#so the first one i’m back to is so kind

[rememberwren]

Been thinking about the day Johnny’s mouth takes him too far while the two of you are fucking and he calls you a slut.

He’s probably done it often enough before with other women and partners. He personally likes a little degradation himself in the moment, so it feels odd to imagine that there are people out there who don’t. He’s a little self-centered that way.

I can imagine him above you pinning you to the bed, both your figures sweat-slicked. Your hands around his shoulders, nails digging into his back as he tries to drill his cock through you and into the mattress. He’d been edging you for a while, working you up to a plateau that he refuses to let you tumble over, and it has you a little more vocal than usual. A little less composed. A little more needy.

He thinks you’re perfect like this, brain leaking from your ears, mouth parted in a perpetual gasp, throat going raw from all your pleadings. Johnny’s naturally a yapper, so he’s probably been providing in depth (we’re talking unabridged War And Peace length) narration of the entire event, and it seems like such a small thing for him to slip the word amongst all the praises he lavishes on you.

He doesn’t understand why you go stiff and shocked underneath him.

“I’m not a slut,” you mutter into the silence when his thrusts stop abruptly. Except you kind of were acting like one, weren’t you? Moaning and gasping, begging. For the first time with Johnny, you feel ashamed. Embarrassed by your reaction to the sex and by your reaction to the word in equal measure.

Credit to himself, Johnny knows when the moment has passed. He slips out of you and gathers you up even against your embarrassed protests—God, you’re fine, it’s not a big deal, it just caught you off guard that’s all!—and apologizes, reaffirms to you that he doesn’t really think such a thing about you. He doesn’t even really believe in sluts; why shouldn’t people do and crave the things that feel good? That’s just human nature, baby.

I imagine you listen and nod along to his heartfelt apologies (and of course you know he means them), but he can see the sawdust-sized speck of anxiety in your eye that doesn’t dissipate. He knows that the window of opportunity to snuff out that ember is closing fast, so his method of drowning it out is to pin you down and to show you what real slut behavior looks like.

[calisturniolo]

CLOTHING HAUL

summary. . . while you were away visiting family in florida chris sent you a video of him showing the clothes you had ordered.

pairing. . . chris sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings. . . cuteness

you had left chris two weeks ago to go visit your family in florida for a month, and before you left you made a clothing order and while you were on your trip chris sent you a video of him giving you a ‘haul’ of the clothes you bought.

you were laying in your bed, ready to put a show on and go to sleep when you felt your phone vibrate with a bunch of snapchat notifications. when you turned your screen around and saw chris’ name show up you were instantly confused, you and chris never used snapchat to communicate.

chris had sent you some kind of video, considering the amount of notifications you just got from him. he wasn’t one to spam so you were curious as to what he had sent you. pressing his name and opening up the messages, your screen was suddenly filled with the familiar sight of your handsome boyfriend holding up a big bag of the clothes you had ordered online before you left for florida.

a smile instantly came over your face as you realised what he was going to do. his voice began to fill your ears, pretending to be you.

he began speaking in a much higher pitched voice then usual, trying to act like you as he picked up the first piece of clothing from the bag. you couldn’t help but giggle, he was so cute no matter what he did.

“hey guys, today i’ve got a clothes haul. so let’s get started” he said, with a high pitched funny voice.

but as soon as he started talking again but his voice was normal but still pretending it was his haul.

he held up the first top he found in the bag, examining in his hands as he held it up close to the camera. “let’s start with...this adorable top...” he spoke, pretending to act as if it was his own order. but you knew chris well enough to know he knew nothing about girls clothes nor would he ever wear a top like that.

“the adorable top…that looks like it will be see through when i put it on my body — amazing, i love when that happens” he says sarcastically, holding up the strapless white tube top.

he grabbed another one out from the bag, he held it up in his hands with a confused look on his face, “and... what the fuck is this?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the camera with a cocky grin. he held up a black backless halter top, “and of course this is for when i’m going to an orgy” he jokes as he notices how revealing the top is.

he continued to look through the bag of clothes, each one getting more revealing than the last. he pulled out a black mini skirt, he held it up in front of his face, looking at it with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“and this little skirt is obviously for when i’m feeling frisky” he joked, slightly wiggling his eyebrows with a pout at the camera.

he delved back into the bag, pulling out the next item. he pulled out a packet of thongs, he looked at them with a cheeky smile forming on his face as he held them up for the camera, “and, of course, we can’t forget these. the fucking bit of string that goes up my ass, but at least they have little cute bows on the front.” he chuckled, shaking the packet in his hand.

the bag was beginning to become empty, only two items left. he pulled out a bikini, a thong bikini with a triangle top. he held up the tiny little dark blue bikini, looking at it with a mix of shock and awe, “wow, this is… something else.” he chuckled, holding it up next to his body to compare how small it was to him.

“chat should i model it for yall?” he says with a cheeky giggle, he looks down at the bikini before looking back up at the phone that was propped up videoing him. he smirked before pulling on the bottoms over his shorts, and attempts to put on the top, but gets confused when all the tying comes into play.

he struggled trying to figure out how to tie the top on, his hands getting tangled in the strings as he tried to figure it out. he grumbled under his breath as he struggled, mumbling curses and profanities as he tried to pull the string to tie in a bow around his chest.

“finally” he says as he got it tied, very messily, around his body. he struck a pose, mocking you, “hi my names y/n and this is my new bikini, what do you all think? do i look sexy?” he mocks your voice before breaking character and laughing.

“okay i gotta get this shit off, im embarrassing myself so bad right now” he laughed as he fumbled with the strings and sliding the bottoms off his body. he was about to throw them back in the bag before he saw he had slightly stretched the bikini, “oh shit…sorry baby, i’ll get you a new one.” he said before throwing the bikini in a bag.

he looked at the bag where he had just thrown the bikini, guilt suddenly washing over his face. he knew how excited you were to get that bikini, and he hated the thought of having ruined it for you.

“damn, i can’t believe i stretched it out. i’ll have to get you another one for when you get back.” he muttered to the camera, scratching the back of his neck embarrassedly.

“back to the haul” he says dismissing the bikini before reaching in and taking out the last item, a dress. he held the dress up and looking at it confused due to all the strings and whatnot, “all i see is black lace and a bunch of strings. i’m not even gonna pretend i know what this is supposed to look like but no doubt you’ll look amazing in it.” he smiles before placing all your items back in the bag with a smirk.

“and that concludes my haul, i hope you all loved it. comment and like for more.” he says mocking your voice again, before pressing the end button on the video and pressing send to you.

as you finished watching the video, your face broke out into a wide smile. chris was always so goofy and adorable, and the way he was trying to pretend to be you was just too much. you couldn’t help but giggle at how silly he looked trying to wear the bikini and not knowing what to do with the dress, once your giggles died down you typed out a reply to chris’ videos.

dude are you fr 😭😭😭😭???? i literally just got that and you already stretched it.

but i’ll let it slide since it made me laugh and you’re cute. also that was the best haul i’ve ever watched.

“for an orgy” sooooo dramatic

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Second part in the series with Riddle: here.

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

[mythicalmaven]

smut 18 with max please

Burning Rivalry - Max Verstappen

This was my first time writing for Max Verstappen, so please let me know in the comments if i wrote it a okay or not :) Really wanna know if I failed miserably on this one or not lol hahah

Masterlist ↳pairing: max verstappen x female!driver!reader ↳word count: 2.2K ↳prompts used: 18 - "fucking hell, if I knew you were this good, I would have gotten you on your knees earlier" ↳summary: When the tension between you and Max finally gets resolved after a heated and competitive Grand Prix

↳content warnings: rivals to lovers, first kiss, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, blowjob, oral sex f!receiving, sassy talk between the two of them lol, slight begging (nothing much tho), a small hint of dom!max (but also not really), sexual tension

The tension between you and Max had always been palpable, but it wasn’t just because you were two of the best racing drivers on the grid. It was the rivalry that simmered beneath the surface, the unspoken competition that pushed both of you to your limits every time you got behind the wheel. You weren’t just friends—you were rivals, constantly trying to outdo each other on the track, and the fire that rivalry stoked didn’t stop when the race was over.

You had known Max for years, your careers growing alongside each other, and though there was a mutual respect, there was also a constant challenge, a need to prove who was better. It led to banter, to teasing comments, and sometimes, to something darker, more intense—like tonight.

The race had been brutal, both of you fighting tooth and nail for the podium. Max had edged you out in the final laps, taking the victory by a hair, and though you congratulated him afterward, there was a spark in your eyes that told him the rivalry was far from over.

But now, as you stood in Max’s driver’s room after the race, that competitive fire had taken on a new form. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made your skin tingle and your pulse race. Max was leaning against the couch, his racing suit half unzipped, revealing the sweat-slicked skin underneath. His eyes were dark, filled with something that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You drove like shit today,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips as you met his gaze, challenging him.

Max raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk of his own. “Is that why I’m the one holding the trophy?” he shot back, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “Just barely. You know I’ll get you next time.”

“Is that a promise?” Max asked, his voice low and filled with a teasing edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice laced with challenge. The banter, the back-and-forth, was like foreplay, each word stoking the fire that burned between you.

Max’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with intent as he pushed off the couch and closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. He was in your space now, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent—a mixture of sweat and something uniquely him—invading your senses.

“I think you like losing to me,” Max murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something more, something that made your breath hitch.

“In your dreams,” you shot back, but the words were softer now, your bravado faltering under the intensity of his gaze.

Max’s hand slipped to the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about I make you a deal?” he whispered, his voice rough and commanding. “You get on your knees for me, and maybe I’ll let you win next time.”

The words sent a jolt of arousal through you, your heart skipping a beat at the sheer audacity of his proposition. But you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand so easily. “Make me,” you challenged, your voice steady despite the racing of your pulse.

Max’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, something that made your knees weak. His grip tightened on your neck, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you were forced to look up at him.

“Oh, I will,” Max promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.

Before you could respond, Max’s lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was hard, demanding, and full of the fiery passion that always seemed to ignite between the two of you. His hands were on you, pulling you closer, holding you tight as his mouth claimed yours with a dominance that made your heart race.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed your body against his, needing more, needing everything he was offering. The rivalry, the tension, the years of unspoken desire—it all culminated in this moment, in the heat of his body against yours, in the way his lips moved over yours with a hunger that matched your own.

Max’s hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he guided you backward, pressing you against the wall. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving marks that you knew would linger long after tonight.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Max muttered against your skin, his voice rough with need as his hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head.

“Good,” you shot back, your voice breathless as you helped him strip you of your clothing, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. “Maybe now you know how I feel.”

Max’s eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you, his hands tracing the curves of your body, making you shiver under his touch. “On your knees,” he commanded, his voice rough and filled with authority.

But you weren’t about to give in that easily. “Make me,” you repeated, your eyes locking with his, challenging him to take what he wanted.

Max’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with a mixture of amusement and arousal. “You’re going to regret that,” he warned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

“Try me,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Max didn’t need any more encouragement. He pushed you down onto the couch, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again, his hands sliding down your body, touching, caressing, teasing. You could feel the heat of his arousal against your thigh, the hardness of him making your own desire flare even hotter.

His hands found your thighs, spreading them apart as he knelt between them, his eyes locked on yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “You’re going to beg for me,” Max promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.

You shivered at his words, your breath hitching as his mouth moved higher, teasing you with soft, feather-light kisses that made your body tremble with anticipation. You tried to hold on to your bravado, but the way he was touching you, the way his tongue flicked against your skin, was making it impossible to think, let alone resist.

Max’s hand slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against your wetness, making you gasp. He smirked at your reaction, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he continued to tease you, his touch light, almost maddeningly so.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me,” Max murmured, his voice rough with desire as he pressed a finger inside you, making you moan at the sensation.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sounds that threatened to escape, but Max wasn’t having it. He added another finger, curling them inside you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that made you see stars.

“Let me hear you,” Max demanded, his voice a low growl as he worked you with expert precision, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you were trembling with need.

“Max, please,” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Max’s eyes gleamed with triumph, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit as he pushed you to the brink. “That’s it,” Max encouraged, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Let go for me.”

And you did, your body convulsing with pleasure as you came apart in his hands, your moans filling the room as the orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense sensation leaving you trembling and breathless.

When you finally came down from the high, Max was there, his lips on yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with desire.

“Now, on your knees,” Max commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

This time, you didn’t hesitate. You slid off the couch, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands reaching out to free him from the confines of his racing suit. Max’s breath hitched as you took him in your hands, your touch sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you leaned in, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock in a soft, teasing kiss that made him groan with need. “You’re going to love this,” you promised, your voice a low, sultry whisper.

Max’s hand tangled in your hair, his eyes dark with anticipation as he watched you. “Show me,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. You took him into your mouth, your lips closing around him as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing him, driving him insane with every flick, every stroke.

Max’s grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting forward as he fucked your mouth, the pleasure building inside him with every movement.

“Fucking hell,” Max groaned, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill of satisfaction through you. “If I knew you were this good, I would have gotten you on your knees earlier.”

The words only spurred you on, fueling the fire of desire burning inside you. You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked harder, your tongue continuing its relentless assault on him. The sounds he made—those low, guttural moans—only made you want to give him more, to push him further toward the edge.

Max’s hips began to move more urgently, his hand guiding your head as he thrust into your mouth, the rhythm becoming more erratic as he lost himself in the pleasure you were giving him. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his body as he neared his climax.

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him shudder, his grip on your hair tightening as he fought to hold on. But you could tell he was close, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his muscles tensing as he teetered on the brink.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” Max’s words broke off in a strangled moan as his orgasm overtook him. His hips jerked forward, and you felt the first hot spurt hit the back of your throat. You didn’t slow down, working him through his release, swallowing every drop as he came, your tongue still swirling around him, milking every last bit of pleasure from his body.

Max’s grip on your hair loosened as the last waves of his climax washed over him, leaving him trembling and breathless. You pulled back slowly, your lips lingering on him for just a moment longer before releasing him, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

Max’s chest was heaving, his eyes dark and hooded as he looked down at you, his expression one of pure satisfaction mixed with something deeper, something almost primal. He reached down, his hand cupping your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look up at him.

“You’re incredible,” Max said, his voice rough and still thick with the aftereffects of his orgasm. There was a softness in his eyes now, a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled up at him, feeling a rush of pride at his words, your body still buzzing with the aftermath of what had just happened. “Glad you think so,” you replied, your voice laced with satisfaction and a hint of teasing.

Max chuckled, the sound low and warm as he pulled you up to your feet. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you close until your bodies were pressed together again. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that was all about savoring the moment, the heat of the earlier intensity giving way to something more intimate.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. “We should do this again,” Max murmured, his voice soft but full of promise.

“Only if you let me win next time,” you teased, your lips curving into a playful smile as you looked up at him.

Max’s eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness that made your heart flutter.

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the rivalry between you didn’t seem to matter anymore. There was something more now, something that went beyond the track, beyond the competition. And as you leaned into his embrace, you couldn’t help but think that whatever happened next, it was only the beginning of something much bigger, something that neither of you could walk away from.

Masterlist

[hgfictionwriter]

Discovery - Part Four

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's feeling the lowest she has in a long time. Things are at the tipping point and she needs to choose to either confront things head on or lose you forever.

Warnings: G!P content. Heavy angst. Body image issues or even dysphoria; mental and emotional anxiety; internal conflicts; themes of rejection and self-loathing; self-sabotaging behaviours. Language.

A/N: Chapters one, two and three.

“I can’t believe you. I’ve waited all day to hear from you - and nothing. After everything that happened, you just leave in the middle of the night and just dead silence. Are you kidding me, Jess?”

“First you give me the cold shoulder all evening without any explanation as to why. Started by a conversation you began, might I add. I tell you I love you. We kiss and you literally throw me off of you.”

“Yes, I was upset and I didn’t want to talk. But you just ghost me all day? I know you withdraw when you’re upset or overwhelmed, but you don’t even have the decency to check in with me or give me some kind of an explanation?”

Jessie sunk into her seat on the couch as she read your messages again. She’d been staring at them on and off for the past hour and felt paralyzed, unable to act.

She’d managed to make it to training this morning, but she was certainly worse for wear. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark circles under them from a mix of sleep deprivation and the time she’d spent crying. Her teammates immediately clocked her upset and some fawned over her trying to suss things out and help, but she was largely unresponsive.

She just wanted to do her drills to keep her mind off of you and the absolute disaster she’d created.

Coach recommended she talk to the sports therapist, and while she nodded her agreement, she had no intention of rushing. She already knew what they’d say and she wasn’t interested right now. If she was willing to do those things, guess what, she wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament in the first place.

So here she sat at home this evening, in self-imposed solitude and catatonic. The apartment was dead quiet as she flipped between scrolling distractedly through her phone and re-reading messages with you and looking at pictures of the two of you.

She needed to respond. But it seemed no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t figure out what to say. Nothing was remotely adequate. She let out a shuddering breath as she continued to remain inert.

Her heart raced as another message came in from you.

“I’d like to think we’d built enough of a connection and you have enough respect for me to at least acknowledge me and respond. I’ve been sitting here making up excuses in my head for you all day, but reality is, you just choose not to talk to me.”

She let her head fall heavily back against the wall with a dull thud. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists as she felt herself start to tear up yet again.

The end felt inevitable, but underneath all of her fear and anxiety it isn’t what she wanted. It would be easier perhaps. Just close herself off again. Be single again for god knows how long. She was exceptional at pushing people away and pretending it didn’t matter.

Then, maybe, when it felt safe again and the hardship she was currently experiencing was just a distant memory, she would hope to meet someone as incredible as you again. But for what? So she could compare them to you? Miss you? To fuck it all up again?

She released a slow, steady breath and brought her phone back up to reply.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I was at training earlier and I guess I just didn’t know what to say.”

“She lives. Well, thank you for replying... So. Do you know what you want to say now?”

She sighed in frustration.

“No.”

She shouldn’t be so curt.

“I wish I did.”

“Well. That’s very helpful.”

“I have some things I want to say. But if you’re not interested in hearing them or trying to resolve anything, I suppose there’s no point.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“I want to know.”

“Do you actually? Because, frankly, even if I told you how I feel last night, I’m not that interested in humiliating myself further or wasting my time if we’re not on the same page.”

Jessie’s chest constricted painfully as she read your message. She never used to consider herself a selfish person, but seeing the toll she’d taken on you, she couldn’t deny it. She wiped angrily at a stray tear at the corner of her eye.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to feel that way and I’m sorry I’ve caused it. I do want to hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t want to do this through text. It’s going to fucking suck but I want to talk in person.”

Jessie sat forward to the edge of the couch and leaned her forearms heavily against her thighs as she studied your message.

She was scared. She didn’t want to do that. Still, she owed you that, the truth, and so much more. And even if you left hating her, she had to make sure you knew it really was all her - you’d been perfect and all of this rot branched from her.

And if it really was the end, she couldn’t resist seeing you one more time.

“Okay. Where and when?”

—————

Jessie’s hands were cold and clammy as she walked down the hall to your apartment. She breathed heavily before catching herself and steadying them. She compulsively opened and closed her fists as she waited for you to answer.

When you opened the door, your expression was a far cry from the one she was used to seeing greet her. Instead of seeing a bright or warm smile, you looked tired and weary.

Guilt radiated through Jessie; she caused this single-handedly. She was supposed to make you happy, bring you comfort, make you feel safe and loved. Instead, she left you looking like a shell of yourself. Slowly at first, small nicks here and there, before a catastrophic and now lingering blow.

“Come in,” you said with only the slightest inflection in your voice. You stepped aside but didn’t make eye contact as Jessie entered.

“I, um, got you this,” Jessie said after she set her shoes aside and took off her backpack. She pulled a vinyl record out of it and handed it to you. She met your discerning gaze briefly before dropping it to the record in her hand. “I know you’ve been looking for it, so…”

You tentatively took it from her, a frown on your face as you examined it.

“Thanks,” you said flatly.

She knew it wouldn’t fix things or make things up to you - not by a long shot - but she had the faintest hope you would be more receptive.

When she forced herself to look up at you again, she saw you still studying the record. Eventually, your frown deepened and you looked at her almost accusingly.

“I don’t get you,” you said. “You barely talk to me these past couple of days and you act all cagey but then you do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

Your face faltered briefly before you grew stoic once more. “Some days you seem to really like me. Really care for me and understand me and we connect so well. And then others it feels like you can hardly stand to look at me.” A flash of emotion appeared on your face and disappeared just as fast. Your voice strained vaguely before you steadied it. “Never mind touch me.”

Jessie swallowed and dropped her gaze in shame. You went on, your voice cracking.

“I’ve tried to be really patient. But after the other night…I’ve done a lot of thinking and I can’t help but admit how hard it’s been.”

You sighed heavily and set the record down on a nearby table before returning and folding your arms tightly against yourself and leaning back against the wall. Your brow was heavy with a frown.

