drive him crazy. If only you hadn’t come out to see this fuckin shrimp.

He wouldn’t wait around for you. He didn’t need you.

But that was a lie. And he knew it. He was just jealous. And he didn’t know how to convey it.

But he knew how to get your attention.

Instigating obvious sexual tension for weeks. Act nonchalant when you spoke about your childhood friend—randomly, your supposed dinner plans with him. Pretend to ignore you as you left the house dressed up that sleek form fitting black dress.

✨Show up when you least expected it.✨ Make your friend uncomfortable, putting you in an awkward position. Flirt with the waitress right in front of you when he felt like you hated him. When he felt like you preferred someone else’s company. And now?

What else could he do to garner your attention? He could make good on his comment from before, bringing her home and fucking her right next to your bedroom door.

But the thought disgusted him. He couldn’t even picture it. And when it reached his mind, he pulled back from the flirting immediately. You glared at him now, your arms crossing over yourself in a self soothing gesture. He couldn't understand how you were able to come out like this. Not when he revolted at the idea of even touching another woman. How could you so casually sit across from another man and eat dinner like it was nothing?

And like always, Satoru took it too far. But damn if it didn’t get him results.

Your eyes were back on him.

“Right, I think I’ll be leaving now—“ you stood up, not even having placed your order. The waitress caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Before you could finish raising from the chair, Satoru followed suit. Standing up frighteningly fast, causing you to stumble back. His quick reflexes caught you on instinct, straightening you back upright. You shrugged him off, not feeling too fond of the white haired sorcerer at the moment.

You looked over at your friend, “I’m so sorry, we’ll just meet up next time, okay?”

Your voice so sincere it made Satoru’s chest hurt. His cursed energy licking up his insides. He could barely reign in the emotions he felt kicking back up. He watched the exchange with growing annoyance, as your friend slowly stood up, agreeing. He hugged you before parting ways, and before Satoru could utter a word, you were flying past him, the opposite way.

“Hey, wait!” His long legs catching up with you quickly. You ignore him, opting to pretend he didn’t exist in that moment.

You were still fucking hungry. And now you were cold, the nighttime air biting at your exposed legs. You walked for a few blocks, as Satoru silently tailed behind you. He hadn’t said a word, and you hadn’t bothered looking back to check if he was still following. You’d been looking for a decent food stall you could buy some noodles at.

Sure, Satoru hasn’t specifically come out and said he’d refrain from talking to other girls. But you didn’t think he’d be so blatant with his flirting. And right in front of you. Right in front of your friend? How embarrassing.

Your conversation flitted back into your mind, remembering the possessive tinge to his words. As long as you stayed with him. And as long as you didn’t see anyone else. No labels needed.

You so badly wished he’d been more forward with his intentions. It almost felt like he was stringing you along. Did he even care about you the way you cared for him? You hadn’t even kissed him yet. But you’d heard the way he’s climaxed. Those two didn’t fit together, you thought.

But you weren’t sure you wanted to kiss him with the little tantrum he’d thrown earlier. And his blatant disregard for your feelings. Did all of that not apply to him? None of it made sense.

And now he was invading your other friendships, putting you in shitty positions by making you look bad. All you wanted was a chill night out. Catching up with a long time friend. Hearing about the new gossip around your hometown. It’d be ages since you’d gone out.

“You ready to talk?” His voice irritated you to no end, your head snapping back to look at him. Only to find yourself looking up. When had he gotten so close? You’d been so surprised you stumbled. “Wha—“

His cocked head back, looking down at you with icy eyes, stopping you in your tracks. Was that malice?—He pulled you off the side of the road, tugging you by your arm into a dim alleyway. You stumbled over your heels before you felt your back hit the freezing wall. He had you caged again, his hands on either side of your head.

“Let’s talk.” He’d decided for you. Voice dipping low, you felt a shudder run up your back. From the cold? or him? you aren’t sure. “Satoru-“ “Are you doing this on purpose.” His voice heavy, still maintaining a teasing lilt to his voice. Always teasing.

“Doing what?”

“Playing these little mind games.” He seemed to seethe, now, “Mind games?” You parrot, dumbfounded at his accusation. What the hell was he on about?

“Yes” he hissed out, laughing, “your little games.” His tone boarded on hysterical now, blindsiding you in seconds. The whiplash inevitable. He seemed to break at your lack of adequate response. Where was this coming from?

He leaned in closer, breath tickling your ear, “I can put up with the moaning and the whimpering coming from your room. The slutty clothes you wear around the house. The sly little looks you give me. The way you call my name in your sleep.” His voice teetering on the edge. “But I won’t have you running around in that skimpy outfit, meeting up with other men for dinner.” words harsh, and blunt.

Was that really how he saw you? Some needy whore he put up with? The thought made you cringe. Why’s he being so mean?

“If you didn’t want me there then you should have said something, Satoru.” You spat his name out like it was a rotten bite of food. Ignoring the fact that he’d finally addressed what you’d been skirting around these past few weeks.

But you’re too moody to deal with his bullshit right now. You go to move, wanting to just go home, “its none of your business what I wear, and who I go out with—“ He uses his body weight to his advantage pressing you back against the wall, his leg slitting between yours, easily riding up your dress. This position feeling uncannily familiar. His hand finds purchase in your hair, yanking your head back to look up at him, holding you in place.

“None of my business? No, Sugar. I’d definitely have to disagree.” His voice cold, any trace of teasing long gone. You struggled a little now, not knowing where he was going with this. But his eyes seemed to be swirling. He had to be going crazy. You refused to respond to this. He wasn’t acting like himself— “Should I just lock you up? Chain you to my bed?” You choke on your own spit. Maybe it’s just a bad joke? But that tone. And his eyes—“Y’know I could, right?” But he isn’t joking. This feeling—his cursed energy licking up your sides, pooling off of him. He wasn’t reining it in. This wasn’t your best friend— “wouldn’t even need your permission. Got a whole place where noooo one else would hear you.” He’s talking to himself—at you. You couldn’t find the words to respond. “You’re lucky I’m so nice.”

You’re shaking now, feeling his cursed energy press into you from every angle. He was suffocating, and for the first time you felt really felt scared of him. That strength always there but he’d never pointed it at you. This felt like a bad dream, your stomach twisting in knots. You just wanted him to stop.

“No other man would let his woman leave the house like that. Dolling herself up to meet some other guy. Whoring herself out-“ “Satoru…please.” His eyes seemed to finally refocus on you.

Your trembling form, the tears pooling in your eyes. From any other man’s perspective, it’d be the right thing to pull back, and let you breathe. If he were any other man, he might’ve given in and given you that comfort you so desperately craved right then and there.

And if it had been any other situation he would have.

He stood between your legs, your tight black dress bunched up high on your thighs. You were straining for some stability. He could feel your heat through your panties, and it made him feel that much more feral. Tears pooled around your eyes in the most provocative way, your lips twisted up like you were ready to cry. The image of you had been burned into his mind. He remembered how pretty you looked when you cried.

Your form trembling beneath him, gave him back all the control he’d lost when he was back at that table. You couldn’t have had any other ideas, coming out tonight looking like that. And to think if he hadn’t shown up, you’d still be sitting there across from another man. Having to watch you doll yourself up for anyone but him.

He hadn’t thought long about it before. What he’d actually do if you decided to try and find another partner. He was always so sure you’d be there for him. By his side. He’d always been the best. The strongest. Who wouldn’t want Satoru Gojo as a partner? He’d been waiting for you. Waiting for you to make a move, for you to come to terms with your feelings and give him more to work with. Flirting, in the only way he knew how. And he thought it’d been going pretty well. Considering how you responded to all of his advances.

But now. Now he couldn’t stand it. The concept of you leaving the house. The concept of you going on dates. The days leading up to tonight, you’d been going out more. Something he couldn’t stand. You’d gone too far this time. Satoru had already come to terms with all of his feelings. It was about time you did too. But he didn’t intend to play nice after what you’d done.

“What’s wrong?” He feigned a comforting tone. You began sniffling, trying to keep it together. “You gonna fuckin’ cry? After stringing me along like that?”

Looking up at him with those eyes. It made him fuckin insane. Your voice was shaky, “I didn’t—“ “I know you’re not gonna say you didn’t try and play me. You wouldn’t be that stupid to think this whole mess was a good idea? That you’d forgotten what I told you before.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind so hazy and frazzled from your oncoming mental breakdown. He wasn’t helping it either with his incessant badgering. He was easily overcrowding you, his frame blocking your field of view. Your breathing picked up as you felt your vision closing in. He was everywhere. And all in between.

You’d wanted to tell him you really had only been going out to see a friend. And you really didn’t think it was that far off to assume you and Satoru weren’t together. But it was a little silly saying that. To not feel somewhat responsible for this. He was jealous of your friend. Fine. You could work with that. But were you dating? Did he consider what you’d had an actual relationship? You hadn’t even talked about it. Really talked about it. You kept repeating to yourself that you could fix this. You struggled to find the breaths and the words to voice your placations.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice somewhat breathy from panic. “Huuhh~” his voice drawn out, boarding on cruel (in your opinion) “What’d you say?” He leaned closer, voice lowering. “you’re too quiet.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” Your voice wobbled, as you tried not to cry. A tear made its way down your cheek despite your best efforts. You still loved him. Despite how much he was scaring you right now. You still loved your best friend. “Aww~” his thumb wiped away your tear, “you think a ‘sorry’s gonna cut it?” You couldn’t stop the trembling now, his actions boarding on unpredictable. He wasn’t being the best right now, but when this was over, it would all be ok. Everything would be ok.

Satoru had to think quickly. And his mind was running a mile a second. He had you pinned against himself and the wall, the alleyway hidden from flooded roads.

It was late, and the odds of being interrupted were low. He wouldn’t let the moment slip. He had to solidify his place in your life. Had to push past your thoughts of him being friendly or playful. He’d say anything—do anything if it meant no one else’d have you. And that thought terrified him. He was positive that if another man touched you, he’d rip his throat out. Without batting an eye. He’d been ready to do so had your “friend” given any slight hint of wanting to hook up. He had been so sure he’d scared him away last time, but it seems he hadn’t taken the hint.

You watched Satoru carefully, his words sinking in. You still had no idea what he wanted from you. Had he not wanted an apology? Was he teasing you again? “Satoru, I don’t know—“ he quickly leaned in—kissing you. His teeth nearly knocking against yours as he further dominated your space. His hand still tangled up in the back of your hair.

He groaned into you, rocking himself closer against your cunt. You were so out of breath, you opened for air, only to have his tongue push through your lips. The feeling of him —all of him—was enough to make your head spin and your mind go blank. His proximity calmed your nerves in a way that made you feel more antsy than ever before. His hands left your hair, and began to roam. Feeling, clinging to places he hadn’t been before. At least not ‘intentionally’.

Giving you a second to breathe, his eyes darted, trailing his hands, his head resting on your shoulder. He was panting like a dog now. He’d never felt so riled up. It was only when he was with you. Only with you.

He’d easily found his way under your dress, tugging the fabric up to expose you to the cold night air. “W-wait, please—“ Your tugging on his arm did nothing to stop him, as his free hand found its way around your neck. A firm warning to shut up. His other hand, groping at your pillowy thighs, making their way up your side, fingers toying the underside of your bra. He shifted his thigh, pushing it right against your clothed cunt. You’d let out a breathy moan at this, as he loosed his hold on your neck.

He could see the way you responded to him. You were just as desperate as he was. He could feel you grind your hips against his thigh. The fabric of his pants dampening from the contact, as he released a string of curses. Your nails clawing into his shoulders as he started leaving wet open mouthed kisses against your neck. You felt so fucking good. He could feel himself succumbing to your needy whimpers, placing his clothes cock right where your entrance was hiding. His hips setting a rhythm that left you whining against him. He never wanted this to end.

All those nights spent listening to your siren’s call through the walls. All of those nights spent listening to your needy whines and whimpers. Begging for someone to come fuck you. Watching you through those cameras. Fucking his fist so hard, til he became his own needy pathetic whimpering mess. So close, yet he wasn’t ever able to touch. You were a fucking tease. And he loved every bit of you.

You were panting again. You felt yourself grow wet, your thighs seeking some friction against his leg. You needed to hold onto something. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You wet, baby?” His voice was teasing again, loving the way your pussy seemed to beg for him. He’d slotted himself fully between you, holding one of your legs up only to grind against your soaked pussy. When you don’t respond, his fingers curl around your neck tighter. You nod, breathlessly. “yes, yes, please, feel s’good” you’re fighting to stand, balancing on one leg, but you were sure he’d catch you if you stumbled.