“And I know you've been trying." Your voice grew taut. "Prior anyway. And that's probably what makes it the worst. It's been hard for you, too - to be with me." Your face fell and your lip trembled briefly as you looked away.

Jessie's heart ached as she watched you battle with your emotions. All of the fear and worry she'd let dominate her fell away, replaced with an overwhelming need to hold you and make you feel better.

"It hasn't been," Jessie beseeched, taking a step forward but stopping when your gaze flicked back to her, warning.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" You said sharply. "I know you can’t stand to touch me. At first, I kept trying to give myself, and you, the benefit of the doubt - but the other night really proved that not only do you most definitely not find me attractive,” you laughed acerbically, “I think I might actually even repulse you.” You stared at her a moment, letting your words hang in the air and feigning amusement before choking back a sob. You visibly clenched your jaw before you forced another empty laugh. “That’s a fun one. My therapist’s about to get a ton of business from me.”

You took a shuddering breath and your voice cracked as you spoke. "I already know how this ends.”

“That’s not at all what’s happening or how I feel,” Jessie protested. She pressed the heels of her palms firmly into her eyes and grit her teeth. Her voice strained with burgeoning emotion. “Jesus Christ. That’s not it at all."

Your face screwed up and you gave a sad shake of your head as you stared her down.

“Stop. Just stop with the vague excuses. Just be honest with me. I don’t need you to confirm it, but don’t lie and tell me otherwise. I can tell,” voice breaking at the end. “Every time you pull away. How uncomfortable you can be when we’re even remotely physical. You can’t stand to kiss me for any length of time. I can feel you just waiting to pull away, like you’re fucking counting down the seconds until it’s over.” You started sobbing. “It’s horrible. Knowing you don’t want me like I want you.”

Jessie took a step toward you and you recoiled. She couldn’t help but think - maybe much like how she had with you times before.

“And don’t give me this whole ‘you’re shy’ or ‘you’re awkward’ thing again. I deserve more than your excuses.” Your voice grew softer. “And it’s not your fault you feel the way you do. You can’t control who you’re attracted to. Sometimes there can be an emotional connection and the physical just isn’t there. I don’t blame you. But I do blame you for dragging this out." You sniffled, wiping agitatedly at a tear that rolled down your cheek before giving her a defiant stare. "So just do what you should’ve done from the beginning.”

“It’s not you,” Jessie started and immediately saw the way you tensed up, ready to argue. She spoke quickly and urgently, her voice pleading for mercy and understanding. “It’s not you. I promise. It’s me - and I know how that sounds. But you were never the problem. I need you to know that.”

You looked ready to explode and Jessie knew it was now or never.

"It's me. I-it's my body. And I've been terrified that you won't accept me," she stammered through, hands to her chest as her gaze remained rooted to the floor. Her lips parted and her shoulders rose and fell as her breathing began to quicken. She swallowed and found the courage to look up at you to see a scrutinizing, but perplexed expression on your face.

"I'm not like you," Jessie said softly, "or most girls. Physically." She held your gaze for a second, to let you begin to process, but to give her time to think as well. She could see you were confused, but you waited quietly for her to go on. "I-I," she started, before stopping to take a steadying breath, her shoulders relaxing as she did so. "I've always been different."

She was slow to proceed and you spoke tentatively, all accusations and harshness now gone.

"What do you mean? How so?"

Jessie swallowed, eyes transfixed on the floor once more. She scratched at the back of her neck so harshly that it hurt.

"The reason I can't be physical with you is because what you would see, and feel," she looked up at you as she exhaled, "isn't what you would expect." She studied you as you processed her words. "That's why I asked you if you'd slept with guys," she finished timidly, embarrassment and shame creeping in despite her efforts.

Your mouth fell open to speak, but nothing came out. You frowned and visibly struggled with what to say next. Jessie's mouth was dry, but she had to take the next step.

"Even though I'm a girl, I have...what a guy has," she said quietly.

Your mouth opened wider to speak, but still nothing came out. You held up a poised finger, cuing her to wait. Eventually you found your words. Jessie held your gaze despite how difficult it was.

"Are you telling me that you have...," you trailed off, your gaze settling on her crotch momentarily before looking up at her, a tinge of pink already on your cheeks, "...a cock?"

Jessie released a slow, shuddering breath through her nose as she continued to hold your gaze. She nodded.

"Yes."

She saw your eyebrows raise as you looked away and her words and emotions just came out in a torrent.

"So if you think I've been struggling, you're right, but that's why," she said bitterly, tears in her eyes already. "It really had nothing to do with you. You've been so perfect. And it's been killing me to lie to you. And to hurt you. But I've been so scared - and I just," she took a shaky breath, "I know I'm not what you signed up for. You didn't deserve any of this, but I was being selfish. I wanted you. And I didn't want to risk losing you, so I just kept lying and the longer I waited, the more impossible it felt to tell you." Jessie's voice broke and she wiped her nose before pulling her arms in tightly against herself.

"And in the end I fucked it all up. And I hate myself for hurting you the way I have. Hearing how I...," she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at you before clenching her jaw tightly. "Hurting you is probably the worst thing I've ever done." Her voice grew high as she fought through her emotions. "And I don't deserve your forgiveness. I would gladly take it, but I know I don't deserve it. You deserve far better than someone who would hurt someone they love the way I've hurt you."

Your brow furrowed as she finished and Jessie swallowed once more, clearing her throat before speaking. "I'm sorry I couldn't say it back the other night. I really wanted to." She gave you a desperate look. "I know it must seem like I have zero integrity, but, I couldn't tell you I love you without telling you," she paused, gaze falling briefly, "all of this." She looked back at you, taking in a slow breath. "I really do love you. And I want so much more for us, but I realize now that even if you were okay...with me...well, with the way I've gone about everything, I've probably ruined any chance for us."

Her face fell as more tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I just need you to know that you shouldn't feel badly about yourself, because you were never the problem. It was always me."

"This is a lot for me to process," you said slowly, thumb grazing idly along your arm. You glanced over at the couch for a moment before glancing back at her. "Um, why don't we sit down."

Jessie sniffled, overcome with surprise that you'd invite her in further. It took her a moment to comprehend it, but soon nodded eagerly. She followed you wordlessly to the couch, remaining standing as you took a seat. You looked at her expectantly before gesturing to the spot next to you.

She was mindful of the space between you. She didn't want to sit too close and inadvertently imply that things were suddenly fine. She sat stiffly, back straight, hands on the tops of her thighs as she deferred to you on how to proceed. She glanced at you in trepidation, waiting, but when you didn't say anything for several moments she spoke again.

"I completely understand that this is a lot to process," she validated with a fleeting glance. "While I've been thinking about nothing but this for months, this is all new to you."

"Yeah," you said quietly, still very much in your thoughts.

"And I want you to know that you don't owe me anything," she said. "I completely understand if this is too much for you or not what you want. No hard feelings." She almost laughed at the last statement as she sat here, congested and teary-eyed. There would be a lot of feelings, but not hard feelings. She rubbed her forehead. "And I understand if there are hard feelings towards me. I'm sorry I was such a coward. I just-" she shook her head quickly, dismissing the thought. "Never mind."

She heard you exhale gently and she peeked over at you. You were initially still, but soon shifted, surprising Jessie as you turned subtly towards her.

"Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of questions. And I still have a lot of confusing feelings and hurt. But - I meant it when I said I love you. So it's hard to see you hurting like this." You scratched at your temple before looking up at her. "Did I do something to make it harder for you to tell me?"

Jessie turned to you fully, a stern look on her face. "No," she said adamantly. "You were," she shrugged listlessly, "you really were - are - amazing. I guess I just let old fears and baggage control me."

"What do you mean?" You asked tentatively before holding up your hands and speaking quickly. "And if I ask something that's too much - just say so. I don't want to make you more uncomfortable."

Jessie frowned deeper. "You're too good for me," she said simply. "You shouldn't give a shit about whether I'm uncomfortable or not. But, let me be clear - for once - I will answer any question you have for me. Some will be easier to answer than others, but I want you to know everything. If you want. That's what I wanted all along, but I was just too scared."

"Well, if you love someone - you care about their boundaries and how they feel," you said plainly. Jessie looked at you and you looked away nervously, clearing your throat before turning back. "And. Backtracking. You...love me?"

Jessie smiled for the first time today. It was an emotional, watery, sad smile. But it was a smile. "Yes. I really do. And it's been absolute torture the past couple of days not talking to you - I know it's all my fault though."

You frowned, thoughts almost visibly churning before you set your gaze on her again.

"Wait. But I'm not your first girlfriend. So...was it like this every time?"

Jessie's posture slumped slightly at your question; more-so, the reminder it triggered. That you were the best and she'd treated you the worst.

"No. No, it hasn't been," she admitted as she picked at the fabric of her pants. "I, um, was more open before. And, uh, I guess it backfired. And I've been pretty reserved and nervous about it since."

"Oh," you said quietly, still deep in thought. "But your teammates know, right?"

"Yeah, they all do. Hard for them not to. And they're cool with it, thank God. But otherwise I keep it quiet. It doesn't seem like it, but I'm actually pretty comfortable with that aspect of myself these days. It caused a lot of angst for me for years, but I'm happy with who I am. Relationships though...that's a different matter altogether."

"I'm sorry, Jess," you said gently, pulling a confused look out of her. Again, you shouldn't be worried about her. "That sounds really difficult. That said, do you mind telling me more?"

Jessie turned to you more fully, your knees nearly brushing now. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. You were right that I was far from an open book, but I don't want to be like that anymore. I want you to know everything, if you'd like." She shrunk into herself a bit and waved a hand aimlessly. "And just because I tell you these things, it doesn't mean that I think you'll forgive me or something. I understand that, you know, things could end. But I still want you to know."

Surprise flooded Jessie's system as you took her hand and gave it the faintest squeeze, continuing to hold it after.

"Jess. It's okay. I want to know."

She mustered up a tight smile for you and squeezed your hand.

She proceeded to tell you her story. Filling the gaps she'd craftily navigated during previous conversations. The embarrassment she'd felt. The otherness. The ridicule she'd experienced over the years. The rejection. The objectification. And the eventual defeat; of feeling like no one would get her or love her the way she wanted to be loved.

By the time she finished, a new set of tears had finished falling, but what she noted most of all was how you now held her hand in both of yours.

"Baby," you said softly, as you lifted her hand and kissed it tenderly. Jessie looked at you in surprise as she sniffled.

She'd expected the worst, so when you looked at her with warmth and compassion, it caught her off-guard to not see disgust or rejection.

"I'm so sorry you were made to feel like that. You didn't deserve that at all. Some people are so fucking close-minded and terrible. I'm so sorry you had to experience that," you told her.

Her shoulders hitched as she rode out the dying waves of her emotion.

"Thanks," she managed, her voice still congested and strained. "Now you know how hypocritical and truly horrible it was of me to make you feel the way those girls made me feel."

You tilted your head slightly and gave it a slow shake. "No. It's not the same. I mean, yes, I felt terrible, but you weren't trying to hurt me. And now I can understand where you were coming from."

Jessie shook her head in return. "It doesn't make it right though. So...if you let me, I'll do everything I can to try to make it up to you and try to rebuild the trust I've broken. Totally understand if that's off the table though."

"I," you started, chest rising as you took a large breath before relaxing once more, "still love you. So...no, it's not off the table. I still have to process a lot of this and reconcile some things. And, yes, reality is you hurt me, but everything makes so much more sense now. So. Thank you. For finally telling me."

Jessie nodded. "Thank you for hearing me out."

You fidgeted slightly and she watched you carefully. You felt her eyes on you and spoke hesitantly.

"We, um. Didn't exactly address my initial issue though. I mean, I understand now why you've been so closed off and flighty. But, you know, none of this necessarily means that you, um, find me attractive. Because that could still be a problem."

Jessie gave you a disbelieving look. "Of course I find you attractive. Well, okay," she slowed herself down, "I understand why you thought I didn't. But, now that you know everything else, my attraction to you is exactly why I couldn't be remotely physical with you. It was...a bit too much for me. Let's put it that way," Jessie finished as she looked away sheepishly. When she braved a look back your face was tinged pink.

"Oh. Okay. Well..., um. That's nice to know, I guess," you responded awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. That was probably too much information," Jessie mumbled. She cleared her throat before speaking more confidently. "So, no, you have nothing - at all - to worry about there. I think the bigger question now is if you would find me attractive. Now that you know that my, um, anatomy is different."

You blushed deeper and cleared your throat as well.

"Oh. I mean, you're still you. And, I'm curious-" you held up your hands quickly in defense, eyes closing as you corrected yourself, "-not like those other girls. No. I would never use you like that." You opened your eyes once again, calming yourself. "What I mean is. I'm still interested."

Jessie felt an ember of hope flickering in her chest. You were still blushing, giving her fleeting glances until you fully faced her, now serious and prim.

"You get one more chance," you told her firmly, holding up a finger. "I know a lot will be new and there'll be things to navigate, but I won't put up with you being distant and cagey again. Do not lie to me again."

Jessie nearly beamed. She straightened up eagerly and nodded her head rapidly in agreement.

"I won't," she promised before she took a second look at you. "Are you sure you want to try again?"

Your face scrunched up adorably as you shot her a look.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" You asked, affronted.

"No," she refuted, shaking her head adamantly. "I just want to make sure this is what you truly want. I know I dumped a lot on you just now, so...you are more than welcome to take your time to think. And I definitely don't want you to feel guilty in any way."

"I don't feel guilty," you told her. "And," you exhaled quickly, "as you were telling me about all of your experiences and how you've been treated, all I could really think throughout all of it is that I wished there was some way I or someone could go back and protect you from all of that." You picked at your nails idly. "And, I don't know, that I just wanted to hold you. And kiss you." You gave her another stern look, but it was mild at best. "You're not entirely forgiven yet. But I understand you so much better now. So, I do want to try again."

That heavy, horrible ache in her chest she'd been carrying with her the past while was replaced with a sensation of warmth and lightness.

"You're the most incredible woman I've ever met," she told you unwaveringly. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to make things up to you. I'll make sure you never have a doubt about me, or you, or us, again."

"That's a bold promise," you warned with a hint of a smirk.

Jessie smiled at you undeterred. She gently cupped the side of your face and leaned in, stopping momentarily to speak before giving you a soft, slow kiss.

"And it's one I intend to keep."

A/N: Next up…smut.

Tag requests: @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp @kathleenmikaelson

[reidmarieprentiss]

Red: Part Two

Summary: Spencer is very happy with you, his new girlfriend. You two are experiencing firsts together, making each other happy as can be. But, secrets tend to unravel when you try to keep them from your loved ones. Your past haunts you everyday, Spencer knows that, and yet, he does nothing to let you into his. Falling in love is not for the weak. Neither is being forced out of it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: heartbreak, angst, talks of drug use, talks of overdose, past death of parents, sister is an addict, keeping secrets, so much angst, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, Spencer's past addiction, drug tests, protective Erin Strauss, weed, alcohol, no happy ending

Word count: 28.9k

a/n: soooo fucking sorry for this one ://// it was never going to have a happy ending ... tbh if you don't want to cry maybe just stick to the first part !! — unedited NEVER be afraid to call me out!!

can't lie i put so many projects on hold just to write this beast -- i worked on it EVERY day

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (f & m), grinding, finishing in pants (m), fingering (f), protected PinV

The entire jet was filled with a quiet buzz of curiosity as everyone watched Spencer, who was completely absorbed in his phone, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips. His eyes rolled over the screen, scanning a picture he took of you with a level of care that had the whole team captivated.

JJ finally broke the silence. “Okay, Reid,” she said with an amused grin, leaning forward in her seat. “Tell us what’s going on, or I’m taking your phone.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden attention. His cheeks flushed pink as he realized the entire team had been watching him, all waiting for an explanation. He fumbled with the phone, quickly pocketing it as if trying to hide something, but the grin on his face gave him away. 

"Uh, it’s nothing," Spencer mumbled, clearly flustered, but the team wasn’t buying it for a second.

Morgan smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, come on, Pretty Boy. This has gone on long enough. Spill."

JJ raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Prentiss. "We’ve all seen that look before, Reid."

Spencer sighed. "It’s… it’s someone I’ve been seeing," he admitted sheepishly, his eyes flicking down to his phone for a moment before looking back at the team.

The jet erupted with teasing laughter and questions, all of them delighted by the revelation.

“Well, Reid, you have to introduce us!” Emily chimed in, a playful grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy," Derek added with a teasing smirk. "When can we meet the missus?”

Spencer, for once, didn’t shy away from the idea. In fact, he felt a spark of excitement at the thought of introducing you to the team. He was proud that you were his girlfriend, and the idea of his closest friends meeting you didn’t fill him with the usual nerves. But there was one thing Spencer couldn’t deny—he knew the moment they saw the way he looked at you, they’d instantly know how deeply in love he was. 

And as much as he was ready for the team to meet you, that kind of vulnerability scared him just a little. 

He smiled softly, trying to play it cool. "I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough," he said, but inside, he was already thinking about how perfect it would be to bring you into his world.

—

“Y/N, darling,” Spencer mused with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling as he watched you across the dinner table. The warmth in his voice instantly caught your attention.

You giggled, squeezing his hand as it rested on the table, your thumb brushing against his skin. “Yes, dear?”

Spencer hesitated only for a second, his tone still light but a little more serious now. “Would you like to meet my friends?”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat at the question. A slight anxiety began to crawl up your throat, and you cleared it, trying to sound casual. “Your—um, your work friends?” you asked, though the weight of the moment hung between you.

Spencer nodded, his eyes soft and understanding, as if he could already sense your nerves. "Yeah," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand reassuringly. "The team. They’ve been dying to meet you."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The thought of meeting Spencer’s team made your heart race—not just because they were profilers, but because Rossi would likely recognize you. Maybe even Hotch. It had been years since either of them had seen you, but the possibility hung in the air. You weren’t sure if they’d bring it up, and you certainly weren’t ready to share that part of your life with Spencer. Not yet.

But then, you looked into Spencer’s eyes. The genuine excitement and pride he held for you was undeniable. It was clear he wanted this—wanted you to meet the people who were like family to him. The idea of disappointing him tugged at you, and despite the nerves gnawing at your chest, you couldn’t help but smile softly.

He reached across the table, gently squeezing your other hand too, offering comfort in that simple gesture. His eyes searched yours for a moment, as if sensing something in your hesitation but choosing to let it pass, trusting you to open up when you were ready.

The thought of Spencer’s trust in you helped calm some of the swirling anxiety. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to push aside the weight of your past for now.

You took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. "I’d love to meet them," you said, though you could still feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up. “You’re going to love them,” he assured you, his voice full of warmth. “And they’re going to love you too."

Later that evening, Spencer’s fingers traced gentle circles along your back, his touch soothing as you lay against his chest, both of you perfectly relaxed. The quiet of the evening had settled around you, a comfortable silence, until Spencer broke it with a question that caught you off guard.

“Do you have a job?” he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden bluntness of the question. “What?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he quickly realized how it sounded. “I mean,” he corrected, his voice softer, “you never talk about work, and I—I’ve never seen you go to work. Do you work?”

You smiled, lifting your chin from his chest so you could look up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Yes, I have a job, Spencer.”

He looked down at you with his brows raised, making his chin tuck in a way that was so adorably endearing you had to fight the urge to kiss him right there. “Well, do tell, baby.”

The way he said "baby" sent a rush through you, making your heart skip and your core tighten. The new pet name caught you by surprise, and you could feel your pulse quicken. You wanted to answer his question, but something inside you hesitated. The job you had wasn’t something you brought up often, and certainly not something that most people would take lightly.

You bit your lip, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Spencer's chest as you considered your answer. “What if you think differently of me?” you teased, giving him a playful look.

Spencer chuckled softly, catching onto your teasing tone. “Depends on how you answer,” he joked back, his eyes twinkling. “But no, I would never judge you.”

You sighed dramatically, feigning annoyance. “Okay… fine,” you said, pausing for effect. “I’m a cybersecurity analyst. I just work from home.”

Spencer's face lit up with curiosity. “A cybersecurity analyst? That’s amazing,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrugged, still grinning at how smoothly it had gone. “It’s not that exciting,” you replied, feeling relieved that you could finally share a bit of your work with him. "I just stare at a screen all day."

Spencer shook his head, a genuine smile on his face. “I think it's fascinating. But I guess you're right, staring at a screen is definitely something I can relate to." His fingers resumed their gentle strokes along your back, his gaze warm.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” you said softly, your fingers still tracing patterns on his chest. “I just don’t have that much to talk about. I don’t interact with anyone all day long.”

Spencer smiled, his eyes full of understanding. “It’s okay, Red,” he said, stroking his finger gently down the bridge of your nose in a soothing gesture. “You know, my friend Penelope does something similar.”

“Really?” you perked up, excitement bubbling up at the thought of having something in common with someone in Spencer’s world. Your aunt had never mentioned anyone named Penelope before, but this new information intrigued you. “What does she do?”