“Ah, so honest. Where was this good girl earlier?” He felt his cock strain against his pants, almost painfully. “So obedient now.” Your eyes glazed, you mind filling with lewd fantasies of him spanking you black and blue for disobeying his word. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you sure as hell weren’t ready for this man. “Want me to fuck you here?”

His eyes watched you closely, scanning for any sign that you wanted him to stop. Though he doesn’t think he’d stop even if you had wanted him to. Finding nothing but lust clouding your vision, his fingers press in between your legs, edging the spot you needed him the most. He traced circles across your clit, stalling his dry humping. He was tempted just to eat out your pretty pussy there and now, feeling the slick pooling on his fingers. “Satoru,” you let out a breathy whine, bucking your hips.

“There you go. Look at you. You’re drenched for me.” You didn’t have the head space to be embarrassed now. When his fingers finally found your clit, it was game over. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately holding yourself up. His hand around your thigh offering some support as your knees buckled under you.

“Do you think you deserve to cum tonight?” Your gaze desperately snaps up to his. Your eyes pleading to let you cum. Begging him. He’s smiling at you, a genuine lazy smile. But his eyes do all the talking. “Answer me, pretty girl.”

You nod eagerly, feeling your hips push against his fingers again. He’s circling, slow and steady, painfully slow, never dipping into your dripping hole.

“Where’d that honesty go?” He narrowed his eyes, tutting. “Think long and hard about what you did tonight. Why you shouldn’t have gone out with him.” His words continued to wrap around your haze ridden mind, his pace picking up finally. “why you shouldn’t make me do unnecessary shit to earn your attention.” His voice nearing hostile now, as he rubbed your clit with damn near precision. “You think I like seeing you with him? That I like other men’s eyes on this body.” He was relentless in his pace, you felt yourself close, body stilling and mind barely listening, nails biting into him. You tried so hard to listen to him. So hard to be a good girl. So hard not to cum. “You’re mine. Everything that involves you, involves me. Every part of you—mine. Don’t you fuckin’ forget who you belong to.”

The sound of his voice mixed with his fingers slotting against you—not even inside you yet—had you climaxing hard. Your pussy clenching-pulsating around nothing. Satoru watch you come down from your high, transfixed on your face. On the way your hips pushed into him. The way your cum mixed slick coated his hand and fingers, dripping on his thigh. He was fucking obsessed. His fingers continue slowly circling your clit, maintaining a slow punishing pace. Your body going through shockwaves with each swipe, you desperately wiggle to get away, feeling heavily overstimulated.

“Please-please stop, ‘Toru, please, please” your whimpers and pleas going straight to his cock head. He couldn’t stop himself from abusing your cunt, wanting nothing more than to watch you squirm in his arms. He’d be nice.

He brought his fingers to his lips, taking a long digit into his mouth. Something he’d never wanted to do before. He just couldn’t help the morbid curiosity—what did you taste like? And fuck you tasted amazing. He cleaned his fingers, eyeing you hungrily.

“Who knew you’d be so naughty? Did you even listen to me?” His tone taunting, as if he were scolding a child. He flipped you around, pushing your chest against the wall, practically bending you over. It was uncomfortable to say the least. When you tried to move, he pressed his chest up against your back, leaning over you. Locking you in place. You felt his dick pressed against your ass, his hands on your hips.

“Stay still for me, yeah?” He rutted against you, letting out a strained groan.

“S’not fair.” He huffed against your neck, dry fucking you against the wall. Your previous slick trailing down your leg. You needed him inside you. So so so badly. “You don’t play fair.”

His hand finally made its way back to what you sure was a rats nest of hair. He’d already tangled it up either way. He finally had enough of the teasing, pulling himself free from his pants. He slotted himself between your folds, gathering some least your honeyed goodness before brutally thrusting into you.

He’d buried himself to the hilt, his hand holding your hip in place—leaving you no where to go. You’d wiggled to move away, and at your whimper, he all but growled into your neck, “take it. You’ll take it til I’m done. You hear me?”

He pulled himself to the tip before slamming himself into again, repeating the process over and over and over. The position had him hitting your sweet spot each thrust, the quiet whimpers turning into louder moans as his hand found its way to your mouth, fingers thrusting inside, gagging you. “You forget where we are? Pipe down, pretty girl. Don’t wanna get caught, do you?” He left his fingers in your mouth, fucking fiercely into you. Driving into you with a force that left you gasping. Each push pulled you closer to the edge as you felt like you were going to—needed to cum again.

He felt your cunt clench around his dick, felt it more than you knew. He felt everything tenfold, his infinity working overtime on all of his senses. His cursed energy never dropping. Felt your cunt pulsating around him, heard every wet slap his balls made against your puffy clit. Felt how you clenched up when he spoke to you, and wondered if you were always like that. His skin was set on fire—every part that touched you, burned.

“Shouldn’t even be getting off to this, y’know? Supposed to be my turn.” Each word enunciated by a rough thrust into you, your hushed moans and pants spurring him on. He was convinced you were his everything. You were just so tight and so warm. He wasn’t able to hold back when he pumped you full, his seed deep inside. He moaned out your name as he felt your cunt spasming around his dick. Sucking him in, milking his cock dry. His fingers slipping from your lips—tightly gripping your neck, his other brushing your hip.

He hadn’t bothered pulling out. Why would he? It wasn’t like he’d planned on letting you leave in the first place.

65 notes · View notes

dontopenfairies · 3 days ago

Text

“Jesus! It’s pouring!” She covers her head with her arms as she strides quickly across the parking lot. He jogs a little to try to keep up.

She stops under the awning of the super market, smiling at him over her shoulder, lit by the yellow glow of the windows.

“What did you need again?”

“Just coconut oil,” he says, and she lets go of the handles of the basket she’d started to pick up.

Onto the black mat just beyond the sliding doors and then across the tile and down the aisles he follows her.

“Where do they even keep coconut oil?” she wonders aloud. “Hey, that’s cute.” She uses her foot to point at a small blue water bottle on a low shelf. “I should get you that.” She laughs at him over her shoulder.

“I think that’s for kids…” he says, trailing behind her as they round a corner and head up the next aisle.

“Here it is!” She takes a jar of coconut oil off the shelf and passes it to him just as he reaches her. “Is that the right kind?”

“Yeah! This will work!”

“Oh my gosh, look at this!” At the end of the aisle, there’s a little cardboard display full of stuffed animals. She squats down and pulls out a brown monkey clutching a little blanket. “This is so cute. And it’s so soft, too! Feel that.” She holds it out to him and he pets it very briefly and awkwardly before dropping his hand to his side again.

“Oh, come on, isn’t that cute? I think it comes with the blanket, too, aww.” She straightens up, still holding the monkey. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, um, it’s cute.”

“Okay, I’m getting it for you,” she says decisively. He follows her to the register and she sets the monkey down on the conveyor belt and points at it to tell him to set down his coconut oil, too. She makes small talk with the cashier as she unsnaps her wallet.

As soon as they’re out of the store, she falls into step next to him and leans very close. “You’re doing okay? Do I need to check you when we get to the car?”

“Umm…”

“Okay, I’m going to. You didn’t get your pants wet in the rain, did you?” She glances over his shoulder.

“No!”

“Okay, I was just asking, jeez.” They’re next to the car. It’s still raining hard. She clicks the key fob and it makes a little chirp-chirp sound as the car unlocks.

He gets in and starts to fasten his seatbelt but she stops him. “Just a second, okay?”

“Not here…”

“Is anybody looking in our car?” She reaches around and undoes his belt while he squirms in the seat.

“No, but…”

“Then everything’s fine.” Her hand reaches down his pants and squeezes his padding. “You’re dry. Good job.” She puts her arm around his shoulder and squeezes him for a second.

“Yeah, I know when I need to go to the bathroom and everything…” He zips up his fly and buckles his belt before pulling on the seatbelt again.

She twists her key in the ignition. “Uh-huh…and that’s why you wet yourself on Monday, right?”

“Not a lot!”

“Enough to soak through your pull-up.”

“Well, maybe…” He looks at his hands in his lap.

She puts her hand on the back of his headrest as she backs out. Once they’re on the road, she passes the monkey to him. He sets it on his lap and strokes the blanket with his hand.

“You’re so funny. You were all embarrassed in the store but I knew you wanted that toy.”

“Maybe a little bit…it’s really cute.”

“What are you making us for dinner again?” She slows to a stop. The rain hammering on the window shield is warping the red traffic light outside.

“Thai coconut soup,” he says, moving the monkey from one knee to the other, pretending it’s jumping around on its own.

“That is going to be so good in this weather.”

Just a few minutes later they pull into the driveway and he undoes his seatbelt and grabs his coconut oil, ready to jump out of the car.

“Hey hey hey hey,” she says, catching him by the shoulder. “Not so fast. Let me check you again before we go inside.”

#oc

60 notes · View notes

jeankluv · 2 days ago

Text

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 22

words: 3,5k

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths. Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

notes: it’s embarrassing to come here after almost a month, but with everything in my life I don’t find time to write anything 😭 but even if it takes me a lot I will give an ending to this story, I promise.

The urls are not working, so until then there won’t be url link. But a link for the materialist would be at the end.

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Satoru rarely left the Gojo family home and when he did, he was always accompanied by his nanny. But to little Satoru, at the age of five, the mere fact of going beyond the stone walls that prevented him from seeing further, seemed like an adventure, a great adventure. For being only five years old, he had already tried to go out on more than one occasion but had obviously failed miserably. But Satoru did not give up, he wanted to see more, he did not want to be locked up like a bird.

So that day Satoru was thrilled when his nanny told him they were going on a little adventure. Little Satoru had his blue jacket on and moved his little fits around while looking through the window of the car.

Next to him his nanny was sitting and in the front seat the family chofer was driving in silence, with his eyes covered by those black glasses. But little Satoru was just too focused on the city that he barely got to see, the cars passing, the skyscrapers, everything was amazing for the five year old boy.

“We have arrived.” The chofer said as the car stopped in front of a white building.

Satoru looked at the building curious wondering what that place was, his nanny thanked the chofer and they both got out of the car. Satoru held his nanny’s hand as they both entered the building.

“Where are we?” Satoru asked, looking at her with his big blue eyes.

“This is a planetarium, you know what it is?” Satoru shook his head not knowing what it was. “Well it’s a place where people can learn about planets and the stars.”

“The ones in the sky?” Satoru asked as he looked around and up.

“Yeah, the ones you see at night.” She explained.

His nanny, who had been with him for over a year, was called Fumiko and was the person Satoru spent the most time with and the person little Satoru loved the most. He barely saw his parents and every time he was with them, the relationship was cold as winter, but with Fumiko he felt the love he didn't feel with them.

He walked across the hallway observing everything, his blue eyes discovering new things he didn’t know about, vibrant colors and lights all over the place.

“Little Gojo.” Fumiko called him.

Satoru clenched his cheeks and glared at Fumiko. “Don’t call me Gojo.” He said as he crossed his arms.

“Why?” Fumiko tilted her head.

“I don’t like it.” Satoru looked at the ground and began to play with his feet.

“Why don’t you like it?” Fumiko knelt before him.

“Because… because it’s the same name as dad and him…” Satoru’s words trailed off, but Fumiko quickly picked up on the boy’s message.

“Okay, how about I call you… little Satoru?”

Satoru’s gaze lit up. “But I’m not little!” He protested again.

“Oh of course you are!” Fumiko replied mockingly. “You are so little!”

“No I am not!” Satoru replied.

“But only little boys get to have dessert later.” Fulminó said, knowing too well that Satoru couldn’t deny having dessert.

Satoru felt silent and then hugged Fumiko. “I’m little.” He said.

“Yes you are.” She said, hugging his little body back. “Now let’s go inside, the show is about to start.” She smiled. “You know my best friend is the one presenting.” Fumiko mentioned.

Satoru looked at her. “Can we meet her?”

“Of course, after she is done showing everyone about the planets we can.” Fumiko said. “And you know… she has a daughter who is your age, maybe next time you can meet her too.”

“And maybe I could have a friend!” Satoru excitedly said.

“Or a girlfriend! She is really cute.” Fumiko mentioned.

“No! I don’t want that!” Satoru protested. “Love is bad.”

“No, little Satoru.” Fumiko took him in her arms as they walked inside the room. “Love is good, and you will see it once you find it.”