“She’s a technical analyst for the BAU,” Spencer explained, a fondness creeping into his tone as he spoke about Penelope. “She handles all the tech and cyber stuff for us—tracking data, finding digital footprints, that sort of thing.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of her role. “That sounds so cool! Maybe we could exchange tips,” you laughed, already imagining the kind of work Penelope must be involved in.

“I’m so glad you want to meet them,” Spencer said softly, his voice full of relief and excitement. He breathed deeply, the rise and fall of his chest gently lifting you with each inhale. His hand stroked your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles as he looked at you with warmth and affection. “You mean so much to me,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was letting you in on a secret. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. Spencer, who was usually so careful with his emotions, was being completely vulnerable with you now. It made your connection feel even deeper, like you were sharing something truly special.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly, your lips brushing his. “I can’t wait either,” you whispered against his mouth, feeling more at ease about meeting his team.

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head, still in disbelief at how elated he felt. The emotions swirling in his chest were too much to hold back, and before either of you could say another word, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a deep, tender kiss, full of all the feelings he hadn’t yet put into words.

The kiss was different this time—more intense, more meaningful. You could feel the depth of Spencer's emotions through the way his hands gently cupped your face, the way he kissed you like he was afraid to ever let you go. It wasn’t just desire, but something deeper, something sweeter, like the connection between you both had finally settled into something undeniable.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft curls as you kissed him back just as deeply, wanting him to feel how much you cared too. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

When Spencer finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at you with such affection that your heart skipped a beat. "I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before," he admitted softly, his voice full of awe. 

You smiled, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek. "Me neither," you whispered back, and in that moment, everything felt right. 

—

Hotch stood across from Erin Strauss, her expression cold and unforgiving as she paced behind her desk. Her gaze was sharp, and Hotch could already tell where the conversation was headed. 

“I’ve reviewed Agent Reid’s file,” Strauss said abruptly, her voice laced with disdain. She stopped pacing and folded her arms. “His performance has been... inconsistent, to say the least. And given his past—” She let the sentence hang, as though expecting Hotch to fill in the blanks.

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression impassive. “Reid is one of the best agents I have. His mind is invaluable to this team.”

Strauss’s eyes narrowed, dismissing his defense with a wave of her hand. “That’s not enough to excuse what he’s been through. His history with drugs, Hotch. We can't ignore it.”

“He’s been clean for years,” Hotch stated firmly, his voice steady though his frustration was clear. “Reid has worked harder than anyone to get past that.”

Strauss leaned forward, her fingers tapping the desk. “I’m not here to argue his work ethic. I’m here because I’m questioning whether Agent Reid can continue to perform in the field without becoming a liability.”

Hotch felt a surge of anger but swallowed it back. “He hasn’t shown any signs of relapse.”

“Not yet,” Strauss shot back. “But the risk is always there. And we can’t afford risks like him, not in a unit as high profile as the BAU.”

Hotch crossed his arms, his posture firm. “He’s earned his place. Whatever you’re insinuating—”

“I’m not insinuating,” she cut him off, her voice icy. “I’m telling you how this is going to go. From now on, Reid will be subjected to mandatory drug tests. Monthly.” She emphasized the last word, her expression hard. “If there are any slip-ups, any signs of relapse, even the faintest suspicion, he’s out.”

Hotch’s gaze darkened. “That’s unnecessary.”

Strauss tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk, her icy demeanor unwavering as she continued to challenge Hotch. “You’re defending him again,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing. “Just like you always do. Every time Reid’s decision-making is called into question, it’s you who steps in to justify it. How many times has he put the team at risk with his recklessness, his… emotional judgments? And every time, you shield him.”

Hotch held her gaze, his face impassive though his patience was wearing thin. “Reid’s decisions are not reckless. He’s a profiler, just like the rest of us. Sometimes we have to make judgment calls, and Reid—despite his past, despite his personal struggles—makes the right ones more often than not.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, folding her arms, her expression one of disbelief. “Judgment calls? That’s your defense? We can’t afford judgment calls, Aaron. Not when we’re dealing with murderers, terrorists, and serial predators. Reid’s personal issues cloud his judgment, and that makes him a risk.”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice firm but calm. “We work in the field. Every agent makes judgment calls—myself included. We don’t always have the luxury of time or all the facts laid out perfectly for us. Reid has an exceptional mind, and when he’s under pressure, he performs. Yes, he’s made mistakes, but so have all of us. He’s saved more lives than I can count.”

Strauss’ eyes flashed with irritation. “But his mistakes could have cost lives, Aaron. And you know that. How many times has he hesitated, overthought, or even worse, let his emotions dictate his actions? You’ve had to justify his choices to me and other superiors more times than you should have.”

Hotch’s face remained unreadable, but his voice grew harder. “I justify his decisions because they are the right ones. When you’re in the field, in a life-or-death situation, you need someone like Reid—a man who can think faster than anyone else in the room. His ability to process information, to read people, is unmatched.”

Strauss shook her head, her frustration boiling over. “You call it unmatched. I call it unstable. His mind may be brilliant, but it’s fragile. You can’t deny that. And you can’t keep making excuses for him. This is a dangerous game, and the stakes are too high for mistakes.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not unstable. He’s human. Every member of this team has had to make decisions under pressure, sometimes with incomplete information, and Reid is no different.”

“But he is different,” Strauss countered, her voice cutting through the room. “He’s the one who’s been to rehab. He’s the one who struggles with dependency. And let’s not forget the mental strain he’s been under for years. The rest of your team—Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi—they’re reliable. Reid, on the other hand, is unpredictable.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “He’s faced more than most of us could handle, and he’s come out the other side stronger. I trust him with my life, and so does the team.”

Strauss leaned forward, her gaze cold. “I don’t. And that’s why this is non-negotiable, Hotch. Monthly drug tests. If he slips, if there’s even a hint of a problem, he’s out. I will not tolerate another incident where I have to clean up his mess because you think his ‘judgment calls’ are excusable.”

Hotch stared at her for a long moment, the tension palpable. “And what happens when you push him out and lose one of the best agents this Bureau has ever had?”

Strauss didn’t blink. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The silence hung heavy between them, and Hotch realized no amount of reasoning would sway her.

Hotch left Strauss’s office, the tension from their conversation still lingering in the back of his mind. He didn’t like this any more than Spencer would, but Strauss had made her decision, and now it was up to him to break the news. The whole situation felt like a slap in the face to Spencer’s progress, and Hotch knew the young agent wouldn’t take it well.

Hotch found Spencer in the bullpen, hunched over some files, lost in thought. The usual furrow of concentration on his brow lifted as he glanced up and saw Hotch approaching.

"Hey, Hotch," Spencer greeted with a faint smile, but Hotch could see the weariness behind it. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he sat down across from him.

"Spencer, we need to talk," Hotch said, his tone more serious than usual.

Spencer’s smile faded, replaced by a look of curiosity, then mild concern. "What’s going on?"

Hotch exhaled, running a hand over his face before speaking. "Strauss is implementing new protocols. Effective immediately, you’ll be subjected to monthly drug tests."

Spencer blinked, his expression falling into confusion. "What? Why now? I haven’t used in four years, Hotch. I thought all of that was behind us."

Hotch leaned forward, his voice calm but steady. "I know, and I’ve made that clear to her. You’ve been clean for years, and we all see the progress you’ve made. But Strauss doesn’t trust that your addiction won’t resurface. She’s convinced that you're still a liability."

Spencer’s face twisted in frustration, and his hands fidgeted on the desk in front of him. He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I don’t understand. I’ve done everything right. I’ve proven myself. Why does she still think I’m going to screw up?"

Hotch looked at him sympathetically. "This isn’t about you, Spencer. It’s about Strauss’s own perception."

Spencer clenched his fists, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "I thought… I thought we were past all of that. Four years clean, Hotch. Four years. And she still sees me as a ticking time bomb."

Hotch’s gaze softened. "I know it’s unfair, and I wish I could change it. But Strauss has the power to enforce this protocol. I fought for you, Spencer. I’ll always fight for you. But this is one battle I couldn’t win."

Spencer leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he processed the information. The frustration and hurt in his eyes were evident. "Why does she hate me so much?" he muttered, more to himself than to Hotch. "Why am I always the one who has to prove myself over and over again?"

Hotch didn’t have an answer for that. Strauss’s animosity toward Spencer had always been unwarranted, and no matter how hard Spencer worked, it seemed she would never let go of the past.

"You’re not alone in this," Hotch said quietly, his voice firm. "The team knows how far you’ve come. We trust you. And we’ll make sure this doesn’t interfere with your work."

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was still etched on his face. "I just don’t get it. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do. Why can’t she see that?"

Hotch reached across the desk, resting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. "Because people like Strauss only see the risks, not the person. But we see you, Spencer. Don’t let her take that away from you."

Spencer offered a small, grateful smile, though the frustration still lingered in his eyes. He had been through enough, and this just felt like one more hurdle to jump.

As Hotch walked away, Spencer sat there, staring at the papers in front of him. He had thought the worst was behind him—that his addiction, his past struggles, were finally over. But now, with Strauss breathing down his neck, it felt like he was back at square one. And no matter how hard he worked, how far he came, there was always someone like Strauss, waiting to drag him back down.

—

“Spencer!” you screeched from your bedroom, the urgency in your voice sending Spencer into an instant state of panic. He rushed in, his mind racing, worried something terrible had happened.

But when he burst through the door, what greeted him was not a disaster—well, not the kind he had imagined. You were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by heaps of clothes, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. The sight made him chuckle, though he was also slightly flustered, his cheeks tinged pink at the sight of you in so little.

“What’s up, Red?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite how his heart raced.

You looked up at him, pouting, clearly distressed. Spencer, in his cozy sweatpants and hoodie, looked perfectly at ease while you were caught in a whirlwind of indecision. “I don’t know what to wear tonight,” you groaned, gesturing helplessly at the mountain of clothes surrounding you.

Spencer chuckled again, stepping further into the room. “Y/N, we’re not even meeting them for…” he checked his watch and raised his brow, “five hours!”

“I knowww,” you whined, your voice petulant as you flopped back dramatically onto the floor. “But I want to make a good impression.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how adorably worked up you were. He crouched down beside you, his eyes warm as he gazed at your scattered wardrobe. “You could show up in a garbage bag, and they’d still love you,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Trust me, you don’t need to stress.”

You sighed, sitting back up and grabbing a blouse. “Easy for you to say,” you mumbled, holding the shirt up. “You look good in everything.”

Spencer laughed softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek before leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. And honestly, they’re just excited to meet the person who’s made me so happy.” 

You looked up at him, his words warming your heart. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

Spencer smiled. “That’s what you keep telling me.” He glanced down at the pile of clothes again. “Now, let’s figure out what outfit makes you feel as amazing as you are.”

After a lot of playful back and forth, Spencer finally helped you choose an outfit, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have the sweetest man alive by your side. You stood in your room, back in your bra and underwear, having set out the outfit for later, a black dress with red tights, duh. As you got ready, your heart swelled with affection for him—your boyfriend, the man who already seemed to know how to calm your nerves.

Standing in front of him, you ran your hands up Spencer’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the soft fabric of his hoodie. With a teasing smile, you tugged gently on the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer. “Can I show you how much I appreciate you, handsome?” you whispered, your voice playful but filled with sincerity.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He was always so adorably flustered when you teased him like this. But he smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his hands resting on your waist. “You already do,” he murmured against your lips, but there was no mistaking the way his breath hitched, betraying just how much he wanted you.

“Mm, but I want to really show you,” you breathed softly, your hands dropping to the waistband of Spencer’s sweats. His breath hitched immediately at the sensation of your fingers lightly teasing beneath the fabric, brushing against the coarse hair below.

“Wh—what did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep his composure.

You smiled up at him, letting your fingers explore just a little, before you slowly began lowering yourself to your knees. “Well… I could tell you,” you said playfully, your voice dropping to a whisper, “or I could show you.”

Spencer’s breathing became ragged, his chest rising and falling with heaving breaths as he tried to process what was happening. “Oh my god, uh…” he stammered, clearly caught off guard by the sudden intensity.

You firmly grasped the waistband of his sweats then, looking up at him for permission. “Can I?” you asked gently, always making sure he was comfortable.

Spencer didn’t respond right away. His voice was quiet, almost apologetic as he confessed, “I’ve never—no one has…”

You immediately understood, pulling your hands back gently. “Oh baby, we don’t have to,” you said softly, standing up and placing a reassuring hand on his cheek.

Spencer looked at you with gratitude and an apology in his eyes. “Maybe later?” he offered, his tone tentative but sincere. “We… we need to get ready.”

You smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Of course,” you whispered. There was no need to push or rush anything. You had plenty of time, and you’d always respect his boundaries.

Later, after you and Spencer had finished getting ready, you couldn’t help but feel a bit pent up. Spencer looked good earlier, but now? Now, he looked downright irresistible. His button-down shirt paired with a checkered sweater vest, and those slacks—hugging him just right—had you practically drooling. But with Spencer’s earlier discomfort, you held your tongue, not wanting to push things too soon. 

After a quick kiss and a quiet pep talk, the two of you were outside, hailing a cab to meet his team at the bar. Your nerves were still buzzing. You were excited for Spencer, but the thought of someone recognizing you, of someone saying something, kept you on edge. You wanted to be the best partner to him, especially with how proud he was to introduce you to everyone.

As you approached the table, your nerves flared even more, but you plastered on a confident smile. Sitting around the table were Derek, Emily, JJ, and Penelope, all of whom greeted you warmly, each with their own playful digs at Spencer.

“Well, well,” Derek grinned, leaning back in his chair as he gave Spencer a once-over. “Pretty Boy wasn’t kidding when he said he was smitten.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, smirking as she gave you a friendly once-over. “Wow, Reid. No wonder you’ve been so secretive. I would’ve kept this hidden too.”

JJ nudged Penelope, who had stars in her eyes. “I’m so happy you’re real!” Penelope practically squealed. “I thought for sure Spencer was making you up.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, laughing, as he proudly introduced you to his team, visibly glowing from how much they seemed to like you right off the bat.

You smiled, feeling more at ease, though still a bit on edge as you scanned the room. No sign of Hotch or Rossi—thank god, you thought, allowing yourself a moment to relax.

But just as you were about to take a seat, you heard it—the unmistakable voice from behind you. “Reid, is this your lady?” Rossi’s voice carried through the bar, calm and curious.

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you turned, your breath catching in your throat. As your eyes met Rossi’s, you immediately saw it—the flicker of recognition. Then, as you glanced at Hotch standing next to him, it was unmistakable. They both recognized you.

Your heart pounded as you pleaded with your eyes, hoping Rossi would get the message. Please, don’t say anything.

Spencer, none the wiser, smiled brightly as he introduced you. “Yes! Rossi, Hotch—this is Y/N.”

You extended your hand, swallowing your nerves as you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Rossi took your hand, his grip warm and familiar as he gave you a knowing look. But instead of saying anything, he squeezed your hand gently and winked. "The pleasure is all mine," he said smoothly, his voice betraying nothing.

You breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that for now, your secret was safe.

Hotch nodded politely, his expression neutral but his eyes scanning you, clearly making a mental note of the situation. But just like Rossi, he remained silent on the matter.

Spencer, completely oblivious, continued chatting with the group, beaming with pride as he showed you off to the people who mattered most to him. You smiled along, feeling the weight lift slightly, knowing that at least for now, your past could stay buried.

As the drinks flowed and the night progressed, you found yourself thoroughly enjoying the company of Spencer’s team. They were warm, welcoming, and great fun to be around, making it easier for you to relax. Even Hotch and Rossi, after the initial awkwardness, had lightened up, joining in the laughter and the storytelling.

It was a blast hearing them tease Spencer, recounting funny case stories and little moments from their years together. You were especially enjoying the bond you were forming with Penelope, both of you gushing over your shared love for tech and quickly finding an easy rhythm with one another. You felt like you’d made an instant friend.

But with every sip of your drink, your attention kept drifting back to Spencer. He just looked so good, sitting there, his eyes a little hooded from the alcohol, his jaw clenching as he excitedly explained some complex theory to Emily. His hands moved with purpose, fingers waving as he passionately discussed whatever topic he was on. The sight of him like that—so animated, so him—had desire steadily building in the pit of your stomach.

You bit your lip, watching him for a moment before giving in to temptation. Slowly, you slid your hand onto his thigh under the table, your fingers curling around him firmly. Spencer jolted slightly, his conversation with Emily stuttering as he tried to refocus.

He coughed lightly, glancing at you with wide eyes before quickly turning back to Emily, pretending to concentrate on the conversation while clearly trying to ignore your wandering hand.

But you weren’t making it easy for him. You smirked slightly, your thumb stroking slow circles against his thigh, inching closer. You could see the tension in his posture, how he was trying desperately to maintain his composure while you toyed with him.

Spencer stammered again, shooting you a look that was half warning, half pleading, but he couldn’t stop the flush creeping up his neck. His jaw tightened, and he shifted slightly in his seat, clearly struggling to keep it together as your touch continued to drive him wild beneath the table.

Spencer was briefly rescued by an unsung hero—Rossi.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Rossi announced, his tone casual as he looked in your direction. “Y/N, yours is looking light. Care to come with?” The look he gave you left no room for arguing. It was more of a command than an offer.

You nodded and stood, following him to the bar, your heart pounding. Once you were there, away from the laughter and teasing at the table, Rossi’s expression shifted. The warmth he usually radiated had cooled into something far more serious, almost stern.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Rossi asked, cutting straight to the point.

You sighed, leaning against the bar. “Not yet.”

Rossi’s glare was sharp, filled with concern rather than judgment. “You need to tell him, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a weight to his words you couldn’t brush off. “Come on, David. It’s not like it’s life or death.”

“No, it’s not,” Rossi agreed, his voice calm but firm. “But it’s going to matter to him. Especially now that you know. The longer you wait, the worse it gets.”

You hated how right he was. You hated that every day you kept this secret, the weight of it grew heavier. “I know,” you admitted, the frustration clear in your voice. “But what if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What if it changes everything?”

Rossi’s expression softened slightly, his sternness giving way to understanding. “Spencer isn’t like that,” he said quietly. “But he values honesty. Keeping this from him… it’ll hurt him more than the truth ever will. If he finds out later, he’ll feel betrayed. And you don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head, staring down at the drink the bartender had just handed you. “No, I don’t.”

Rossi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I know it’s scary,” he said softly. “But trust me—Spencer cares about you. He’ll understand. You just have to give him the chance to.”

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as the weight of the conversation settled in. You knew what you had to do, but the thought of it still sent a nervous chill down your spine.

Rossi gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Better sooner than later, kiddo.” Then, with a wink, he turned to head back to the table, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. 

When you returned to Spencer’s side, he didn’t even notice that you hadn’t come back with a drink. Instead, he smiled brightly and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The warmth of his body instantly soothed you, but the mistake became apparent as soon as you breathed in his scent—clean, warm, and undeniably Spencer. The hunger inside you flared up tenfold, and you had to fight to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory.

Derek, of course, seized the moment, grinning mischievously from across the table. “Did Spencer tell you about the time a famous actress kissed him?”

Your eyebrows shot up, intrigued but also curious to see Spencer’s reaction. “What?” you asked with a teasing smile, nudging Spencer lightly. “No, he conveniently left that part out.”

Spencer flushed instantly, his arm tightening slightly around you as he groaned. “Oh god, not this story,” he muttered, glaring at Derek.

“Oh, come on, Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re basically a celebrity yourself for that one.”

You looked up at Spencer, eyes wide with curiosity. “I have to hear this,” you said, trying to keep the playful edge in your voice despite how distracted you felt by his proximity.

Spencer sighed, clearly embarrassed. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said quickly, as if trying to brush it off.

Derek scoffed, shaking his head as if Spencer’s modesty was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all night. “Not a big deal? Reid here was pulled into a swimming pool. She basically mounted him.”

You laughed, eyes widening in disbelief. “What?!”

Spencer buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in defeat, while Derek grinned like the cat that got the cream. "Yep, and the best part? The paparazzi caught the whole thing."

“There are pictures on the internet!” Penelope chimed in cheerfully, as if offering you a goldmine of information. "I saved them to my phone!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your curiosity piqued even more. “Oh, I have to see these.”

Spencer groaned, leaning back in his seat, his face flushed red. “Please don’t encourage them,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

Derek leaned forward, enjoying every moment of Spencer’s discomfort. “Oh no, Y/N, you definitely need to look it up. It’s a classic ‘Reid in over his head’ moment. He’s all wet, confused, and awkward—it’s priceless.”

Penelope nodded eagerly. “He tried to escape, but the actress wouldn’t let him go. She had him trapped!”

You were laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “Oh my god, Spencer,” you giggled, leaning against him. “How did I not know about this sooner?”