“And how will I find it?” He said, moving on the chair that he was now sitting.

“It will happen, and with your good heart I’m sure it will be beautiful.” Fumiko pinched his cheek. “Now look…” She whispered, pointing out to the ceiling, which was beginning to light up with stars as the light faded.

Satoru’s eyes shined when he saw all the constellations there. It was exciting, it was magical. Little Satoru didn’t feel like that moment was real.

A woman appeared on stage and she started talking, causing Satoru's attention to increase, the colors that illuminated the space were reflected on her face. The woman spoke softly as she moved around the stage and showed different images and holograms. Satoru became more and more excited.

His attention never left the environment, enjoying every single moment of it. He wanted to do that too, he wanted to study the stars, the planets, he wanted to be like her.

“Fumiko…” He whispered. “I want to be like her.”

“For real?” Fumiko asked with a bright smile. “You can ask her what she studied so you can be like her.” Satoru nodded, determined to do it.

The conversation went by in a flash, or so Satoru thought, wanting to learn more. Grabbing Fumiko's hand, they approached the stage, where Fumiko's friend was saying goodbye to some people.

Satoru's grip on her hand tightened, nervous about getting close to her. Fumiko and her friend exchanged greetings and then the woman's eyes landed on Satoru. The woman bowed and smiled.

“Hello!” She said with a great smile. “I’m Ren, what’s your name?”

“Satoru.” He said.

“Oh… and how old are you Satoru?” She asked him.

“I’m five… but I will be six in December!”

“So you are the same age as my daughter.” She smiled. “Maybe one day you can meet her and play with her.” Satoru nodded.

“Little Satoru, you don’t have something to ask Ren?” Fumiko spoke.

“Oh… I… I really liked what you said…” Satoru moved his hands. “I want to be like you!”

“Oh for real?” Ren smiled. “Well then you will have to study a lot!”

“I will!” Satoru responded.

“And love what you do a lot!”

“I will too! I will be the best and be like you!”

“I will be looking forward to that Satoru.” Ren touched his hair with a smile.

As soon as they left the place, Satoru asked Fumiko for books about space and the stars. He wanted to become someone like Ren, he wanted to be able to study the stars, study the night sky.

The next day Fumiko appeared in his room with a book in her hands, the first of many about the universe. Little by little Satoru found in this new world an escape and a relaxation to ignore the screams he received from his parents.

Luckily Fumiko was always there for him, together they walked to a lake and spent hours playing or reading one of the new astronomy books that Fumiko had bought him.

But that peace for Satoru soon ended, specifically on the day of his 6th birthday.

He ran through the entire house of the Gojo clan, as fast as his body allowed him and barefoot he went out into the cold Tokyo winter. His feet touched the cold snow and with tears in his eyes he shouted Fumiko's name, hoping that she would turn around and that what she had heard was not true.

Fumiko couldn't leave, she had to stay there, she was the only person who truly loved and cared for him. And now she was leaving.

Satoru cried for hours as the snow fell, waiting for Fumiko to return. But she never did.

At the time Satoru didn't understand why Fumiko left without saying goodbye, without explanation. It wasn't until he was 17 that one of the workers confessed to him that Fumiko had been fired by his parents for putting ideas in Satoru's head.

Even though his parents tried for years to get Satoru to continue and become a lawyer, Satoru refused and after learning the truth he was even less likely to give in to it.

That’s why he enrolled himself secretly on the degree he wanted so badly.

“Stop giving me such a hard time!” Satoru shouted to the phone while he walked across the campus. “This is my life so just let me!”

Satoru rubbed his eyes in frustration as he listened to his father speaking on the other side. He felt his backpack bump into something, or rather someone. “Sor—…”

“Son, you really disappointed me.” He heard.

“Just leave me!” He scream.

“All of this is that nanny’s fault…”

“Don’t bring Fumiko into this and now get lost!” He said before hanging off.

Satoru turned to see if the person who crashed into him was still there. But it wasn’t, he only saw a figure of a girl far away from where he was. Frustrated, he ruffled his hair and walked to his classroom.

Everyone turned to look at him, talked about him or directly approached him, because they knew who he was and he hated it so much.

He entered the class and made himself comfortable in one of the seats. The rest of his classmates started to enter, Satoru was not really paying too much attention, not until he saw you.

You entered the classroom, your backpack hanging from your shoulder, as you looked at a paper you held in your hands. Satoru knew it in that instant and the memory of when he was little started to pass through his head. You were that girl he had met at the lake, you were you, right? Satoru was convinced that you were.

He tried to move to another seat, but the people next to him prevented him from doing so, so he could only watch you from behind. Sitting by the window, occasionally looking through it.

When the class ended, Satoru jumped out of his seat and approached you, but your cold gaze and small snort left him with his feet planted on the floor.

After that Satoru only received blank stares and ignorance from you, but he still wanted to find you, get to know you, watch you and your friend, like that for two years.

“Teacher, I was wondering if in the next pair assignment you could put me with…” Satoru named you.

“And why is that Gojo?” Professor Tanaka looked at him.

“Well…” Satoru scratched the back of his neck. “We’re the best in the class, we could work well and also, no one would take advantage of us, you know, there are people who end up never doing anything.”

Tanaka thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” Satoru bowed. “But please don’t comment on this.”

“Sure, now leave Gojo.”

Satoru walked out of the classroom with a smile on his face, he could finally interact with you, he wouldn't have to watch you from afar. Even though your reaction was what he expected from Satoru, he didn't give up.

He never did. Especially when he got to know you better, he was sure that he was never going to give up on you and what you had.

But then everything was black and only constant beeps were everything he could hear. Satoru mind was racing, he was in the middle of the match and then… then he had the ball and…

Oh yeah, Sukuna… he fell and hit his head on the floor. That happened?

He wasn’t sure.

“You came to the party with our son right?” He heard a voice, it was distant but he knew who it was, it was his mother. “It was not difficult for us to track you down…No family, works in a grocery store and you are on scholarship.”

“I have a family…” And that voice, he knew that voice too well. He loved that voice.

“Dead…”

Satoru started to hear the voices more clearly, he was coming back, he felt his hand moving and his anger rising.

“You think he will thank you for this someday? For being the reason why he is wasting his potential.” His father said.

Satoru’s blue eyes slowly opened, he saw you, holding his hand, while your gaze was away from him and it looked sad. Satoru wanted to move and held you closer to him, taking away the sadness that you had in your eyes.

His eyes then moved to see them, his parents were there, standing tall feeling like they were superior to you.

“Leave…” Satoru murmured, he felt his ribs killing him as he spoke.

“Satoru…” You said, getting closer to him.

“Hey.” He smiled, trying to calm you down. “I’m back.”

“Son.” His father said.

Satoru’s eyes got darker as he turned to look at them. “Why are you still here?”

“We came to see you son.” His mother spoke.

“Well, you can leave because you are not welcome here.

Satoru’s voice was firm, each word cutting through the tension in the room like a blade.

“Son.” His father said, his tone cutting, clearly not used to being dismissed. “We came all this way to check on you, and this is the thanks we get? You’ve always been ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?” Satoru’s laugh was dry and humorless as he leaned lightly against his pillows. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to live up to your impossible expectations. And the one time I decide to do something for myself, you have the audacity to call me ungrateful?”

His mother stepped forward, her face a mask of cold composure. “We only want the best for you, son. Do you think this… childish rebellion will get you anywhere? Look at you now.”

“No.” Satoru replied, his voice firm. “I’m here because I put my heart into something I love. Something you’ll never understand because you only care about control and appearances. I’m sick of letting you dictate my life.”

“You’re being a fool.” His father snapped. “You’re throwing away a future we worked so hard to build for you. And for what? To pursue a fleeting passion? Or worse.” He stared at you, his expression hardening. “To follow someone who is clearly beneath you?”

The words hit you like a slap, but before you could respond, Satoru’s voice rang out, cold and sharp. “Don’t you dare speak of her like that.”

His father blinked, surprised by the venom in Satoru’s tone. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Satoru said, his blue eyes shining despite his weakened state. You can insult me all you want, criticize my decisions, my career, whatever. But you can’t disrespect them. They support you more than you ever have.

His mother’s lips thinned. “Satoru, we’re just trying to protect you. From yourself and from… people who don’t understand what it means to be part of our family.”

“Enough.” Satoru interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “I’m sick of hearing you tear me down. I’ve spent my entire life trying to fit into the mold you wanted, and it’s never been enough. I’ve found something that makes me happy, someone that makes me happy, and if you can’t respect that, then maybe it’s best if you don’t come around anymore.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. His parents exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off of them.

“Okay.” His father said after a long pause, his voice cold. “If this is the path you insist on taking, don’t come crying to us when it breaks down.”

His mother turned around without another word, her heels clicking loudly against the tile floor as she walked to the door. His father followed, stopping only to cast one last disdainful glance in your direction before leaving.

The door closed with a click and the silence that followed was echoing. Satoru let out a long sigh, his body sinking back against the pillows.

You took his hand, your fingers shaking slightly. “Satoru…”

“I’m fine…” He said quietly, though his voice was thick with emotion. He turned to you, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry you had to see that. They… they’ve always been like that.”

You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You stood up for yourself, for us. I’m proud of you.”

He gave you a slight smile, squeezing your hand. “They don’t define me. And they don’t define us. I’m not going to let them get in the way of what I want.”

You leaned forward and gently rested your forehead against his. “Good...”

He closed his eyes, the tension in his body started to fade away as he held your hand. “As long as you’re here, I can handle anything.”

“And I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered.

“I know…” Satoru whispered, leaving a tender kiss on your head.

“I should call the doctor.” You broke your distance. “For them to check you.”

“Stay, let’s stay like this a bit more.” He hugged, even though he felt pain he didn’t want to let your warm go from his side. “I’m a bad person if I say I don’t want to see them again?”

Satoru got nervous as your silence grew more, but his heart soon relaxed when your calm tone reached his ears. “No… no you are not. They are the bad ones, not them. They have only looked out for the benefit of the family, never for you, and you have wanted to seek your happiness. And that happiness is not with them.” You pulled away and held his face carefully. “Don’t blame yourself, because it is not your fault at all.”

Satoru softly smiled. “I love you.”

You smiled back. “I love you too… but don’t scared me like that again.” You said. “You know how terrified I was when Nanami and Haibara appeared on the store and told me something happened?”

“Birdie… I’m so sorry…”

“I’m killing that guy.” You said with a firm tone.

“Who Sukuna?” You nodded. “He is quite big you know?”

“You doubt me? I was black belt in taekwondo and if he hurt you I won’t hesitate.” You looked at him and Satoru smiled.

“I’m sure that will be handled… don’t worry, okay?” He kissed you.

“I will always worry about you…” You said. “Because I care about you.”

The room fell quiet again, the only sound the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Not much time passed before a nurse came to the room, getting surprised by the fact that Satoru was awake. Soon enough the doctor came in, wanting to make sure Satoru was in perfect conditions.

“You have a broken rib and fortunately the hit on your head wasn’t serious.” The doctor said checking the pages on his hands. “But you will have headaches for a week and the broken rib, it will take around six or eight weeks to be fully recovered.” Satoru nodded while listening to those words. “So no activities during that time, you need to rest.” Then he looked at you. “Make sure he follows...”

“Doctor, I’m right here.” Satoru protested.

“Well that’s it then, I will see you before sending you home.” The doctor said leaving the room.

Satoru smirked and looked at you. “So my beautiful girlfriend will be taking care of me?”

“Yeah, and I will make sure you properly rest Satoru Gojo.” You said. “Don’t look at me like that, you need to recover.”

“I promise I will be nice.” He smiled. “You know… you could stay with me, in my apartment.” He held your hand. “It would be a good way to start seeing how well we get along living together before moving…”

You looked at him. “Satoru… are you indirectly asking me to move in together?”

Satoru chuckled, kissing your hand. “Would it be a bad idea? I plan on moving from that apartment once I've recovered, now that my relationship with my parents it’s broken, I want to start living completely for myself.” He looked at you without blinking. “And I don’t know birdie, starting that chapter with you warms my heart completely.” The distance between the two of you started to be shorter. “So tell me birdie, would you live with me?”

You scanned his face and a soft and shy smile broke into your face. “Sounds good… I would love to be there ‘Toru.”