Spencer, though clearly embarrassed, finally cracked a smile. “I didn’t think it was relevant,” he mumbled, shooting Derek and Penelope a half-hearted glare.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Derek teased. “Don’t let him fool you, Y/N. She was all over him.”

You giggled, poking Spencer’s side playfully. “Why do I feel like I’m going to need more details later?”

Spencer groaned again, but there was a small, sheepish smile on his face as he squeezed your shoulder. “We’ll talk about it… eventually,” he muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into him again, the tension from earlier melting away slightly as you enjoyed the moment with him and his team. For now, the weight of your secret could wait just a little longer.

The group finally decided to call it a night, but you were buzzing with excitement, eager to get Spencer alone—all to yourself. Both of you had stopped drinking hours ago, switching to water to avoid any hangovers, but the anticipation had been steadily building. 

As soon as you climbed into the back of a cab together, your hand instinctively returned to Spencer’s thigh, your fingers squeezing appreciatively as they traced the thick muscle. You weren't planning on doing anything more, especially in public, but the closeness only fueled the fire inside you.

The cab ride felt longer than usual, the tension simmering between you two in the dim light of the backseat. Spencer seemed to notice it too, his eyes meeting yours in silent understanding. 

But once you had Spencer inside your front door, all restraint vanished. You pushed him against a bare wall with urgency, your hands gripping his lithe waist as your lips found his neck, planting hot, hungry kisses along his skin.

"Y/N?" Spencer gasped, his voice strained with both surprise and desire. His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his pulse. "What’s gotten into you?"

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the taste of his skin and the way his body responded to every touch. Instead, you kissed your way up to his mouth, pressing yourself against him. Between breaths, you mumbled against his lips, “Hopefully you.”

Spencer let out a low groan, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m not sure I can resist you right now,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, already losing the battle against the pull you had over him.

You grinned against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as the kiss deepened, the heat between you both simmering to a near-boiling point. “Please don’t resist,” you whispered against his lips, your voice low and filled with need. “You looked so fucking hot tonight.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, and before he could respond, you dropped to your knees in front of him, your hand pressing against the growing hardness in his slacks. The pressure of your touch made him buck his hips forward instinctively, his eyes widening as the sensation shot through him.

“Is this okay now?” you asked, your voice breathy with desire as you looked up at him, your hand still teasing him through the fabric. “Please, Spencer. Please, I need to taste you.”

His mind raced, a jumble of thoughts and emotions, but all of them led to the same conclusion—how could he say no when you asked him like that, when the hunger in your eyes matched his own? He nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to form proper words, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

As your fingers deftly worked to undo his belt and the button of his slacks, Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands bracing against the wall behind him for support. He was already losing himself to the intensity of the moment, the anticipation building with every second.

Spencer swallowed hard, his nerves apparent as he shifted slightly under your touch. “What, um, what do I do?” he asked nervously, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

You smiled up at him like a vixen, your lips brushing over the now-exposed skin of his thighs, teasingly close to where he wanted you most. His breath hitched as you nosed along the front of his briefs, the friction sending a shudder through him that made him whimper.

Sticking your tongue out, you traced him through the fabric, feeling the heat radiating through it, and looked up at him with playful intent. “Try not to make me gag,” you teased, your voice low and sultry. “Pull my hair if you like… and let me know when you’re going to come.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, the tension and excitement evident in his expression. His grip on the wall tightened as he nodded, trying to follow your instructions, but the way you spoke and the feeling of your tongue against him had him unraveling already.

The moment was intoxicating, your playful control over him leaving him helpless as he tried to hold it together. Every touch, every word, was pushing him closer to the edge, and he could hardly believe this was happening.

As you pulled off the last barrier, Spencer’s briefs sliding down, you couldn’t help but grin like you’d just unwrapped the most perfect present. You’d seen him naked before, but this was different—having his hard cock right in front of you, so close, filled you with an intoxicating sense of control and desire. 

You licked your lips, savoring the moment, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his head, tasting him for the first time. Spencer’s breath hitched, his back instinctively pulling away from the wall as a wave of sensation coursed through him. His hands found their way into your hair, his grip hesitant at first but growing more confident as the pleasure built.

When you finally wrapped your lips around him, Spencer’s entire body reacted, his hands tugging at your hair, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. He was already a mess, and you’d barely begun.

Pulling back for just a moment, you looked up at him with a wicked glint in your eyes and whispered, “Good boy.”

The praise hit him like a freight train, his hips bucking slightly as he let out a pathetic, needy whimper in response. He was completely at your mercy, lost in the sensation, and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. Every touch, every word from you was pushing him further under, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, completely overwhelmed by you.

You leaned back in, taking him into your mouth again, more confident now that you’d seen his reactions. Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair as his body arched, his control slowly unraveling with each passing second. You could feel the tension building in him, hear the way his breath quickened, shaky and unsteady, as he tried to hold back.

Every movement you made seemed to push him further toward the edge. The way you hollowed your cheeks, the small flicks of your tongue, the pressure—everything was driving him wild. His hips bucked involuntarily, but you were ready for it, holding him steady as you took him deeper.

“Y/N…” he gasped, barely able to find his voice. His breathing was ragged now, and he was doing everything he could to hold on. “I’m close…”

You hummed around him in response, the vibrations almost sending him over the edge. He tightened his grip in your hair, his hips stuttering as he let out a broken moan, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

“God, darling…” Spencer whimpered, his voice barely a whisper as he prepared to ride out the waves of pleasure, his head falling back against the wall. 

Spencer’s breath hitched as you pulled back suddenly, leaving him teetering on the edge without release. His body betrayed him, a desperate whine escaping his lips as he thrashed lightly against the wall, trying to chase the pleasure you’d just denied him. 

You placed a firm hand on his hip, grounding him, while your other hand came up to stroke him slowly, teasingly. "Over so soon, baby?" you asked, your voice laced with amusement, watching his reactions closely. 

“I’m—” he hiccuped, barely able to get the words out, “I’m sorry, it just feels so good.”

You arched an eyebrow, teasing him further. “Thought you weren’t a virgin, Spence?”

His face flushed deep red, his breath ragged and uneven as he struggled to focus. “I’m n—not,” he stammered, his words tumbling over themselves as he tried to speak while your hand brought him back to the brink. “Just hav—ah—haven’t had this before.”

Your strokes were slow and deliberate, torturous in the best way, and you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his tip. “Is it too much for you?” you whispered softly, your voice low and seductive.

Spencer shook his head frantically, biting his lip as he tried to hold back. “No… no, I—I don’t want you to stop,” he gasped, his hands instinctively gripping your hair tighter, his fingers digging into your scalp as he tried to anchor himself. “Please…”

You smiled at his response, watching as he lost himself to the sensations, barely able to hold on as you continued to push him further. “Good,” you murmured, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

Spencer's entire body was trembling under your touch, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as you continued to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. His head was thrown back against the wall, his chest heaving with the effort it took to hold himself together.

You smirked, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed, completely at your mercy. His desperation was palpable, and it made you want to push him further—to see just how much he could take.

“You look so good like this,” you whispered, your voice filled with both praise and desire. “Completely undone for me.”

Spencer’s hips jerked slightly in response, and he whimpered again, barely able to form words as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “Y/N, please,” he gasped, his voice shaky. “I—I can’t—”

You leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his hip, kissing and biting lightly as you kept your hand moving at a torturous pace. “What do you want, Spence?” you asked softly, your breath warm against his skin.

Spencer’s voice broke as he whimpered, his words nearly a plea. “You—your mouth, please,” he begged, his body trembling, the desperation in his tone unmistakable. He was so close to the edge, and you could tell he was barely holding himself together.

You smiled softly, relishing the power you had over him in this moment. “Okay, baby,” you whispered, your voice laced with both affection and desire. “You’ve been so good for me… you can have whatever you want.”

Without wasting another moment, and your hand still gently stroking him, you placed a soft kiss on his tip. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as his entire body shuddered in anticipation. His hands tightened in your hair again after losing their grip, and you could feel how tightly he was holding on, as if letting go would make him lose control completely.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth, savoring the salty taste and the way his body reacted immediately. Spencer’s head fell back against the wall, a strangled moan escaping his lips as his hips instinctively pushed forward, gagging you.

“You’re so good,” he gasped, his voice breathless as he struggled to keep his composure. “So, so good…”

The praise only made you work harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, determined to give him exactly what he asked for. Spencer’s body trembled under your touch, and you could feel the tension building rapidly, his breaths becoming shorter and more erratic with each passing second.

“Y/N, I—” he managed to choke out, his hands tightening in your hair. “I’m gonna—”

You didn’t pull away this time. You kept going, your pace quickening and your other hand cupping his balls as you brought him right to the edge, determined to take him all the way.

And then, with a final, desperate moan, Spencer came undone completely, his body trembling as he released into your mouth, his grip on your hair tightening for a moment before he released it completely collapsed back against the wall, utterly spent.

You pulled away slowly, wiping the corner of your mouth with a smirk as you looked up at him. Spencer’s chest was still heaving, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, a blissful smile tugging at his lips.

But then Spencer’s eyes widened in panic, and his face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—to… in your mouth!”

You giggled, your mouth still full, shaking your head affectionately at his reaction. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you stuck out your tongue to show him exactly what he had done. Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, his breath hitching as he took in the sight.

He felt lightheaded, especially when you casually closed your mouth and, in one smooth motion, swallowed. “Jesus,” he breathed, his voice barely audible, the raw intensity of the moment catching up to him.

You grinned wickedly. “Just me, baby,” you winked, laughing as you stood up on slightly wobbly legs, your body still buzzing with the energy of the moment.

Before you could stumble, Spencer’s hands reached out to catch you, steadying you against him. “Whoa, careful, Bambi,” he teased, his voice finally regaining some steadiness.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at his comment, your smile still bright. “I could say the same,” you said, your gaze flicking downward where the hardness of him was pressing into your stomach. “Or should I call you Pinocchio? Again, Spence, really?"

Spencer’s face flushed again, and he laughed awkwardly, his hands tightening around your waist. “I—uh—yeah, sorry about that. It’s just…” he trailed off, looking sheepish as he tried to explain. “You’re kind of… really hot.”

You laughed softly, kissing Spencer sweetly on the lips. But just as you pulled away, Spencer abruptly jerked back, his eyes wide with alarm. “What?” you asked, confused by his sudden reaction.

“You have—me! In your mouth!” he sputtered, looking completely flustered.

You tilted your head, amused by his innocence. “Does that gross you out?” you teased. “Because I think you taste good.”

Spencer flushed even more, which you didn’t think was possible at this point. He stammered, his words tripping over themselves. “I don’t... I don’t know. I’ve just... never thought about it.”

You smiled playfully, shrugging as you turned and sighed dramatically. “Well, you don’t have to kiss me right now, Spence... I guess I’ll just go to bed alone.” Letting your dress fall provocatively from your shoulder, you made your way toward the bedroom, your steps slow and intentional.

Spencer’s mind raced, catching up with the teasing tone in your voice. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized what you were implying. Without hesitation, he scrambled to pull his briefs and pants back up, fastening them quickly before running after you.

“Wait!” he called out, his voice filled with urgency as he reached out to grab your hand, stopping you just before you could disappear into the bedroom.

You turned to face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. “Changed your mind?” you asked, your lips curving into a slow smile.

Spencer, still catching his breath, nodded quickly. “I—I’m not letting you go to bed alone,” he said, his voice a mix of determination and longing. “I want to be with you.”

You smiled warmly, pulling him close. “Good answer, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his in a deep, slow kiss, letting him feel how much you wanted him too.

That night, however, the two of you decided to take it slow and just go to bed. You could tell Spencer had done enough exploring for one day, and there was no need to push him further. After all, the night had already been filled with its own excitement.

You handed him a spare toothbrush to keep at your place, something that made Spencer smile shyly. He changed into the sweats he had borrowed earlier, and you both settled into bed, wrapping yourselves in the warmth of each other.

With Spencer nestled against your chest, his head rising and falling gently with your breathing, you kissed the top of his head and sighed contentedly. The moment felt perfect, and you were certain Spencer had already drifted off to sleep when you heard it. The words were so soft, you almost thought you were imagining them.

“I think I'm falling in love with you,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible against your skin.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, unsure if you’d actually heard it. But the warmth of his words lingered in the air, and you knew it was real. You could feel the way his body tensed slightly, like he was scared of what he’d just confessed, but you couldn’t help the wide, beaming smile that stretched across your face.

Your hand gently stroked his hair as you whispered back, “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Spencer’s body relaxed against yours, and for the first time that night, you both fell asleep with the quiet comfort of knowing you were falling in love—together.

—

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, your hand reaching out instinctively for Spencer, but finding only cool sheets. A flash of panic surged through you until you heard his voice, faint but audible, coming from down the hall. You couldn’t make out the words, but there was a tension in his tone, a heaviness that made your chest tighten.

You slipped out of bed, still groggy, and padded quietly to the door, opening it just enough to see Spencer standing in the living room. The morning sunlight bathed him in a soft, golden glow, highlighting the slump in his shoulders. He was on the phone, and even though his voice was low, you could tell he was upset.

When he heard the door creak open, he quickly wrapped up the conversation. “Hotch, I gotta go. Yeah. Bye,” he said, his tone clipped as he hung up.

You took a tentative step toward him, concern lacing your voice as you asked, “You okay?”

Spencer turned to face you, and without hesitation, he let his body fall into yours. His chin rested gently on the top of your head as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Yeah," he muttered, though you could feel the weight behind his words. "Just work stuff."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, trying to offer him the comfort he clearly needed. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly, not wanting to push but needing him to know you were there.

“Not right now,” Spencer murmured, pulling back just enough to look down at you. His smile was small but genuine, as if he was trying to reassure you that everything was fine, even if it wasn’t. “I was trying to make coffee, but I couldn’t find your grounds.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the mood just a little. “I use disposable pods, silly.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ahh, that would do it.” 

There was a moment of quiet between you as Spencer leaned back into your embrace, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. Even though he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, you knew he appreciated your presence. And for now, that was enough.

Once the coffee was made and the two of you settled into the comfortable chairs on your deck, the soft morning breeze creating a peaceful atmosphere, you knew it was time. Spencer sat beside you, sipping his coffee, lost in thought but content. The silence between you had been comforting, but there was something tugging at you now, something you needed to share.

You glanced over at him, watching how the sunlight danced across his face, and took a deep breath, feeling your heart pick up pace. Breaking the peaceful quiet, you spoke up softly, “Spencer… can I tell you something? About my past? It’s not exactly happy…”

Spencer’s attention immediately shifted to you, his eyes soft but concerned. He set his mug down on the small table beside him, turning his body slightly to face you. “Of course,” he said gently, his voice calm and reassuring. “You can tell me anything.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your coffee cup. It was hard, the idea of opening up this part of yourself, but if you wanted to move forward, to build something real with Spencer, you knew he deserved to know.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you began slowly, your voice faltering slightly. “It’s not that I’ve lied, but… there are things about my past I haven’t told you.”

Spencer’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand gently covering yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. Spencer’s hand was still resting on yours, grounding you, giving you the strength to continue.

“When I was thirteen,” you started, your voice low, “I lost both of my parents. It wasn’t... it wasn’t an accident or some freak illness. They both died from drug overdoses.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed in concern, but he didn’t say anything, giving you the space to speak.

“My father had always been an addict. I barely remember a time when he wasn’t using something. He was... abusive. Violent, unpredictable.” You swallowed hard, the memories flashing in your mind like dark clouds. “I lived with my mom most of the time. We tried to keep away from him, hiding from him really. He was dangerous, and my mom did her best to protect us.”

You paused, feeling the lump forming in your throat, but Spencer’s thumb tracing circles on your skin kept you anchored.

“One day, when I was at school, my mom was home. She had called in sick that day, just a flu or something. But somehow, my dad found her. He showed up while I was gone.” Your voice wavered, and you closed your eyes for a second, willing yourself to keep going. “When I came home, I found them both... he had overdosed them. I guess he thought if he was going down, he’d take her with him.”

Spencer’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, and when you looked up, his eyes were filled with compassion and something else... empathy, perhaps. He didn’t say a word, just let you continue.

“That’s how I found them. Both gone, just... gone.” You could feel your breath hitch as the memories flooded back. “After that, my little sister and I went to live with my aunt. She took us in, gave us a home, but it was never the same. My sister... she couldn’t handle what our father did. She was so young, and it broke her.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you wiped it away quickly. Spencer leaned closer, his body almost enveloping you with comfort.

“Where is your sister now?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “She got addicted too, a few years later. I tried to help her, but she was... lost. She ran away when she was old enough, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

Spencer looked at you with a pained expression, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you, for both of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “It was... it still is. But I guess I’m just terrified of the past catching up to me, of losing more people to the same thing.”

Spencer’s thumb gently stroked your hand, silently encouraging you to continue.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you wiped the last trace of tears from your eyes. “I love my aunt dearly,” you said, voice soft but filled with warmth. “She’s an amazing woman. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be... I probably would have ended up in foster care, or worse.”

“She did everything she could to help my sister,” you continued. “Took us both in when she didn’t have to, gave us a home, stability. But... my sister refused treatment, refused help. My aunt tried, I tried, but she just... wouldn’t listen. I think... I think she was too broken by everything that happened.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he listened, his eyes reflecting the deep sadness he felt on your behalf. “Your aunt sounds like an incredible person,” he said softly. “She must have cared for you both so much.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “She did, and she still does. I wouldn’t have made it without her. She never gave up on me, even when things got really dark. But with my sister...” You trailed off, the pain still fresh despite the years. “She just couldn’t reach her, no matter how hard she tried.”

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled you a little closer, wrapping his arm around you protectively. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/N. I wish I could take away that pain for you.”

You leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace comfort you. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I’ve learned to live with it. It’s just hard, knowing that no matter how much love we gave her, my sister couldn’t be saved.”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice gentle as he spoke. “You did everything you could. Sometimes... people just aren’t ready to accept help. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try, or that you didn’t love her enough.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to just breathe. You hadn’t shared this part of yourself with anyone in such a long time, and Spencer’s quiet understanding felt like a balm to your soul.

“She sounds like an incredible woman, your aunt,” Spencer added, squeezing your hand gently. “And so do you.”

You looked at Spencer with tears welling in your eyes, your emotions on full display. “Thank you, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with gratitude. His thumb gently wiped a tear from underneath your eye, his touch soft and reassuring.

"Not just for listening,” you continued, “but for being you.”

Spencer smiled at you, a deep, affectionate smile that made your heart flutter. His eyes shone with understanding and care, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming connection between you two. He leaned forward then, kissing you deeply, a kiss full of warmth and unspoken promises.

"Thank you for telling me," he murmured softly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

You laughed softly, more at yourself than anything, as you wiped away the remnants of your tears. "Okay, whew, that’s that," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "Now you know. We can stop crying now."

Spencer smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His eyes flickered with something more, a desire to share, to open up just as you had. “Do you want to know about my parents?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded your head, giving him your full attention, ready to listen just as he had for you.

Spencer sighed deeply, his gaze far away for a moment, as if gathering the words. “My mom… she has schizophrenia. It started when I was really young, and I spent a lot of time trying to understand her illness. It wasn’t easy growing up, knowing she wasn’t like other moms. She was brilliant though, a professor of literature. She used to read to me all the time, teaching me about everything she loved. That’s probably where I get my love for books.”

You listened intently, your heart breaking a little for the boy he once was, trying to make sense of a world so complex and painful.

“My dad left when I was ten,” Spencer continued, his voice quieter now. “He couldn’t handle it anymore—her illness, the responsibility. He just… left. And it was just me and her after that.”

Spencer’s voice wavered slightly, but he stayed composed. “I spent my childhood trying to take care of her, in my own way. She had episodes, but I didn’t want her to go to a hospital, so I hid a lot of it from people. I thought… I thought I could fix it.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. Spencer glanced at you, his expression softening as he took comfort in your presence.

“I’ve made peace with it now,” Spencer said after a beat. “But it wasn’t easy. There were days I felt like I was drowning, trying to take care of her and go to school, trying to make something of myself.” He paused, then added, “She’s in a facility now, getting the care she needs. I visit when I can.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting his words settle, understanding the depth of his pain and the strength it must have taken to survive such a childhood.

"Thank you for telling me," you whispered, echoing his earlier words. Your thumb brushed against the back of his hand as you gazed at him with admiration. "You’re a wonderful man, Spencer."

He smiled softly, his eyes brimming with affection as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

When the coffee was finished and the emotional weight of your stories had settled, you both stood up, moving inside together. There was no need for plans, no pressure to fill the day with anything grand. You simply wanted to be together, to spend the day wrapped up in each other’s presence, doing nothing but enjoying the quiet comfort of your shared company.

—

Spencer’s day had started off on a sour note the moment he walked into the testing facility. The thought of being watched during such an intimate, humiliating process had been enough to make his stomach churn. The presence of the other agent, someone he didn’t know, standing nearby as he tried to perform an already uncomfortable task had only worsened his mood.

By the time he returned to the office, Spencer was tense, his nerves frayed from the ordeal. His team—his friends—were used to his occasional bad moods, but this was different. He hated that the drug tests were a constant reminder of a time in his life he’d fought so hard to put behind him, a scar that Strauss and her protocols kept reopening.

Penelope was the first to try and talk to him, her usual bubbly energy shining through as she asked, “Hey, Reid, how was your weekend? Did you spend it with your girl?”

Without thinking, Spencer snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “I don’t want to talk about it, Penelope.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he could see the hurt flash across her face before she quickly masked it with a forced smile. He regretted it immediately, but in his irritation, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize right away.

Then, Derek, ever the good friend, set a fresh cup of coffee on Spencer’s desk—a simple gesture of kindness. But when a bit of the coffee spilled over the edge onto his papers, Spencer’s patience snapped again.

“Can you not?” Spencer bit out, glaring at the small mess. “It’s everywhere now, Morgan.”

Derek raised his hands in surrender, clearly not wanting to poke the bear. “Alright, alright, take it easy, pretty boy.”

Emily, sensing Spencer’s volatile mood, wisely kept her distance. She’d seen him like this before and knew better than to engage when he was on edge.

JJ, always the nurturer, tried her best to offer a soothing presence. “Spence, are you okay? You seem a little... off today.”

But instead of the comfort she usually brought, her words only stoked the fire. “I’m fine, JJ. Can everyone just stop asking me how I’m doing?”

Her eyes widened, taken aback by his harsh tone, and Spencer immediately felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t mean to lash out, especially at JJ, who was only trying to help. His apology came quickly, but it did little to ease the tension.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his frustration pressing down on him. “I just... I’m not in a great place right now.”

Hotch had been watching from his office, observing how Spencer was struggling to keep it together. He knew better than most what Spencer was going through, but it was clear today wasn’t a day Spencer should be in the office.

He walked over to Spencer’s desk, his expression firm but understanding. “Reid, go home.”

Spencer looked up, surprised. “I have work to finish—”

“You can take it with you,” Hotch interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You need some space. Go home, get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Spencer didn’t fight it. He nodded, collecting his things, knowing that Hotch was right. He wasn’t doing anyone any good by staying, and his snapping at the people who cared about him only made him feel worse.

As he left the office, Spencer felt a weight lift slightly from his shoulders. But the humiliation of the morning still gnawed at him, and he wondered how long this protocol would hang over his head like a dark cloud.

Things only got worse when you texted Spencer on your lunch break, sharing a silly story about a printer mix-up at work. Normally, Spencer would find your anecdotes charming, loving the way you broke them up into several texts as if you were telling the story in person. But today, the constant pinging of his phone was too much for his already frayed nerves.

He stared at the screen, watching the notifications pile up, the sound seeming louder and more grating than usual. The tension from the day—the frustration, the stress, the hidden weight of what he was dealing with—made every ping feel like it was vibrating directly into his skull.

Instead of waiting for more texts to come through, he called you. It wasn’t out of anger, but a desperate need to silence the noise and prevent the headache he felt creeping up.

“Hi, baby!” you answered, your voice bright and cheery, though you sounded a little surprised. “I didn’t realize you were on your phone. Sorry if I was texting too much—”

“I’m home. Hotch let me leave early,” he huffed, his voice sharp and tense, though he hadn’t meant for it to sound so irritated.

“Oh…” you paused, a little concern creeping into your voice. “Are you alright? Are you feeling sick?”

Your genuine worry, which normally would have soothed him, only felt like another weight on his chest today. He wasn’t angry with you, but the frustration that had been building all day finally spilled over.

“I’m fine,” Spencer snapped, his tone harsher than he intended. “I just… I’m having a bad day, okay?”

The line went quiet for a moment. He immediately regretted his words, knowing you didn’t deserve the brunt of his frustration. You hadn’t done anything wrong, and here he was, snapping at you over something as small as a few text messages.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said softly, the lightness in your voice replaced with a gentle, understanding tone. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He sighed, the guilt crashing down on him. You had no idea what he was really dealing with—he hadn’t told you about the drug tests, about Strauss's constant scrutiny. He didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to think any less of him, so he kept it all to himself. But now, it was spilling over into how he treated you, and he hated that.

“No, I know. I’m sorry,” Spencer replied, softer now, trying to reign in his frustration. “It’s not you, I just… today’s been rough.”

There was a pause again, your voice gentle when you finally spoke. “Do you want me to come over? We don’t have to talk about it. I can just be there.”

Spencer hesitated. The truth was, part of him wanted you there. He always felt better with you around, your presence grounding him in ways he couldn’t explain. But today, he wasn’t sure if he could handle being around anyone, even you. Not when he felt so close to snapping at the slightest thing.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe… I just need some space right now.”

Your understanding was immediate, though he could hear the slight tinge of hurt in your voice. “Okay, I get it. Just know I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah,” Spencer muttered, closing his eyes and trying to push away the guilt and frustration swirling inside him. “Thanks, Y/N.”

When the call ended, Spencer sat in the quiet of his apartment, feeling the weight of his bad day pressing down on him. He knew he should tell you what was going on, but the shame and embarrassment kept him silent. He wanted to feel better, wanted to stop snapping at the people he cared about, but today everything felt… wrong.

—

Rossi stood in Strauss’s office, the door closed behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her with a frustrated expression. He had been simmering over this decision for days now, but he knew he had to say something. It was eating at him.

“You know, Erin, I think you went too far this time,” Rossi said, his voice low but firm. “Having Spencer drug tested every month? It’s uncalled for. The kid’s been clean for years now. He’s proven himself.”

Strauss didn’t look up from the file in front of her, her expression unreadable. “David, you of all people should understand why this is necessary.”

“I told you in confidence,” Rossi said, stepping closer to her desk, his voice gaining an edge. “Because of us. Not so you could turn around and use it against him. You think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Strauss finally lifted her eyes to meet his, her expression calm and collected. “I’m trying to protect her.”

Rossi let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You’re punishing him for something that hasn’t even happened. He hasn’t slipped up, and I don’t think he will. He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

“He’s a liability,” Strauss said firmly, not backing down. “And I’m not going to sit by and wait for him to make a mistake that costs us all more than we’re willing to pay.”

Rossi clenched his jaw, frustrated by her unwillingness to see reason. “You’re not protecting her or the Bureau, Erin. You’re making it harder for him to succeed. You’re putting a target on his back.”

Strauss crossed her arms, her expression unyielding. “Sometimes, David, tough decisions have to be made. Whether or not you agree with them.”

Rossi sighed, knowing the conversation was hitting a dead end. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing before it’s too late.” He gave her one final look, disappointed but unsurprised, before turning on his heel and leaving her office, the tension lingering long after he was gone.

—

Spencer stood there, looking so tired and worn down, and your heart clenched at the sight of him. You could tell he was struggling, and the weight of whatever was on his mind was pressing heavily on his shoulders. You stepped closer, gently touching his arm.

“Spencer?” you asked softly, your voice full of concern.

He looked at you, his gaze softened by exhaustion, and he sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for how I was yesterday… I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

You shook your head, stepping aside to let him in, your hand reaching for his as you pulled him through the door. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. But what’s going on? You’ve been so quiet. I’ve been worried.”

He gave a small nod, his eyes downcast as he stepped into your apartment, letting the warmth of your presence surround him. You led him to the couch, and he collapsed into it with a heavy sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck as if trying to ease the tension that had built there.

“I… I just had a really hard day,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Work stuff. It’s… it’s complicated, and I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Your concern deepened, but you didn’t want to push him. You could see in his eyes that he was holding something back, something that was clearly eating at him, but if he wasn’t ready to share, you would respect that. You just wanted to be there for him, however he needed.

You nodded softly, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in yours, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “Okay. You don’t have to talk about it,” you said gently. “But I’m here. And if you want to just… be, we can do that too.”

Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax a little at your words, and he let out a small breath, his fingers squeezing yours tightly as if holding on to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I just… I just want to be with you,” he said quietly, his eyes finally meeting yours, the vulnerability in them breaking your heart. “I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be here with you.”

You gave him a gentle smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Then we’ll just be,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes as you kissed him, letting out a long, shaky breath as he leaned into your touch. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. For a long moment, you just held him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured after a while, his voice barely audible, but the emotion behind it clear. “For being here.”

You stroked his hair softly, your heart full of love for the man in your arms. “Always, Spencer,” you whispered. “I’m always here.” 

And though the weight of his hidden struggles lingered in the air, for now, it was enough to just be together.

The laughter that filled the room later was like music, and for the first time in what felt like days, Spencer felt light again. You were both sprawled out on the couch, popcorn forgotten as Spencer had successfully wrestled you under him, his hands expertly tickling your sides. Your uncontrollable giggles filled the room as you squirmed beneath him, trying to bat his hands away.

“Spence!” you squealed, your voice rising in playful desperation. “Stop! I can’t—” 

He laughed, his own amusement bubbling up as he leaned down, pressing quick, ticklish kisses along your neck and cheeks, making you squirm even more.

“What?” he teased, pretending not to hear you, his voice lighthearted and mischievous. “Can’t hear you over all this squawking in my ear!”

Your laughter came out in breathless bursts, and you managed to shove at his chest lightly, still giggling as he finally gave you a moment to catch your breath. Spencer grinned down at you, his face flushed from laughter, his earlier heaviness completely gone, replaced by a playful glint in his eyes.

"Truce?" you gasped, still trying to stop your own giggles, your hands grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself.

Spencer tilted his head, pretending to think it over for a moment before nodding, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Alright. Truce. But only because you begged so nicely.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled up at him, your heart swelling at how much lighter and carefree he seemed now. Whatever weight he had been carrying earlier was gone, at least for the moment, and you couldn’t help but feel proud that you had been the one to help lift it. 

He stayed on top of you for a moment longer, both of you catching your breath, the warmth of his body comforting against yours. He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly, his voice gentle as he murmured, “You always know how to make me feel better.”

You smiled up at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “I just like seeing you happy,” you said softly. “You deserve it.”

For a moment, Spencer didn’t say anything, just looking at you with a kind of quiet admiration that made your heart flutter. Then, with a playful smirk, he rolled off you, tugging you back up to sit in his lap. “Alright, I’ll stop tickling you,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement, “for now.”

You glared and pointed your finger in his face, making him cross his eyes like a dork. “Tickle me again, and I’ll... I’ll…”

“Yeah? Go on, honey,” he teased, his smirk growing wider as his hands continued to rub your hips.

Flustered by his confidence, you blurted, “I’ll spit on you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that the best you got?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice as your eyes locked on his. “Careful, baby… sounds like you might actually want that.”

Spencer's smirk faltered slightly, his eyes widening in surprise before he laughed nervously. You could feel the shift in energy between you, the playful banter taking on a new, teasing intensity.

“Wha—no,” he stammered, trying to recover, but the playful glint in your eyes had him flustered.

You leaned in closer, your hands resting on his chest as you whispered in a low, sultry tone, “Mmm, you sure about that?”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands instinctively tightening on your hips as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re… you’re just trying to get a rise out of me,” he finally managed to say, his voice a little breathless, but there was no hiding the way his body reacted to your proximity.

You grinned, feeling empowered by the effect you had on him. “And it’s working,” you teased, your lips brushing against his ear as you gently let your hips grind on his.

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to yours, filled with affection and playful frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You giggled, sitting up straight and giving him a satisfied look. “Maybe,” you said sweetly, “but you like it.”

He sighed dramatically, still flustered but clearly loving every second of your teasing. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Spencer’s hands slipped from your hips, wrapping around your waist instead as he pulled you closer. “But if you threaten me with spitting again,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, “I might have to get you back.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”

He smirked, leaning in closer so his lips were just inches from yours. “I guess you’ll have to find out,” he murmured before kissing you deeply, the playfulness of the moment fading into something more tender and intimate.

“You want to show me?” you whispered against his lips, nipping softly at Spencer’s lower lip, sending a shiver down his spine.

He groaned in response, the sharp, sweet pain igniting something inside him. But as much as the dirty talk stirred him, he hesitated. Spencer wasn’t as experienced as his playful words suggested, even though he'd picked up more than a few lines from the books he'd read — including a couple of romance novels that had taught him a thing or two.

Still, feeling the heat between you, Spencer nodded, leaning in for a kiss. This one wasn’t gentle or tentative, but filled with passion, tongues meeting, teeth grazing lips, and it set off a fire in both of your bellies. 

Your hands gripped at his hair, pulling him closer as his hands moved up your sides, exploring every inch of you, unsure but eager. The kiss deepened, both of you giving in to the moment, feeling the intensity grow between you. It was uncharted territory for him, but he was more than willing to learn with you.

Feeling bold, Spencer let his hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing tentatively. The whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers dug into your flesh sent a surge of pride through him. He was still a little unsure, but that reaction told him he was on the right track.

But then you pulled back slightly, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Is this what I get? I might have to threaten you more often…”

Something primal seemed to take over Spencer at your teasing words, and before he knew it, his hand came down in a sharp, quick slap against your ass. The sound echoed around the room, but it was your loud, unrestrained moan that had his pulse racing.

His eyes widened, both with shock at his own actions and the reaction it had caused. “You like that?” he asked, his voice thick with a mixture of curiosity and raw desire, unable to believe what had just happened — and how much it seemed to affect both of you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice husky with need. “I do.”

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he might have just unlocked something new between the two of you — something he was more than ready to explore.

Spencer pulled you back in, capturing your lips in an even deeper kiss, his tongue teasing yours while his hand came down with another sharp slap to your ass. The moan that left your mouth vibrated against his, making his head spin as you ground down on his growing bulge, the heat between you two intensifying by the second.

You both moved together in a desperate, frenzied rhythm, as if the space between your bodies was too much to bear. The need for more overwhelmed both of you, pushing the tension higher, the air thick with desire.

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he let out little grunts and groans, lost in the sensation. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he threw his head back, pulling you down harder into him, his whole body shuddering as he finished with a deep, guttural groan. 

Panting heavily, his fingers still dug into your hips, he slowly came back down from his high, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. The heat between you still simmered, but the moment of release left both of you tingling and a little dazed, wrapped in the intimacy of the moment.

You looked down at him with a playful smirk, unable to resist teasing him just a little. "Spence... did you just come in your pants?"

Still breathing heavily, he nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yup."

You let out a laugh, shifting slightly on his lap, causing him to groan at the sudden movement against his sensitive cock. "Oops, sorry, baby," you said with a mischievous grin, sitting back on his thighs. "I didn't realize you were so close."

Spencer leaned his head back on the couch, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. The angle gave you a perfect view of his sharp jawline, and you couldn't help but admire how utterly spent—and gorgeous—he looked in that moment. "I didn't either," he admitted with a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Lots of pent-up emotions, huh?" you teased, letting your finger trail lightly over the wet spot on his pants. He twitched at the sensation, quickly grabbing your wrist and gently pushing your hand away. He lifted his head, playfully glaring at you, though there was no malice in his gaze, only affection.

"Not funny," he muttered, trying to stifle a smile.

You giggled, leaning down to kiss his cheek, unable to resist teasing him one last time. "Maybe not for you... but I find it pretty adorable."

“Adorable? Last time you said it was hot,” Spencer pouted, his expression turning to one of mortification as the realization hit him. “Oh my god, I’ve done this twice. Maybe I am a virgin.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart melting for him. Leaning in, you kissed him gently, hoping to ease his mind and distract him from his embarrassment. “It’s hot and adorable, Spence,” you whispered against his lips, your tone soft and reassuring. “And, trust me, very flattering.”

But Spencer still looked unsure, his brows knitting together in uncertainty. You could see his mind working, trying to make sense of it, and you knew he wasn’t fully convinced just yet.

With a sultry smile, you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “Do you want to see how hot I find it? How hot I find you?” Your voice dripped with desire, and Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he nodded dumbly, ready and willing to follow your lead.

You took his hand in yours, guiding it down the front of your sleep shorts, pressing his fingers against the undeniable evidence of your arousal. His eyes widened even more as he felt just how wet you were for him, his lips parting in a quiet gasp.

“That’s how much I liked it,” you whispered, watching his reaction closely. Spencer’s mouth fell open, his fingers instinctively pressing deeper, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

“Oh wow, wow, you're really wet,” Spencer said in awe, his voice full of innocent surprise.

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you ground down on his hand. “I know, baby. You really turn me on.”

His eyes widened even more, his mouth dropping open as he took in the full extent of your arousal. “No, you’re soaking my hand, darling,” he murmured, the way he said that sending shivers down your spine.

A moan slipped from your lips as you instinctively ground down on his fingers, seeking more friction. “Oh fuck,” Spencer breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Are you riding my hand?”

You nodded, dazed and overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you. His fingers stayed inside, moving ever so slightly as you rocked your hips, riding him. The sensation was too much and not enough all at once, and the sound of his breathless voice only made you want more.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back and forth between your face and where his hand disappeared into your shorts, mesmerized by the sight and the sounds you were making. "I can't believe I'm making you feel this good," he whispered, more to himself than to you, the awe in his voice making you shudder in delight.

“Spence, this feels so good, my god, but… my knees are cramping,” you complained breathlessly, your body trembling from the sensation.

Without missing a beat, Spencer immediately pulled his hand away, giving you the space to move. You let out a soft whine at the sudden loss, and he smirked down at you. “Well, do you want to move or not?”

Rolling your eyes, you climbed off his lap and sprawled out on the couch, looking up at him expectantly. You were ready for whatever came next, your body still humming with anticipation. But Spencer did something completely unexpected.

Instead of wiping his hand off, as you had assumed he would, you watched as his gaze flickered down to the wetness covering his fingers. His brows furrowed slightly in curiosity, as if he were studying it. Before you could say anything, Spencer did the unfathomable—he brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly sliding them past his lips.

A deep, low moan escaped him as he tasted you, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he were savoring the taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, absolutely floored by the sight. Your heart raced, heat rushing through your body as you watched him, your own arousal building even higher. You couldn’t believe how much this innocent man was making you lose control.

“Fuck,” Spencer murmured when he finally pulled his now-clean fingers from his mouth, his eyes dark with lust. “You taste amazing.”

The look on your face must have been one of pure shock because Spencer quickly followed up with a concerned, “Was that okay?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Shut up right now and kiss me,” you said, your voice urgent and breathless.

Without missing a beat, Spencer leaned down, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was electric, fueled by the raw intensity of the moment. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, which only made you hungrier for him. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Spencer let out a low groan as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this level of desire, but with Spencer, everything felt heightened, like every touch and every kiss was sending shockwaves through you.

This was the filthiest, sloppiest, most passionate kiss either of you had ever shared with anyone. The intensity was palpable, your bodies pressed together so tightly it felt as though there wasn’t enough room in the world to contain the desire between you. You couldn’t get enough, your hands tugging at Spencer’s hair, sliding under his shirt to scratch his back, pinching his nipples, reveling in the way he responded—moaning into your mouth, his own hands gripping you with a hunger that mirrored yours.

It was hard to tell how long you kissed—minutes or hours, time seemed to blur—but eventually, Spencer pulled back, gasping for breath, his chest heaving. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of your hair spread out like a halo on the couch, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, your eyes darkened with lust and, though neither of you had said it yet, a glimmer of what could only be described as love.

“Darling,” he panted, his voice rough and thick with need, “can we go to your bed? I want to treat you this time.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were up in a flash, pulling your beautiful, sweet boyfriend with you, his hand wrapped in yours as you rushed toward your bedroom. You’d never moved so fast in your life, eager for what was to come, for the pleasure he promised.

Once in the bedroom, Spencer's hands wasted no time. He immediately tugged your shorts and underwear down, discarding them in a flash before pulling off your shirt with the same eagerness, leaving you completely bare before him. His eyes roamed over you with pure admiration, awe evident in every part of his expression.

“Did you get more beautiful?” he asked breathlessly, the sincerity of the compliment making you feel flushed.

You playfully slapped his chest, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Shut up,” you teased, leaning up to kiss him as your hands found the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. But just as you reached for his pants, Spencer gently pushed you back down onto the bed.

“This is about you, my love.”

The words hung in the air, sweet and heavy with meaning. My love. It was new, but it felt right—natural, even. Before you could respond, Spencer pushed you onto the bed and lowered himself to your chest, his lips closing around one of your nipples. His mouth was soft, tender, at first, but then you felt his teeth sink in, sharp enough to make you gasp, a promise of the mark he was leaving behind.

Your back arched, pressing your body further into him, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you lost yourself in the feel of him—of his mouth, his hands, his love.

Spencer’s mouth continued its exploration, alternating between your breasts and sending warm pulses of pleasure through your body. His attention to detail was incredible, every touch, every kiss feeling like a deliberate act of worship. He took his time, caressing you as though you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world. The intimacy of it all overwhelmed you, a mixture of tenderness and building desire swirling inside.