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

#jujutsu kaisen #fanfic jjk #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x oc #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo #gojo angst

41 notes · View notes

badomensgoodomens · 3 days ago

Text

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER 3

Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: really random smut. soz. not proofread! really random. definitely for the plot moment.

i hope you guys eat this up like you did with the teaser.

taglist at the bottom

It was nearing the end of the US tour, and honestly, my bones ached. We were all drained, even Jolly, who always kept a calm-ish composure, was antsy. It was our one day off, Matt dragged us to some shopping plaza.

It was lowkey chill, just sitting in the food court talking about some post tour plans. I swear I saw a flash of red hair, it made me sit up a little straighter. But when I turned to look, there was nobody. God, I was so exhausted I was seeing shit now. Nick was chatting about how apparently a pretty girl moved in next door to the house he shared with his brother. About the time that kid got a girlfriend.

Nicholas invited me to spend the break at his parents' ranch, which felt like home to me too—they were practically my second family. That was the bond Nicholas and I shared. Ruffilo had always been my best bud, Nick and Jolly coming in at a close second. I took Natasha there once, to meet my makeshift family. She didn’t show up.

It was embarrassing on my behalf, I had boasted about her to Nicholas mom countless of times. She was excited for me, my career restricted my love life, yet there I was, hooking up with girls.

I swear I saw her red hair again, the same red hair that we’d get into arguments about. Stupid arguments really, her hair kept staining my pillows, wondering how many other guys' pillows she stained.

“Dude- are you even listening?” Matt leaned forward, waving his hand in my face. I rubbed my eyes with my palms. “I’m fucking wrecked.” I grumbled, taking a sip of the coke in front of me. Matt hummed, flicking through his work diary. “Got 6 months break, back on for 6 months, and off again.” I just nod, too exhausted to absorb any information.

Back at the venue, I immediately seek refuge in between the grey sheets of my bunk, my mind a million words per minute. I fumbled with the cover of my notebook, scrambling down some notes.

Why’s this always gotta happen to me?

I should have known.

I never fail to learn from mistakes, still throwing stones.

Blah blah blah….

I feel my focus fading away, i had high hopes

Running from the man I used to be, but I'm too slow.

It was honestly the roughest of rough drafts, but I was itching to get back in the studio. Ideas were just piling up, emotions weaved within poem-like structures, they were all.. rough, and definitely needed fine tuning, but they were beginning to represent an album.

Songwriting is not something that can be forced, it's an intricate, spread of emotion with an equally as unique and specific composition in the background. It was never good enough. Never, ever good enough.

I had watched time and time again how the scrunched up failed drafts piled up, nothing ever feeling raw enough, or not too the fans liking. It didn’t help that Sumerian were so fucking picky on albums, or that ever since we released that song with poppy, we were obligated to tour with her. The rumours were digging my head in.

Is this really what I want for my career? I ponder on that question too much. I should bring it up in therapy with Dr Tomson. Fuck. I was getting off track. Literally. Sumerian’s requirements for this album was a track that would hit the charts, and a minimum of 12 songs. Part of me regrets signing with them, but would I be this successful had I not?

I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Matt had pointed that out when I woke up the next morning. I just hummed, brain on autopilot. “You know, we need an artist for the new album’s cover, considering booking times that's something we need to plan months in advance.” Matt spoke, flicking through his diary. Nick stood in the kitchen in grey sweats, brewing coffee. “I could find somebody,” he said, handing me a cup.

I nodded, sitting on the bar stool. “Is Jolly up yet?” I asked, flicking through the pages of my notebook, briefly going over some of my rough, rough drafts. Nick shook his head, “Him and Nicholas got back late that night, something wrong with the wires and shit.”

NEUTRAL POV

She was scribbling in her journal as the sun went down, propped up on her windowsill, once again. Writing a poem about the bitterness and scars of her childhood, it always stuck out to her how Nevada was so quick to dance around what actually happened, yet she had no problem shouting it to the world. Whether it be from art, or journaling, it was easier to keep a manuscript, a direct display on what shaped her to be who she is today.

It felt like all her knowledge and skills of painting were slipping through her fingers, but it hurt too much to resume again. Emotionally, and financially. Maybe this was just something she’d have to come to terms with, she couldn’t dwell on her past quite like this anymore, she wasn’t old enough to do that quite yet.

“Let’s go out.” She said, her words rushed, standing in the doorway of Nevada's room. Nevada’s eyes were wide, she had begun to worry about her, and now she’s just popped up saying she wants to go out?

Choose your battles I guess

Nevada and Y/n got ready together, something they used to do as rebellious teens. Good vibes and pregame drinks, music blasting through the house. All dolled up in sparkly dresses, with dawn the hype man, the two set off into the city. The city was illuminated with a series of advertisements and bustling nightclubs, everyone with the same objective; to get absolutely shit-faced.

And so those two did, Dawn snuck Nevada away to do.. stuff.. In the car, while she was grinding up against a particularly tall blonde boy. His voice was fuckin hot, like musky and sexy and every single adjective you could use to describe a man. And god, he smelt good, and his touch just made her melt.

She hadn’t expected to run into her cousin and her husband, and his bandmates. But when she laid her eyes on that fine ass man standing- no. looming over the group of british boys. He introduced himself as Vessel, quite an uh- unique- name, but who was she to judge? She was horny, and there was a tall metal vocalist right in her grip.

Everything about him was enticing, his defined, gorgeous abs, his absolute killers of canine teeth, and his voice. It made her unbelievably wet, she needed something. She’d gone without for so long, having thrown her vibrator out when she met noah.

They snuck down the side alleyway, the booming stereo filtering through the constant revolving door around the corner. She was a fit of giggles as he hiked up her sparkly dress. Compliments rolling off his tongue, as he traced the curves of her ass.

His fingers ran along the waistband of her panties, soft, dainty pink ones. “Yeah..? you want me to touch you?” She smiled up at him, her pearly whites making his jeans tighten. With a soft tug of the hips, she had her back to him as he fumbled with the button of his jeans.

“Fuck… so wet.. already?” he groaned out, lining himself up. She let out a strangled moan as she sank down on his cock, overwhelmed at the size. Her fingers grasped around his wrists as he began to move, holding on for dear life.

It was a quickie in a back alley way, but it didn’t stop the shame when she woke up in his bed the next morning.

“I’m so fucking sorry oh my god my cousin is going to kill me-” she spouted off, pacing around this poor guys island bench. He sat at the barstool, eating bacon and eggs.

“Stop stressing.” he huffed gruffly, a sleepy look on his face.