When his soft kisses finally began to descend down your stomach, a light giggle escaped your lips—it tickled, playful and gentle. But that laughter vanished the moment his lips found your inner thigh, sucking a mark into your sensitive skin. Spencer’s large hands gripped your thighs, spreading them open wide for him, his touch reverent but firm.

“Spen—Spencer,” you panted, glancing down at him. His big, beautiful brown eyes met yours, glazed with determination and lust, but also something tender. He kept his gaze locked on you as he kissed along your thigh, making your breath hitch. "Have you... done this before?"

He paused, releasing your thigh from his mouth with a small, almost playful pop. “No,” he admitted honestly, “but I have read plenty about the acts of cunnilingus, and I think I will be able to satisfy you. As long as you communicate with me, okay?”

The honesty in his voice, the seriousness of his intent, sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Spencer reached for one of your hands, which had been gripping the sheets so tightly. He held it gently, reassuring you, grounding you. You nodded eagerly, your breath coming out in shallow pants, giving him permission to continue.

And without further hesitation, Spencer dove back in, his kisses now dangerously close to your core. The anticipation was electrifying, and you could already tell—he was going to be good at this. Very good.

And good he was. The second Spencer's tongue touched you, it was like fireworks exploded behind your eyes, sending electricity shooting through your veins. The intensity of it all nearly overwhelmed you, especially when you heard his voice, low and mumbled against you. 

“Eyes on me,” he said, the words vibrating against you.

You forced your eyes open and looked down, the sight nearly sending you over the edge. Spencer, his head buried between your legs, met your gaze with intense eye contact as his tongue continued to explore you. The sensation, paired with the way he moaned into you, made your whole body tremble. It was impossible to deny how much he enjoyed it, the way he tasted you straight from the source, his pleasure evident in every sound and movement.

As phenomenal as it was, you still craved more stimulation. And Spencer had asked you to communicate, so you squeezed his hand, your voice shaky. “Baby?”

He hummed into you, the vibration making you whine and twitch involuntarily. “Can you... unghh—can you find the clit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, clearly amused but also eager to show that his knowledge wasn’t just theoretical. Almost immediately, he hit the target, causing your body to jerk at the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Go–good,” you gasped, your voice thick with need. “Now suck.”

And he did.

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. The second you asked, he focused his attention on your clit, enveloping it gently between his lips. A low moan escaped his throat, vibrating against you as he began to suck softly, testing the waters. Your body jolted at the sensation, your back arching as an involuntary gasp tore through you.

"Yes, just like that..." you whispered breathlessly, your grip tightening on his hand, the other fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure rolled through you. It was overwhelming in the best way, and Spencer wasn’t just doing well—he was doing phenomenally. His tongue flicked and swirled as if with practiced precision, the moans he let out making everything ten times more intense.

You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Every flick of his tongue, every pull of his lips was bringing you higher, faster. It was as if he knew exactly what you needed, and the connection between you both in this moment felt almost sacred.

Your legs began to tremble, and your breathing grew more erratic. "Spence, I’m—oh my god, I'm so close," you whimpered, your hand instinctively moving to tangle in his hair, gripping tight as the pleasure threatened to push you over the edge.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes still locked onto yours, unwavering, making the moment even more intense. His grip on your hand tightened as if encouraging you to let go, to surrender to the pleasure completely.

And when his tongue applied just the right amount of pressure, his lips sucking gently but firmly on your clit, that tension finally snapped. Your body convulsed, a guttural moan escaping you as the orgasm crashed over you, waves of ecstasy leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

"That's it," Spencer murmured, his voice low and raspy, sounding both proud and a little in awe as he watched you unravel under him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, looking down at him with a dazed smile. He hadn't pulled away yet, still gently caressing your sensitive skin with the softest of kisses, making sure you were coming down from your high as gently as possible.

“Spencer...” you managed to breathe out, your voice a mix of disbelief and pure satisfaction. You hadn’t thought it possible, but he had completely exceeded your expectations.

He grinned up at you, his mouth still glistening with evidence of your release. “I guess the reading paid off, huh?” he teased, his voice full of affection and just a hint of smugness.

You chuckled weakly, your whole body still tingling with aftershocks. "Oh, it definitely paid off..."

“Earth to Y/N,” Spencer teased, coming up beside you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His warm breath tickled your skin as he added with a soft laugh, “Are you alright?”

You blinked out of your daze, still recovering from the incredible experience, and turned to look at him with wide, astonished eyes. “Anytime you need a study buddy," you said, your voice filled with awe, "anytime, you call me."

Spencer chuckled, his cheeks tinged pink as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a wink.

After you returned to earth, Spencer gently helped you up and led you to the bathroom, drawing a warm, soothing bath. He carefully eased you both into the tub, your back resting against his chest, the comforting warmth of the water surrounding you. The intimacy of the moment was in the simplicity of it—just the two of you, cocooned in the peaceful, quiet space.

As you both settled in, the conversation flowed naturally, a mix of everything and nothing. Spencer told you more details about his extensive schooling, sharing amusing stories about his early university days, while you, in turn, told him about how you ended up adopting Poof, your beloved cat.

At one point, Spencer furrowed his brow, realizing something. “Speaking of, where is Poof?” he asked, looking around as if your mischievous cat might suddenly appear. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in a while.”

You giggled, your hand absently stroking Spencer's leg beneath the water as you explained. “Oh, he’s become the building cat," you said with affection in your voice. "The townhouses are connected by fire escapes in the back, and Poof likes to explore. He moves back and forth between the different houses. I guess you’ve just been missing him.”

Spencer chuckled softly, resting his chin on your shoulder, clearly intrigued. “A little adventurer, huh? Well, hopefully, I’ll catch him in action one of these days.”

You smiled, leaning back more into him, feeling completely at ease as the two of you basked in the comfortable rhythm of your conversation and the quiet warmth of the water.

—

Spencer sat stiffly in the chair across from Chief Strauss’ desk, his hands folded in his lap as he waited for whatever new torment she had in store for him. He was sure his tests were clean, they always were. But he also knew Strauss had been gunning for him for years now, and this meeting was likely just another way to shake him down, to keep him on edge.

As he stared at the piles of neatly stacked papers on her desk, Strauss held up a finger, signaling for him to wait as she answered an incoming call. Spencer huffed internally, trying to push down the frustration bubbling up inside him. But when she answered the phone, something about her tone caught his attention.

"Chief Strauss," she said, her voice all business at first, but then, to Spencer’s shock, a smile broke out across her face. "Oh, hi, Red, how are you, dear?"

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing slightly. Red? It couldn’t be…could it? His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of it. The name, the affectionate tone—it sounded eerily similar to the nickname you had mentioned your aunt called you. But that was just a coincidence, right? 

Strauss continued her conversation, oblivious to Spencer’s sudden change in demeanor. "Yes, yes, of course. I’ll make sure it gets done. Oh, and how is little Poof doing?"

Spencer's heart stopped. Poof? No. There was no way this could be a coincidence now. His mind raced as he pieced it together. Red … Poof …Your aunt. His eyes widened in realization, but he kept his face neutral, trying not to betray the wave of shock crashing over him.

Strauss glanced at him briefly as she continued her conversation, still smiling. Spencer's thoughts were spinning. Was your aunt Erin Strauss?

Spencer was spiraling, his mind whirling with disbelief as Chief Strauss hung up the phone, turning her attention back to him. He was trying to maintain composure, but it was like everything around him was crumbling. She had called you Red. She had mentioned Poof. It was all too much.

“So, Reid,” Strauss began, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her. Her tone shifted back to business. “How have you been managing? With the recovery, I mean. I understand the tests have been clean, but I want to know how you’re really doing.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. His nerves were already shot, and now with this revelation about you weighing on him, he couldn’t hold back. His voice came out sharper than he intended.

“Why does it even matter?” Spencer snapped, glaring at her. “You’ve been waiting for me to slip up, to fail. You never believed in my recovery from the start.”

Strauss raised an eyebrow, her expression hardening. "I’m trying to protect you, Reid, as much as I’m trying to protect others from you."

Spencer's stomach twisted. “Protect me? From what exactly? You’ve been gunning for me ever since I admitted to my addiction. You hate me.” His voice shook, his frustration bubbling over.

Strauss took a deep breath, her face softening, but her words cut deep. "I don’t hate you, Spencer. But I know what addiction can do to a person, to a family."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, his voice thick with suspicion. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"My sister and her husband," Strauss said, her voice wavering slightly, "they died from drugs. Overdosed. My niece is an addict too, lost to us."

Spencer felt a chill wash over him, and his voice dropped as he asked, "Y/N’s parents?"

Strauss swallowed thickly, nodding, her eyes momentarily flicking away from his. "Yes. And do you think I’m going to stand by and watch her get hurt again? Watch another person she cares about spiral into that life?" Her gaze locked back onto Spencer’s, now filled with a fierce determination. "No, Spencer. I’m not going to let you ruin her life like her father did."

The words hit Spencer like a physical blow, leaving him breathless. His heart raced, anger and guilt twisting together painfully in his chest. This threat—Strauss’s belief that he was a danger to you, that his history with addiction made him a risk—was like a punch to the gut.

"I’m not him," Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. "I’m not going to hurt her."

Strauss’s gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. "I hope you’re right, Reid. But I can’t afford to take chances when it comes to her. Not after everything she’s been through. So, yes, the drug tests stay. And if I see one misstep, I won’t hesitate to remove you from this team, or from her life."

Spencer felt his anger boil over, his fists clenched as he leaned forward in the chair. “You can’t stop me from seeing her, we’re both adults. You have no right to interfere.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, calm in the face of his anger. Her voice was low, but it cut through the room with precision. “Does she know about your addiction, Spencer?”

The question hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, and Spencer froze. His face told her everything she needed to know—he hadn’t told you. 

Strauss’s lips curled slightly, not in triumph but in grim acknowledgment. “Then you better not mess up,” she said, her voice cold and menacing.

Spencer stood up abruptly, the air feeling suffocating in her office. He was furious—not just with Strauss, but with himself. He knew he’d been holding something back from you, just as you had from him. He hadn’t told you about his past, hadn’t opened up about his addiction, the demons he fought to keep buried. And now he was in this twisted position, where your aunt knew more about him than you did.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

He stormed out of Strauss’s office, his heart racing, feeling cornered in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was upset that you hadn’t told him who your aunt was, hadn’t trusted him with that part of your life. But deep down, he knew he was no better. He had held back too—out of fear, out of shame.

As he left the building and stepped out into the cold air, Spencer’s mind whirled. He had to talk to you. He had to come clean before everything unraveled. You both deserved the truth.

—

You knocked on Spencer’s door that evening, a bottle of wine tucked under your arm and a loaf of fresh French bread in your hand. You’d spent the afternoon preparing his favorite pasta dish, hoping for a quiet, cozy night together after the busy week you both had. When Spencer opened the door, you gave him a warm smile.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

But the look on Spencer’s face made your heart drop. His eyes were dark, his expression serious. The atmosphere was heavy, and you could tell immediately that something was wrong. 

“When were you going to tell me that Strauss is your aunt?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. 

You froze, the smile fading from your face. “What?”

“I found out today,” Spencer continued, stepping aside to let you in but not looking at you. “From her, actually. I thought... I thought we were being honest with each other.”

You sighed, setting down the wine and bread on his kitchen counter, turning to face him. “Spence, I was going to tell you. I just… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” His eyes searched yours, looking for an explanation that could make this better, that could ease the confusion and frustration swirling in his mind.

You ran a hand through your hair, fidgeting slightly. “Scared because you work for her. I didn’t want things to get complicated or messy between you two. I didn’t want you to think I was keeping it from you on purpose.”

Spencer’s face softened slightly as he processed your words, but he still didn’t seem fully convinced. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me, though? I wouldn’t have cared about who your aunt is, I care about you.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer to him, reaching for his hands. “I know, Spencer. I know. I just… I didn’t want things to get weird at work for you. And honestly, I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’ve been afraid of how it might change things, I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed a little as he listened to your explanation. He squeezed your hands, a silent gesture of understanding. He could see the sincerity in your eyes, the hesitation that wasn’t born out of deceit but out of fear of complicating things for both of you. 

“I get it,” Spencer said softly after a moment. “I just… I don’t want us to keep things from each other. It’s important to me that we’re open.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands back. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Spencer smiled slightly, his frustration easing. He let out a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his body. For a moment, he considered telling you about his past—about the addiction, the drug tests, everything that Strauss had thrown at him earlier. But when he looked into your eyes, remembering the way you spoke about your family, the raw pain in your voice, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. He didn’t want to burden you with it, not when things were finally starting to feel right between you.

“Let’s just... enjoy dinner,” Spencer finally said, a small smile playing on his lips as he pulled you closer into a hug. “I’m sorry for bringing it up like that. I should’ve waited.”

You sighed in relief, burying your face in his chest. “No, I’m glad you did. I don’t want to keep anything from you either.”

You both held each other for a moment longer, letting the tension fade as the warmth of your embrace brought back a sense of normalcy. Spencer kissed the top of your head before stepping back and heading into the kitchen, ready to move forward, even if some things were still left unsaid—for now.

—

Just a few weeks later, Spencer finally had a full weekend off, he decided it was the perfect opportunity for a little getaway. He packed up everything—yourself, Poof, and plenty of supplies—and whisked you away to a cozy Airbnb nestled by the lake. 

You could hardly contain your excitement, bubbling over at the thought of spending uninterrupted time with your two favorite guys. Spencer had asked you to drive while he took charge of navigation, and the car ride was nothing short of a delight. 

“Turn left here, darling,” Spencer instructed with an air of confidence.

"Are you sure it’s not right?" you teased, feigning confusion as you gripped the wheel.

Spencer let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’m positive. I do have an eidetic memory, you know.”

“Well, if we get lost, I’m holding that memory of yours accountable!” you shot back playfully, a smile spreading across both your faces.

When you finally pulled up to the lake house, you couldn't help but gasp. It was picturesque—a beautiful, quaint cabin surrounded by towering trees, with the glistening lake stretching out in the background. 

The look of pride on Spencer’s face at your reaction made your heart swell. You were completely and utterly in love. As you stood there, taking in the stunning view and the sheer thoughtfulness of his planning, you felt like this weekend was the right moment to finally tell him how you truly felt.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Spencer moved seamlessly through the cozy kitchen, putting together the perfect comfort meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Poof danced happily around your feet, always at the ready for any fallen scraps. The two of you playfully bumped hips, stole soup-covered kisses, and teased each other in the warm glow of the cabin’s lights.

After dinner, which was full of laughter and mock arguments over who could make the better grilled cheese, you cleared the table together, setting up a chessboard for a battle of wits. You knew Spencer was a prodigy, but still, you had hope. The first few rounds were... well, an obvious defeat. But then, to your surprise, you managed to win. Once. Twice. And then three times in a row! What you didn’t know was that Spencer was letting you win, his resolve crumbling at the sight of your frustrated pout. He’d pretend to mull over a move for far longer than needed, before “accidentally” making a poor choice that would lead to your victory.

Eventually, you’d had enough of the mental sparring, and Spencer’s kisses grew softer and deeper. Together, you moved outside to the wooden deck, wrapped up under a blanket, the stars reflecting in the lake’s glassy surface. The night air was crisp and fresh, a gentle breeze brushing your cheeks as you cuddled closer. 

Spencer pointed upward, tracing his finger along the sky, excitedly talking about constellations, their names, and the myths behind them. But you weren’t looking at the stars—your eyes were on him, captivated by the way his face glowed in the moonlight, his passion lighting up every word he spoke.

Without thinking, feeling overwhelmed by the moment and the deep love that filled your chest, you whispered, “I love you.”

The words felt like they hung in the air, sparkling and true under the canopy of stars.

Spencer’s face lit up as he tilted down toward you, and in that moment, it seemed as if the stars had all come to rest in his eyes, twinkling brightly with wonder and adoration. His voice was soft but filled with an almost childlike excitement, the kind reserved for a Christmas morning surprise, “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, voice steady, your gaze never wavering from his, allowing the truth of your feelings to shine through. 

He swallowed, searching your eyes as if trying to imprint every detail of this moment into his mind. “You love me?” he asked again, needing the confirmation, the words sounding so surreal to him.

“I love you, Spencer Walter Reid,” you declared, each word measured and intentional, and you watched as joy transformed his features, his eyes closing briefly in overwhelming happiness.

The next thing you felt was Spencer’s lips on yours, pressing gently at first, the kiss filled with all the tenderness and unspoken words you’d both kept hidden until now. It was sweet, slow, and beautiful, and you could feel Spencer trembling slightly, as if holding back everything he wanted to say with his lips alone. He pulled back just a breath, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispered with a trembling smile, “I love you too.”

And then he dove back in for more—kisses deeper, breaths heavier. Your hands tangled in his hair, his fingers tracing the contours of your back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you. What started as slow and sweet quickly turned heated, and Spencer’s kisses grew hungrier, his tongue tasting every part of your mouth, his hands wandering further down.

It was only when you felt the cool night air on your exposed skin that you giggled and gently pulled back, breathing heavily against his lips. “We’re outside, baby,” you murmured, your voice a mix of breathlessness and warning.

Spencer hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, and with a playful smirk, he pulled you to your feet, not letting your lips part from his. “Then we’d better get inside,” he said, his voice low and urgent, the promise of more lingering in the air as he led you toward the warmth of the cabin, hands intertwined, the night just beginning.

As you were guided along by Spencer's eager hand, your laughter filled the small cabin, echoing off the wooden beams of the cozy bedroom. The room itself was warm, glowing with the soft hues of amber light from the fireplace, its crackling flames adding to the perfect atmosphere. The bed looked irresistibly inviting, its blankets perfectly rumpled in a way that made you want to dive right in. But what really made the room perfect was Spencer—his face lighting up in a way you’d rarely seen before, his exaggerated wink playful and filled with the purest joy. 

When Spencer sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his arms out for you, you wasted no time stepping into his embrace, your body molding perfectly into the space between his legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning into the warmth of him. He buried his face in your chest, his voice muffled but filled with emotion as he mumbled, “I love you so much.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head as you teased softly, “I love you more.”

Spencer shook his head immediately, hair brushing your chin and sending little shivers down your spine. “Not possible,” he declared, his voice firm, like he was making a statement that was undeniable.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby,” you taunted lightly, trying to stifle the grin that was spreading across your face. But Spencer pulled back, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel like the only person in the world. 

A look of challenge danced across his features, his brows lifting as he quirked a smirk at you. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, voice deepening with a teasing edge.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing, a playful glint in your eyes. And in a flash, Spencer’s face morphed into one of mischievous determination. “Oh, you little—” he began, his voice dripping with affectionate frustration as he quickly flipped your positions, pushing you back onto the bed and towering over you.

“Spencer!” you squealed in laughter, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him as he tossed his shirt aside without a second thought, revealing his smooth chest. He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms on either side of your head, and his face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

“Shh,” he whispered with a smirk, “I have to show you how much I love you.” And with those words, you knew that every second of this weekend together would be filled with a love so fierce, so genuine, that it was going to be impossible not to fall for him all over again.

Spencer's mouth moved eagerly down your neck, his lips trailing soft, warm kisses that made your skin tingle in their wake. He nipped at your earlobe, tugging it gently between his teeth, and the sensation drew a light, breathy moan from you, your back arching ever so slightly into him. The sound seemed to spur him on, and he continued his descent, pausing to suck gently on your pulse point as his hands explored your sides, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist.

When his hands found the hem of your top, he slowly pushed it upward, his palms grazing your ribs, sending shivers through you. You let out a sigh, already feeling yourself melt under his touch, and obediently raised your arms so he could remove the fabric entirely, leaving you bare from the waist up. Spencer's eyes darkened with desire, and you could see the way his lips parted slightly as he took you in, your form illuminated by the soft glow of the room.

“No bra?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice, though his gaze was nothing short of reverent as it roved over your body. One brow quirked up in curiosity, his lips twitching in a smirk.

You laughed, a breathy, contented sound, shrugging as you met his gaze. “I’m on vacation.”

Spencer's smirk widened, and he nosed his way down between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. His lips brushed against your skin in a whisper of a kiss. “I knew it was a good idea bringing you here,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with want and affection. 

And as he continued his exploration of your body with his mouth and hands, you were filled with warmth and a sense of belonging, knowing that this was exactly where you were meant to be—with him.

The sensation of Spencer’s mouth on your skin sent sparks throughout your body, your breath hitching as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking gently. You arched your back instinctively, pressing yourself closer to his mouth, wanting more, needing more. He hummed contentedly, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure right through you. 

His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, switching between flicking and gentle sucking that had you gripping the sheets beneath you, your fingers twisting into the soft fabric as your eyes fluttered shut. Every movement was slow, deliberate, and filled with devotion, as if he was determined to savor every second of your pleasure. 

As he worshiped your breast, his free hand trailed down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, fingers feather-light against your skin. You could feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of your shorts, and when his fingers brushed the waistband, your hips bucked upward, desperate for more contact. 

Spencer’s lips left your breast with a soft pop, his breath warm and ragged as he whispered against your skin, “You taste so good... I could do this forever.”

His words, filled with awe and passion, made you moan in response, threading your fingers through his hair and holding him close to you. And you didn't want him to stop; you wanted every touch, every kiss, every second of his attention to be on you, completely and utterly lost in the moment together.

Spencer’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply, hungrily, as if he was trying to pour all the love he felt into every brush and caress. You sighed into his mouth, your own hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. And then, as if reading your mind, you felt his hand venture downward, fingers slipping under the waistband of your bottoms, and you gasped at the intimate touch, the sensation so electric it made your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed against your lips, his voice heavy with awe and desire. “You’re so wet.”

The sound of his voice saying those words sent a shiver straight through your core, and you whined softly, squirming under his touch, desperate for more. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking his fingers, trying to guide him where you needed him most. “Spence, baby,” you whined again, your voice breathy and pleading as you pressed kisses to his jaw, “please...”

His eyes met yours, dark and full of hunger, and he gave you a little smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Tell me what you need, darling,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers teased just outside your lips, keeping you on the edge of wanting. “Let me hear you say it.”

Your breath hitched, his teasing making you ache with longing. “I need you, Spence,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I need you to touch me, please.” 

He hummed approvingly against your mouth, giving you a tender kiss before letting his fingers dip down, finally giving you what you so desperately craved. His touch was slow, deliberate, but his eyes never left yours, wanting to see every reaction as his fingers entered you.

You had anticipated the gentle, lingering touches from the last time, but Spencer had other plans. The tenderness was gone in an instant, replaced by an urgent, almost primal need to make you fall apart in his hands. The pace he set was relentless—his fingers moved in and out of you hard and fast, pushing deeper each time, and the sensation of his palm rubbing against you with every thrust was electrifying.

“Spencer—oh god!” you cried out, gripping the sheets beneath you in a white-knuckled grasp. He wasn’t just touching you—he was consuming you, each movement of his hand pulling you closer and closer to the edge, a chaotic frenzy that left you breathless. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

His lips crashed against yours in a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth, as he groaned into your mouth. “I love watching you like this,” he whispered against your lips before sucking on your lower one, his voice a low, heady drawl. “Falling apart on my fingers...”

The overwhelming sensation of Spencer’s fingers moving within you, the roughness of his palm pressing against you just right with every thrust, made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed, desperate for more, nails digging into his back, dragging red lines down his skin. You could barely speak, your words spilling out in choked, breathless cries. “Spencer—fuck—”

He leaned down, his mouth right at your ear, his breath hot as he spoke, voice dripping with husky intensity. “Does that feel good, baby?”

You nodded fervently, unable to form coherent words as you surrendered to the relentless pleasure. “Uh huh,” you managed to pant out, a whimper escaping your lips as your hips bucked wildly to meet the rhythm of his hand. 

His grin was wicked as he watched you unravel beneath him, knowing exactly how his touch was driving you to the edge. His fingers never faltered, pushing deeper and faster, and the friction of his palm rubbing against your sensitive skin was enough to make you tremble. “I can feel you tightening up around me,” he murmured, voice low and dripping with lust. “Are you gonna come for me, love?”

You let out a desperate, needy moan, the pressure building to an unbearable peak, and all you could do was nod frantically, your eyes squeezing shut as the coil inside you tightened, ready to snap. “Yes, yes, I’m—I'm so close—”

You felt dizzy with the rush of it all, the world around you spinning as he drove you further toward that cliff of pure, euphoric release. You weren't sure how long you could hold out; your body felt on fire, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming. Each breath was a gasp, each moan louder than the last, and all you could think about was how badly you needed to fall over that edge. “Spence—I’m gonna—I can’t—”

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough and laced with raw desire. “Let go, Y/N. Come for me, right now.” His pace quickened even further, and you knew you wouldn’t last a second longer. And you didn’t, completely unraveling at his words, your body arching up into his as waves of pleasure surged through you. Your moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained, and he never stopped, his fingers working you through the intensity of your release.

You trembled beneath him, your legs shaking as the last waves of your orgasm washed over you. Spencer looked at you, eyes filled with pride and wonder, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you coming undone because of him.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, gently caressing your trembling thighs as you caught your breath. He brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he cleaned them off with his tongue, tasting you again. The sight sent a renewed thrill through you, and all you could do was reach up and pull him down for a hungry kiss, needing to feel him against you, to taste yourself on his lips.

“Thought you couldn’t finish like that?” Spencer teased, his voice low and playful, recalling the first time he'd touched you like this.

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head in pure bliss. “I didn’t think I could,” you admitted with a grin. Then, in a teasing tone, you added, “Have you been practicing? Should I be worried?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, and he quickly looked away, suddenly bashful. “N-nope. I just—uh, did some... research.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back another laugh as you saw the shyness in his eyes. “Research, huh?” you asked, leaning in closer. “What kind of research, Doctor? Did you... watch porn?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Maybe... a little,” he admitted in a soft mumble. “But only to—to learn, for you,” he added quickly, his eyes meeting yours with genuine sincerity.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, a warm, affectionate sound as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair. “Oh, my sweet genius,” you teased gently, cupping his face and turning him back to look at you. “You did all that research just for me? That’s so... adorable.”

His eyes finally met yours, a mixture of pride and lingering shyness in his expression. “It worked, then?” he asked cautiously, almost as if he needed reassurance.

“Oh, it definitely worked,” you replied, grinning widely before leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “And for the record,” you murmured against his lips, “if you want to keep up the research, I’m all for it.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his earlier nerves melting away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “In that case,” he said, a playful gleam in his eye, “I have a few more things I could show you.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “Whatcha got for me, big boy?”

The nickname made him blush a deep pink, but he just rolled his eyes in that familiar, affectionate way before letting his hands roam down to your hips. With gentle care, he slipped off your bottoms, leaving you bare before him. You stayed silent, feeling a mixture of excitement and anticipation flood through you as Spencer stood and began to remove the rest of his clothes.

The moment his pants came off, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, your eyes widening at the sight before you. “Spence?” you breathed out, your voice filled with both surprise and desire.

He grinned sheepishly, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the boyish excitement behind his eyes. Then, as if remembering something important, he reached down into his pants pocket and pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up with a charming smile and revealing a condom.

“I thought... I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady but filled with tenderness.

Your smile softened at his words, and you felt your heart swell with warmth and affection. “Yeah?” you replied sweetly, opening your arms to him. “I’m ready too.”

Spencer crawled back onto the bed, moving into your embrace, his body fitting perfectly against yours. His breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in closer, and with so much love in his voice, he whispered, “I want you to be my first.”

Your hand caressed his cheek, your thumb gently brushing against his soft skin. “Hopefully your last too,” you whispered back, sealing your words with a deep, passionate kiss, your bodies melting together under the glow of the soft lamplight.

“Do you need help putting the condom on, baby?” you asked, your voice sweet and full of kindness.

Spencer's cheeks flushed a light pink as he shook his head. “I, uh, I might have practiced,” he admitted sheepishly.

You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart swelling with even more affection. “How is it possible to keep loving you more and more every second?” you asked, the sincerity clear in your voice.

Spencer chuckled, leaning in to kiss you deeply, letting his lips linger against yours for a moment before he pulled back. He focused intently on rolling the condom on, and you found the way he bit his tongue in concentration absolutely endearing. It was a small detail, but it only made you fall deeper for him. 

When he finished, he looked back up at you, his eyes filled with that gentle, earnest love you’d come to know so well. “How do you want me?” you asked softly, wanting to make this perfect for him, for both of you.

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and his hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Just like this,” he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth. “I want to see you, all of you.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, opening your legs and wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, your bodies close and your hearts even closer.

As Spencer’s tip teased through your slick folds, you couldn't help but let out a high, keening sound, the sensation electrifying. Spencer’s own response was a low groan, the vibration of his voice adding to the intensity between you. 

His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to keep control, feeling how ready you were for him. “I’m... probably not going to last long,” he admitted, his voice laced with nervousness and excitement.

You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his gaze to yours, offering the softest smile. “I don’t care, Spence,” you said, your voice steady and full of love. “I just want to be with you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, and he nodded, more to himself than to you, as if to reassure his own nerves. Slowly, carefully, he lined himself up, and with a gentle, deep breath, he began to push in. 

The feeling was overwhelming for both of you — he was entranced by the heat and tightness enveloping him, and you were spellbound by the fullness of having him inside you for the first time. You both let out soft gasps, your hands finding his as you squeezed tightly, tethering each other through the rush of emotion and sensation. 

He paused for a moment, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting against yours as you both breathed together, as one. “You feel… unbelievable,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this was really happening.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve never been this full,” you moaned, your voice thick with pleasure and awe at the way he stretched and filled you so perfectly. 

“Shit, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his hips already making shallow, instinctual thrusts as he tried to hold himself back. “You can’t say that—” he panted, feeling your words shoot straight through him. “This will be over way too fast.” He looked down at you, the flush of his cheeks meeting the pink of his lips, and the way his face was contorted in bliss made you tighten around him. You couldn’t help it. The way he was falling apart so easily was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, his control slipping as he pounded a fist into the pillow beside your head, burying his face against your neck for a moment. “Can I—can I move?” His breath was ragged and desperate. “I need to move. Please.”

You nodded frantically, needing him just as much, your hands sliding down his back to grip his hips, urging him to let go. “Fuck me, Spence,” you whispered right against his ear, your voice soft yet commanding. And that was all the permission he needed. 

He started moving, pulling out just enough to feel the drag of your walls before thrusting back in, his rhythm quick and needy. He was lost in the feeling of you, and each movement sent waves of pleasure through both of you, driving him closer to the edge with every stroke.

Spencer’s hips moved steadily, finding a rhythm that left both of you breathless. He surprised himself, really, the way his body instinctively knew how to take care of you, how to give you everything he could in each thrust. The intensity between you built, hot and fast, with every roll of his hips, with every gasp and moan that filled the small, cozy room.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, anchoring him to you like you never wanted to let go. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing his forehead against yours as the pleasure built between you, the closeness of your bodies only deepening the connection you felt. “I love you,” you whispered right into his ear, your voice trembling as you said the words that were so true and so filled with emotion it made your eyes sting with happy tears.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut at your words, his breath hitching before he responded, “I love you too, darling.” And then he kissed you—deeply, passionately, like you were his entire world and nothing else mattered. His lips moved with urgency, soft and fervent, as his pace quickened, thrusting deeper and more desperate, as if he was pouring everything he felt into you, wanting you to feel every bit of his love with each motion. The world outside seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, wrapped in love and warmth and the sweetest kind of bliss.

Spencer's mind was racing, but finally, his instincts kicked in, sending him a signal—an idea of exactly what you needed. He wanted to make sure that you felt everything, that he was giving you all the pleasure he could. With a slight adjustment, he pulled back just enough to slide a hand down to where the two of you met, his fingers deftly finding your clit and rubbing in quick, steady circles.

“Oh!” you cried out, your whole body jolting with the sudden burst of pleasure. Your back arched high off the bed, presenting your chest to Spencer like a gift he was eager to receive. Without a moment’s hesitation, his mouth found your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking, the combination of sensations sending sparks down to your very core.

The feeling was overwhelming—Spencer’s hips driving into you in a rhythm that felt just right, his fingers working you to the brink, and his mouth hot and wet on your sensitive skin. Your moans filled the room, your fingers burying themselves in his hair, pulling him closer as your entire body trembled, the edge of release so close you could almost taste it.

“Oh my god—oh, god!” you screamed, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to its peak. “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” And then it hit—your core clenched around Spencer with such intensity that he nearly lost his rhythm, almost slipping out of you as your body reached its climax. 

And if Spencer thought you felt amazing before, now? Now, with your release, everything felt heightened, your walls fluttering around him, tightening and then loosening in waves that left him gasping. The slickness of your arousal made every thrust so much easier, so much more electric, that it sent shockwaves through his entire body. It wasn’t long before the overwhelming sensation tipped him over the edge, and his pace grew erratic, desperate, until he reached his own peak.

“Oh, fuck,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure as he thrust one last time, burying himself as deeply as he could. “Shit, baby, fuck, I—I’m coming,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut as he let go, every muscle in his body tensing before his release washed over him in shuddering waves.

His head fell to the crook of your neck as he finished, holding you close, both of you breathless and trembling in the aftershocks, your bodies slick with sweat and blissed out from the intensity of it all. Spencer stayed there, still buried inside of you, both of you just holding each other in the soft glow of the room, relishing the warmth, the closeness, the love.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blissful haze, wrapped in kisses, long cuddles, and moments of intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. Spencer shared his own stories, some quirky, some heartfelt, while you let him into corners of your past that had remained sealed for years.

One evening, as you were snuggled into his chest, the comforting scent of him surrounding you, you whispered something that had been tugging at the edges of your mind all weekend. “Aunt Erin started the nickname Red…” you murmured, your voice soft against the rise and fall of Spencer’s breathing. He said nothing but tightened his arms around you, letting you know he was listening. 

“But Mom and Dad called me Red too,” you continued, voice cracking slightly at the memories. “For Mom, it was a term of endearment, something she shared with her sister. It felt special... warm.” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “But for Dad… it was manipulative. He used it like some sort of charm, thinking if he called me by a special name, I’d forget everything—the pain, the anger—and welcome him back with open arms.” You swallowed, feeling the lump in your throat. “And then my sister... she started using it too. Only when she needed something—money, a place to crash. For a long time, it was tainted for me, a reminder of everything I wanted to forget.”

Spencer’s thumb stroked soothingly over your arm as you spoke, his quiet presence grounding you. “But you… you revived it for me,” you said finally, looking up into his warm, understanding eyes. “When you call me Red, it feels like it means something good again.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “I’ll always make sure it means something good. I promise.” 

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and contentment washing over you. In that little lakeside haven, all that existed was the two of you and the love you shared—everything else just melted away.

—

The trip was exactly what both of you needed. A chance to unwind, to just be together without the pressures of everyday life. When you returned the next day, Spencer was quick to ask if you could drop Poof off at your place and then come back to his apartment. He claimed it was just in case he got called away for a case in the middle of the night and needed to be near his things. But you knew better—it was really because he loved the way his sheets smelled like you when you were gone.

You didn’t argue, though. After all, the feeling was mutual, and you cherished any excuse to be wrapped up in Spencer’s space. So you made the trip back home, feeding Poof, and then promptly returned to his place to settle in for a relaxed night. The morning came too quickly, and he left for work with a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead and a spare key taped to the fridge with a note: “For whenever you need it. –S.”

Later, after you finally pulled yourself from the cozy bed and began to get ready for your day, you found yourself wandering around Spencer’s apartment, making coffee and searching for your favorite sweatshirt of his—the one that was ridiculously oversized, the one you loved to wrap yourself up in. Usually, it was draped over the back of the couch or hanging near the door, but today it was nowhere to be seen.

Thinking it might have just ended up back in his closet, you made your way there, rummaging through his neatly hung clothes. And there it was, folded on a shelf like it had been waiting for you. You reached for the familiar fabric, feeling the comforting softness in your hands, but as you moved it, something else caught your eye—a small box tucked away behind the stack of sweaters.

Your stomach twisted into knots when you read the label: Dilaudid

No. No, no, no. You felt your blood run cold, and for a moment, you were on autopilot. Hands trembling, you reached for the box and placed it on the bed, the world around you narrowing to just that single object. When you opened the lid, a flurry of papers greeted you—hospital discharge summaries, case files, rehab forms, and NA slips—all bearing Spencer’s name. Each one a piece of a puzzle you didn’t know existed, each one revealing a part of Spencer you had never seen before.

Your breathing grew shallow as you flipped through them, the weight of their contents heavy in your hands, in your heart. You knew what all of this meant; you'd lived through the nightmare of addiction with your own family. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to send your world spiraling, you found it—an unopened needle and a vial of Dilaudid. Enough to kill someone, enough to hurt, enough to drag someone back into the darkness you'd spent your whole life trying to escape.

Your world felt like it had tilted on its axis, everything you knew and trusted suddenly thrown into question. One thing you knew for certain—you couldn’t spend another second in Spencer’s apartment. You needed space to think, and every second you stayed in the apartment, surrounded by the echoes of this newfound reality, the more suffocating it felt. 

Quickly, you collected your things—your bag, your phone, absolutely not the sweatshirt that now felt so wrong to hold—and with a trembling hand, you grabbed the key Spencer had left on the fridge. As you locked the door behind you, a cold finality settled in, but then you just stood there, staring at the little gold key in your hand, paralyzed by indecision.

Do I leave it? Take it? Do I even want to come back here? Could there possibly be a good reason for why Spencer had kept this from me, for why he had hidden this massive part of himself? Your thoughts spiraled, but you couldn’t find a single strand to cling to.

Finally, shaking your head, you made your decision. You slid the key under the door, hearing the tiny scrape of metal on wood as it disappeared into the apartment you had thought was your safe place. And then you ran, down the stairs, through the lobby, to your car. You didn’t let yourself feel anything until you were back in your own home, the door shutting behind you like the closing of a chapter you didn’t know if you could reopen.

Sliding down to the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest and sobbed. All the memories came rushing back—the nights of worry, the fear of losing someone to the relentless pull of addiction, the feeling of not knowing what each day would bring. Even if Spencer wasn’t using now, even if this was something from his past, it didn’t stop the memories of your family from crashing over you like a tidal wave, dragging you under.

Poof, sensing your distress, padded over to you and rubbed his warm body against you, a small comfort in the chaos. He curled up in your lap, purring as you wrapped an arm around him, trying to steady your ragged breathing.

After what felt like hours, when the tears had finally slowed to silent streams, you wanted to call Aunt Erin, to demand answers, to understand. But the thought of telling her how you found out—of potentially risking Spencer’s job and livelihood—made you hesitate. And so you stayed there, on the floor of your apartment, crying softly as Poof purred in your lap, the comforting vibration of his presence the only thing grounding you in that moment.

—

Spencer had been looking forward to this moment all day—the idea of coming home to you, imagining what it would be like to share a space, to fall into that soft domesticity he craved so much. He fumbled with his keys, finally getting the door open, and stepped inside. “Y/N?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the empty apartment. No response. Maybe you were napping? “Darling?” he tried again, a little louder this time, hoping to hear your sweet voice drift in from another room.

The silence felt heavy, like something was wrong, but Spencer tried not to jump to conclusions. He wandered to the bedroom to change, figuring he could call you and ask if you were just out running an errand. But when he walked in, he immediately saw it—the box. It sat wide open on the bed, papers scattered as if someone had frantically sifted through it. 

All the air seemed to leave the room in that moment. Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat heavy and frantic, echoing in his ears as if the walls themselves were closing in. He rushed to the bed, hands shaking as he tried to close the box, to somehow undo what had been done. But it was too late. You had found it. You knew.

Fumbling for his phone, he tried calling you, hand slick with sweat as he pressed your contact and held it to his ear. The line rang, and rang, and rang until your voicemail picked up. “Hey, it’s Y/N, leave a message and—” Beep. 

He tried again, then again, desperation mounting with each missed call. “Y/N, please call me back. Just—just call me back, okay?” Each voice message grew more frantic, more pleading as he left you one after another, interspersed with shaky, jumbled texts trying to explain, trying to beg for a chance to talk.

Eventually, when it was clear you weren’t going to answer, Spencer felt his heart sink to depths he hadn’t known existed. You had shut him out. He was drowning in his own panic, guilt clawing at his insides like a living thing, and he felt like he had nowhere to go—no way to reach you, no way to make this right.

Swallowing thickly, and feeling like his pride was an irrelevant casualty in the wake of losing you, he called the only person who might know how to get through to you. “Agent Reid?” Strauss's voice was clipped, professional, and instantly cold. 

He tried to speak, but his voice cracked on the first word. “Strauss, it’s—it's Y/N, she found... everything. It was an accident. Please, just—can you check on her? I don't know where she is, I—” His voice broke, desperation clawing through the line.

Strauss let out a long, slow sigh. “You’re a moron,” she said simply, and then the line went dead. No reassurance. No promise to help. And that silence was the worst of all.

That night, Spencer barely moved from his spot on the bed. He sat, still fully dressed in his work clothes, the fabric wrinkling under the weight of his exhaustion as he curled around his phone, holding onto it like a lifeline. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot from the tears that he couldn’t stop, the grief for what he feared he’d lost seeping into every pore. 

The box still sat on the bed, its presence an accusation. A reminder of everything he had hidden, everything he might now lose. And in that moment, it felt like the walls of his apartment were closing in, trapping him in the silence of his own regret.

The morning light brought no solace to Spencer as he dragged himself out of bed, the weight of the previous day hanging over him like a storm cloud. His eyes were gritty and raw from the lack of sleep, his mouth dry as he went through the motions of getting ready for work, each step automatic. Splash water on the face. Brush teeth. Dress. His phone sat on the counter, silent—no new messages from you. Just the one from Strauss.