“Dude- like.. Respectfully, youre a fucking stranger, i’m in your house, you’re in an anonymous band bro!!” She shouted, a little bit more than panicked.

“It was a quickie, nothing more. We can be friends if you’re so worried about it.” he mumbled, eating his food.

“Ugh…” she sat down on the barstool next to him, stealing his coffee cup. “So… what’s it like being a rockstar?”

“Busy. Why do you ask?” he questioned, turning to face her.

“Well… I dated- sorry, hooked up with a rockstar and never really asked him about it.” she shrugged, not caring if it was an overshare.

“How come?’ he asked, a curious tone in his voice.

“Didn’t necessarily stick around for me to ask. Was more of a ‘pump and dump’ guy.” she responded, toying with the keychains of her car keys.

“Don’t ever say that again.” He cringed, resuming eating. “So why’d you hook up with him in the first place?”

“He was hot.”

“No shit Sherlock, other qualities.”

She sat for a moment, really questioning everything. Why. why, why?

“He was carefree, wasn’t afraid to be himself, but was a bit afraid of commitment.” was the answer she scrounged up. He just hummed, “So who was it?”

She grimaced, awaiting this question. “I'd rather die than tell you because I think you guys at least have connections.”

“How’d you meet this douche anyways?”

“I was studying art and design at a local uni, he was studying design briefly.”

“You do graphic design?” Vessel asked, looking down at her quizzically.

“Mostly art, but I want to turn it digital.” she responded, pulling out her phone to show him pictures. He studied each unique piece intricately, his face lighting up. A man who could appreciate real art.

“How much would I have to pay you to design an album cover?” he asked, putting the phone down. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“I like your style, I'm offering you a chance to work with me.” he states bluntly, staring at her. “What the fu-” he cut her off, “we can get you head of the design team, i liked your work and i’m willing to pay however much.”

“Don’t you have like.. bandmates to discuss this with?”

“bandmate, others are tour personnel.”

“Interesting- anyways, are you sure?”

“Yes, Being on the design team also means you’re in charge of designing different things like merch, billboards and visuals. It sounds stressful, but the pay is good and you’ll have a chance to come on tour with us.”

“Fuck man- take a girl out to dinner before telling her this”

He chuckles, grabbing out a notepad.

“I’ll write my details down, I can get you employed asap, if you want to do this.”

“Do I have time?” she asked, rubbing her thighs anxiously. He nodded, Her phone rang and she fumbled to answer it, bringing the nearly dead phone to her ear.

“Dude where the fuck are you-”

It was her sister.

“Hi, first off! I'm 23. I can be wherever I please, but can you please come pick me up?”

“Only you’d get a job opportunity out of hooking up with someone.” Nevada laughed, driving a ridiculously hungover Y/n home to their shared townhouse. “Hey- we are cool now! He’s a friend, and he said I could go on tour with him.” she retorts back.

“Are you trying to seek vengeance for noah?” Nevada asked, sipping shitty iced coffee. “Most definitely. That fucker thinks he can act like he didn’t tell me he loved me mid sex, he can suck it when im touring with his favourite band.”

“Absolutely cold,” Nevada laughed, the hood was down of Dawn's convertible, the wind blowing through her wavy highlights. The air smelt of sea salt, the beach not being far from their house. She felt a little more free now, ultimately deciding to take up Vessel's offer, on both the album cover and design position. Although she would be leaving Nevada to manage the cafe on her own, Nevada knew she needed this. A push in the right direction, to make some new friends, and perhaps run into some old ones.

Noahs POV

Holy fucking shit maybe i wasn’t hallucinating.

In the sea of fans you couldn’t miss her unmistakable red hair and plump lips. It seems as though she’s gotten even more botox from the last time he saw her. Why was she even here? What could she benefit from even being here? I had to peel my eyes away from her, trying to maintain the energy of the crowd.

She was by herself, in a tight skirt and a bikini top. I saw her towards the back, but as I progressed through the store I noticed she was nowhere to be found. It was relieving and terrifying all at the same time.

We finished our set, sweat-drenched and exhausted, but riding the high of the music. Weaving between crew members, I entered the dressing room, boys in tow.

“Hi”

I jumped, turning around to face whoever was standing by the door.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled, stepping back as she stood forward. “Natasha, how did you get through?” Jolly stated, stepping closer to her. “I’m just here to see noah!” she smiled, veneers on full display, a coy smile across her red lips. “I don’t want to see you,” I sneered, arms crossed.

“Come onnn noah! Lighten up!” A smile flashing over her face, she stepped forward, reaching for me. An all too familiar feeling pooling in my stomach.

“Don’t.” Jolly said firmly, stepping between us. Anger rippled through me, not wanting to swing on a woman. My palms were sweaty, why does she want to talk? Nicholas appeared at the door. “Hey do you guys want to go- what the fuck?”

Natasha stood between us, twirling strands of red hair. Nick fumbled with his phone to contact security, visibly looking stressed, I shot a look at Nicholas. “You know, I really miss you, Noah bear.” She smiles, her annoying voice hanging heavy in the air. “What the fu- Tash you fuckin cheated on him?” Nick piped up, putting his phone in his back pocket. I cringe at the nickname, rubbing a hand over my face. The tension was palpable, silence echoing through the corridor.

“Get out of here..” I grumble, thoroughly embarrassed. Her face feigns offence, “Noah, we were made for eachother!” Nicholas tensed in the doorway, each member uncomfortable with the old yet new presence. “Get the fuck out of here Natasha.” He calls out, leaning against the doorframe, a pure look of disdain displayed on his face.

“Boo! You guys all suck. Noah bear loves me, and he’ll come visit me at the Inn tonight!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. Beaming with some profound pride. “I don’t fuckin like you-” “stop denying it my love!!” she shouted, in the same moment, security burst through the door, grabbing her elbow roughly.

She wriggled and shouted at them, her body thrashing about, not keen on being forcefully escorted out. I just sighed loudly, embarrassed. My tired body collapses down onto the leather couch. The commotion catches the attention of a few crew members, specifically matt.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence.

“I still think she’s a porn star.”

TAGLIST: @emluvsuxo @lilcrazy011 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy @lma1986 @cheyyyyr @niicolelynn @looney-goose @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @supersquirrel1996

The next chapters are so not going to make sense. pray for me.

35 notes · View notes