My office, first thing.

The words filled him with dread, and as he walked into the office, each step felt like he was dragging lead weights tied to his feet. When he reached Strauss’s office, she was already seated behind her desk, her expression a vicious, unreadable mask. He took the chair across from her, his back stiff as he prepared for the worst. 

“I spoke with Y/N,” Strauss said, her voice clipped, cutting like ice. Even just hearing your name was a punch to the gut. He winced, bracing himself. He had to know—whatever the truth was, he had to hear it. “And?” he managed to ask, the word barely a whisper, as if speaking louder would make it all too real.

Strauss’s gaze was sharp, unforgiving. “I’m not speaking as your unit chief when I say this—you fucked up, Spencer.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Spencer’s worst fear was crashing down around him. He could already feel the numbness setting in, dulling the pain, shutting down every emotion except the guilt that gnawed at his insides like acid. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Strauss continued, and though the words were steady and cold, each one landed like a bullet. 

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. There was nothing else to say, nothing to do but stand and leave, holding on to the last shred of composure he had left. Every step out of Strauss’s office was heavier than the last, each stride echoing in his ears as he made his way to his desk. He threw himself into his work with ferocity, desperate for a distraction, any distraction, to fill the void.

Meanwhile, miles away, you sat staring blankly at your laptop screen, trying to focus on the lines of code that blurred in front of you. But your mind was tangled in a mess of thoughts and questions, none of which had answers. What was he going to do with that dose? Is he still using? Was he going to use it all at once? Was he going to use it on me, like Dad did to Mom?

You hated how the questions came unbidden, every fear of your past dragging itself to the surface like an unrelenting tide. You couldn’t help but remember the night you found your parents—your father, using drugs to take your mother away. The thought that Spencer could be carrying anything like that darkness, even the slightest potential for harm, made your heart twist in agony. You loved him, but did you really know him? Could you trust him, after this? 

Every answer felt just out of reach, and all you could do was sit there, heart heavy and confused, trying to make sense of it all while feeling like the ground had dropped out from under your feet.

—

Three months had passed, a stretch of time that had felt both impossibly long and painfully short to Spencer. Three months since you’d walked out of his apartment, since the wall he’d carefully built around his heart had crumbled, since he’d been able to see you, touch you, speak with you. The only thing that got him through each day was work, the relentless cases that pulled him into the minds of others and away from his own chaos. But even then, in the rare moments of quiet, you still lingered in his thoughts.

Today, however, even work couldn’t serve as a distraction. Derek leaned on the edge of his desk, the grin on his face faltering when Spencer didn't meet his eyes. “Look, man,” Derek said, his tone soft, with that note of understanding that made Spencer want to crawl out of his own skin. “I know you’ve been bummed after your breakup with Y/N, but the team is going out tonight. You should come, it might cheer you up.”

Derek’s words, although well-intentioned, felt like a punch in the gut. He knew Derek meant well, and that the rest of the team did too, but they didn’t know the real reason things ended. Spencer couldn't tell them; it wasn’t just his story to share. He couldn’t explain the heartbreak that came from the discovery, the misunderstanding, the silence. All he could do was shake his head, eyes downcast as he muttered, “I’m good, man. Thanks though.”

Derek sighed deeply, clearly not ready to give up. “I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said, cracking his knuckles in a display of mock intimidation. “But if you don’t come out tonight, I’ll tell Penelope that you’re the one who spilled coffee on her favorite keyboard.”

Spencer’s head whipped around so fast he almost cricked his neck, his eyes wide with horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would, kid,” Derek nodded seriously, his expression deadpan but the mischief unmistakable in his eyes.

Spencer could see there was no way out. Derek had cornered him, and he knew Penelope’s wrath was something to be avoided at all costs. “Fine,” he conceded, huffing out a breath. “But only for a bit.”

Derek’s victorious fist pump made him chuckle despite himself. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Reid. We’ll have a blast, just wait.”

And so, later that evening, Spencer found himself tucked into a booth at the team's favorite bar, nursing a drink that burned his throat but warmed his insides. The atmosphere was light, almost buoyant—stories were exchanged, laughter flowed as freely as the drinks, and for once, he found himself genuinely enjoying the company without the constant ache that had settled in his chest since you left.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Spencer was starting to feel something close to relaxed. The chatter around the table and the warmth of his friends seemed to ease some of the tension in his body, if only for a little while. He could breathe, even laugh at times, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

As the team sat around their booth, the energy high and the laughter loud, Spencer was oblivious to what was about to unfold. It wasn't until Derek's loud whistle pierced the air, catching everyone's attention, that he noticed something had shifted. 

“Damn, who is that fine lady?” Derek smirked, his eyes fixed on a woman who was strutting across the bar in a purple dress that left little to the imagination. 

“God, that dress is basically lingerie,” Emily leaned in to whisper, sounding a mix of admiration and awe. “I want it.”

The team shared quick glances, some amused, some appreciative of the daring outfit that hugged the woman's body perfectly. Even Spencer's eyes lingered, caught by the vibrant shade of purple—his favorite color. She looked like she had stepped out of a dream, a vision of elegance and seduction that was hard to look away from. But her face was hidden beneath waves of hair, and the dim bar lighting made it difficult to make out her features.

After a few moments of admiring glances, the conversation returned to its usual flow—until a table of rowdy men called out loudly, catcalling and beckoning the woman over. As she walked closer, the team finally got a good look at her face, and all their eyes widened in shock. 

It was you.

Spencer’s heart dropped to his stomach, but he didn’t even have a chance to process what was happening before Derek nudged him sharply. He pointed in your direction, where you were now leaning over the table of men, the dress dangerously low-cut, and your cleavage all too exposed. For a moment, the sight of you, dressed so provocatively and surrounded by a group of ogling strangers, felt like a punch to his chest.

Without thinking, and fueled by the anger and confusion that came crashing over him like a wave, Spencer stood abruptly. He didn’t care about the table’s booing or the way the men protested as he stormed over. All he could think about was getting you away from them. He grabbed your arm and yanked you back, his grip firm, his eyes blazing. 

"Come with me," he demanded, his voice low and tight with emotions he didn’t know how to name.

You laughed as Spencer dragged you outside the bar, letting the breeze hit your face, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks. But as the realization of who was gripping your arm sunk in, the smile fell away. 

“Spencer! What the hell! Let me go!” you snapped, pulling your arm away and shaking him off with all the force you could muster.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat, his voice filled with anger and... something else you couldn’t quite place—hurt, maybe?

You only laughed bitterly in response, the sound sharp and humorless. “Oh, you mean besides getting dragged around by a liar? What are you doing?” You met his gaze defiantly, your words dripping with contempt.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he searched your face, noticing for the first time the redness in your eyes, the slight glaze that wasn't quite right. “Are you... Are you high?” His tone was almost disbelieving, as if he couldn't fathom what he was seeing.

You nodded exaggeratedly, barely stifling another giggle. “As a kite.”

His anger flared again, and he practically yelled, “Are you kidding me? You hate drugs! You hate everything to do with them, and now you’re... using?”

“It’s just weed, Spencer!” you shot back, your voice loud and edged with frustration. “Sorry if I needed to relax! I’ve had a lot on my mind, okay?” 

Spencer paused for a moment, clearly wrestling with how to respond, his eyes flickering between you and the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, your words spilling out with no filter, no restraint.

“What were you going to do with that dose, huh?” you challenged, your voice shaking. “Were you going to kill me, just like my daddy?”

The words hung in the air like a slap, and Spencer’s face paled, the color draining away as if you’d punched him. “Y/N, no. God, no—I... I don’t know...” He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. “I guess... I kept it around in case.”

“In case what?” you pressed, eyes narrowing, your anger boiling over. 

“In case I... wanted to...” He shook his head in frustration, unable to even finish the thought. “I don’t know! It’s stupid, but I just—”

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, disgust heavy in your voice. “How could you?”

“I haven’t touched it in years!” he protested desperately, his voice cracking with the weight of his plea. “I’m clean, Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but you wouldn’t let me explain! I’m not like your dad—I’m not.”

The comparison made something inside you snap, and before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning in close, your eyes boring into his as you hissed, “Once a junkie, always a junkie.” 

Spencer stood there, stunned, your words slicing through him like shards of glass. The hostility radiating off you was something he had never witnessed before, and it hurt—hurt in a way that made it hard to breathe, to think, to respond.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice shaking. He wanted to believe you didn’t mean it. That this was just the high talking, the anger, the frustration. “Y/N, please. You know I’m not like—”

But you cut him off with a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, Spencer, you are. You kept that shit around like some kind of lifeline, like a fucking safety net. How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to believe anything you say when you’re hiding something like that?”

He could see the pain and betrayal in your eyes, and it tore him apart. Spencer felt the weight of your words settle in his chest, heavy like a stone. He reached out to touch your arm, trying to ground you both, but you yanked away, the motion sharp and final.

"Y/N, please, I know it looks bad. I know it seems like I’m keeping something from you, but I swear to you I’ve been clean for years. I swear that it was never about you, it was just—" Spencer’s voice cracked, struggling to find the right words. “It was a part of my past I was ashamed of. I didn't know how to tell you without losing you.”

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and anger. “And now you have.” Your voice was low, trembling with barely contained rage. “You know, I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to help you through whatever you were struggling with. But you didn’t let me, Spencer. You made a choice to keep me in the dark. And now I’m supposed to what? Trust that you’ll never fall back into that?”

Spencer’s eyes were wet, brimming with desperation. “I would never do that to you. I swear, I would never—”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” you said, your voice cracking, betraying the emotions you were trying so hard to hold back. “I don't know if I can do this anymore. I can't keep looking at you and wondering when you're going to relapse or if you're hiding something else from me.”

He shook his head frantically, panic setting in as he reached for your hands. “Please don’t do this. Please, Y/N. I love you. I know I messed up, but let me make it right. Just—”

“You can’t fix this, Spencer. I don't think you can," you whispered, and you pulled away, turning from him. Your body felt heavy, like it was weighed down by all the anger and sorrow. And for a moment, all you could do was stand there, willing yourself not to break down in front of him.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. Finally, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to walk away, leaving Spencer standing alone in the cold night air, his heart shattered, his world upended.

He called after you, but his voice sounded far away, like it was drowned out by the noise in your head, the whirlwind of emotions that wouldn’t let up.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling the urge to get the last word in, knowing the wound it would leave. Slowly, you turned around, and your voice was ice-cold as you spoke. “Oh, and Spencer?”

He looked up, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes, desperate and raw. 

“For the record,” you said, the words burning on your tongue, “if you had just been honest about your past... I would've understood. I wouldn’t have judged you. No matter what happened, no matter how bad it was—I would've accepted you. I would've even helped you get rid of the box.” 

You watched as the hope drained from his face, the realization settling in. Then, without another word, you turned your back on him and left for good, leaving Spencer to stare after you, alone and devastated.

Your words cut through the air like a knife, leaving Spencer staring after you, the hope in his eyes collapsing into devastation. He felt like the ground beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move, couldn’t reach out, couldn’t make this right. 

As you walked away, the finality of your steps echoed louder than anything he’d ever heard before. Spencer’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest, and he couldn’t help but replay your words over and over: If you had just told me...

And just like that, the what-ifs became deafening. What if he’d been honest with you from the start? What if he’d trusted you with his pain, his struggle, his history? What if he hadn’t let fear dictate his actions? 

Spencer ran a trembling hand through his hair, his chest heaving with silent sobs as you disappeared from view, the night swallowing you whole. And with each step you took, he knew it was one step further from ever getting back what he’d lost. 

You had been willing to stay, to support him, to love him even at his lowest—if only he had given you the chance. 

But he didn’t. And now, the person he loved more than anything in the world was gone. All he could do was stand there, his hands trembling, his heart breaking, whispering into the empty night.

“I’m sorry... I'm so sorry, Red.” 

But it was too late.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 ; 𝘭𝘩43 ୨୧

➪ summary: y/n breaks her foot and is left alone in the hospital with no one to come pick her up, until she remembers her boyfriend's mom

➪ warnings: broken foot, hospitals

➪ word count: 2.0k

➪ file type: new fic

➪ sunny's notes: i legit remember getting this request back in february and i cannot believe i finally wrote it. i hope whoever sent this request for my valentine's day event found their way back to my blog and can read this. i feel so bad but i'm so happy i was able to write it and i hope whoever you are will enjoy it

© sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

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This is not how she envisioned her weekend to be like, cooped up in a hospital room with no one to talk to and nothing to do. She had no one to be with her as the doctor told her that her leg was broken, no one to help her home when she was finally able to be discharged, and no one to help take care of her. This truly had happened at the worst time. 

She fell down the stairs many times but never had this happened. She had never had a broken limb, let alone gone to the hospital for it. Usually, she just had a headache or a little soreness in the aftermath and once she woke up from a nap or took some pain medication she would be good as new.

Her parents were out of state at a conference for work and they couldn’t get a flight out until the weekend, though she didn’t even want to tell them this happened in the first place. Most of her friends were gone for spring break, probably with their own families. And Luke was still in Jersey playing hockey, which left her alone. She wasn’t even sure how she could get out of bed without the help of a nurse. 

She spent the past couple of days just watching whatever was on TV and scrolling through TikTok or Instagram, answering the occasional text from her parents asking about how she was doing. A nurse would come in every once in a while and ask the same question and three times a day she would be asked what she wanted to eat. If she was lucky, one of the nurses would bring her ice cream late at night. 

And today was the day the doctor came in and told her she was able to be discharged. After making sure everything was ready, she finally heard the dreaded question, “Who’s going to be taking you home?”

She stared at the doctor for a few minutes before shrugging, “Um, my parents are away for work and my friends are all home for spring break.”

The doctor nodded and then she spoke, “Boyfriend? Cousins? Aunts or Uncles?”

“Boyfriend is in Jersey for work, cousins all live in Texas along with all my aunts and uncles. So-” She hesitated, “I might have an idea.”

She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about calling her before, it was a good idea. However, y/n was still nervous about doing it. She was nervous that she would be interrupting whatever the older woman might be doing or if she would even take the time to come up here to get her. She thought they were on good terms, and what was the worst that could happen? She had already been here for a few days, what’s the harm in two more until her parents could make it back?

She hit the contact on her phone and then held it up to her ear, listening to the ringing that came from the speakers. Finally, the woman on the other line answered, “Hello?”

“Mrs. Hughes! It’s y/n!”

“Oh hi sweetheart, how’s it going?”

“Well, it could be better if I’m honest.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Ellen sat on her couch, waiting for her son’s girlfriend to respond. 

“I’m sort of, maybe, kind of, most definitely in the hospital.”

“You’re what?”

“Okay, it doesn’t sound as bad as it seems. I just fell down the stairs.”

Ellen sighed, she felt as if she was dealing with one of her sons at that moment, “You fell down the stairs and did what?”

Y/n’s words came out mumbled, now feeling extremely embarrassed by what had happened. The woman frowned and asked her to repeat her words, “I broke my foot.”

“Oh my… when did this happen, y/n?”

“A few days ago.” She looked down and started to pick at the thin blanket that lay across her lap. 

“And have you told anyone about this?”

“Well I told my parents but they’re in California for a work thing so they can’t be home until this weekend. And all of my friends are gone for spring break and well, Luke’s in Jersey so…”

“You know he would drop everything to come to you, right?”

“Yeah, I just wanted him to focus on hockey. But that’s why I called you. I was wondering if you could help me get back to my dorm?”

“Yeah of course, Just give me an hour or two okay?”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Hughes.”

And then y/n just sat there, waiting for Ellen to arrive so she could finally go home and be in the comfort of her dorm and bed. She talked to the doctor briefly, explaining that someone would be able to pick her up in the next couple of hours and that she’d be out of their hair. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Y/n was finally asleep, curled up in the guest room at the Hughes’ house. After Ellen arrived to take her home, she argued with the girl to get her to stay at their house. It took a lot of convincing and one look from the woman until she agreed. She didn’t want her to feel obligated to take care of her, but Ellen was more than happy too. 

With some decent food and some medicine, she fell asleep quickly while watching one of Luke’s games she hadn’t been able to watch. She missed him, she wanted nothing more than for him to be by her side and take care of her but she knew he had a job to do so she didn’t want to distract him from it. 

Once she fell asleep, Ellen took this as her chance to call her son and tell him what happened, she knew y/n wouldn’t so she would. It took a few rings but Luke finally answered with sleep lacing his voice, “Hm? Mom?”

“Hey, Luke.”

“What’s up?” Luke turned over in his bed, wrapping his comforter around him as he did so. He kept his eyes closed and pushed his head deeper into his pillow.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about y/n.” He sat up quickly, immediately wincing at the sudden dizziness he felt. 

“What’s wrong?”

“She fell down the stairs again.”

He snorted, “Shocker.”

“And she broke her foot.”

“She what?” Now he was standing in the middle of his room, sweatpants hung low on his hips with no shirt on as he ran his free hand through his hair, “Is she okay? Where is she? Did she go to the hospital?”

“She’s fine, Luke. She’s here at the house, her parents wouldn’t be able to get here until the weekend and I didn’t want her staying in her dorm by herself. And yes she went to the hospital.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“She’s sleeping right now. I can probably say that this is the best sleep she’s gotten in the past few days so I don’t want to wake her. I also knew that she wouldn’t tell you which is why I called.”

Luke frowned before speaking, “I’ll be there soon.”

“Luke…”

“Nope, I’m not budging on this. I’ll be down there probably by late tonight or early tomorrow morning. I’ll text you when I land. Bye, mom.” 

With that, Ellen was left shocked standing in her kitchen. She had expected Luke to freak out, but she didn’t expect him to drop everything to come here. Well, maybe she had and that’s why she called him. She knew y/n needed him, especially when this had happened. 

A few hours later she could hear thuds from the guest room and immediately made her way up the stairs, hoping y/n hadn’t tried to get out of bed. When she walked in she was relieved to see her sitting on the bed, glaring at the floor. She quirked an eyebrow, “Everything okay?”

“I dropped the remote.”

Ellen chuckled at her, making her way over to where the remote sat. She picked it up and handed it to her before moving to walk towards the hallway again.

“Mrs. Hughes?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Would- would you stay with me, please? I haven’t really talked to anyone-”

“I would be happy to.” Ellen took the space next to her, watching as y/n continued to scroll through Netflix to find something to watch. 

It wasn’t long before the girl fell asleep again, the woman chuckling softly before she carefully got off the bed and walked back downstairs. She looked at her phone, noticing a text from Luke that he was on his way from the airport. Ellen sighed before finishing doing last-minute things around the house, including making some dinner for both Luke and y/n. 

Luke showed up about an hour later, pulling into the driveway. He practically ran through the doors, looking around frantically for his girlfriend or his mom. His eyes finally landed on his mom who was in the kitchen making dinner, “Mom!”

She turned around, “Hi, Luke. She’s in the guest room, but be careful, she’s still sleeping.”

“Okay, thank you for taking her here.”

Her eyes softened, “Of course.” She watched as he ran up the stairs as quietly as he could and smiled.

Meanwhile, Luke knocked softly on the guest room door and after a few seconds, he walked in. His frown seemed to deepen when his eyes laid upon the cast that was on her foot. He sighed and walked over to the bed, kneeling so his face was in front of hers.

He brushed a strand of hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear as he smiled. The movement startled her softly, causing her eyes to flutter open. She blinked at the person in front of her confusedly, not sure why there was a stranger in her room. Once her eyes adjusted, they went wide with surprise, “Luke?”

“Hi, sweet girl.”

“What- What’re you doing here?”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek before helping her sit up against the headboard. He took his spot on the side of her legs, sitting sideways on the bed. His hand rested on her calf, slowly moving it up and down to provide comfort, “Mom called me.”

“Oh, I told her not to.”

“She told me that too.”

Y/n threw her head back against the headboard, sighing, “Didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Interrupt me? Baby, you were sitting in the hospital for two days with no one to call or take care of you. You don’t have to worry about interrupting me, especially with something like that.”

She nodded, biting her lip out of habit. He rolled his eyes and reached out to tug it away from her teeth, “You know I hate when you do that.”

“Yeah yeah.” 

Luke chuckled softly, his thumb lingering on her lips briefly before dropping his hand back to her leg. "I mean it," he said gently. "You never have to feel like you're bothering me."

Y/n sighed again, though there was a hint of relief in it this time. "I just didn't want to make a big deal. It’s not like I broke anything important."

"Not important?" Luke raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with her attempt at brushing it off. "You broke your foot, y/n. That’s pretty important."

"Well, yeah, but it’s not like I can’t—"

"Stop," he interrupted, his voice firm yet still soft. "Stop pretending like you don’t matter." He squeezed her calf gently, drawing her attention back to him. "You matter to me. Everything about you matters to me. And if you’re hurt, I’m gonna be here. Every time. Got it?" 

Her eyes softened as she looked at him, feeling the weight of his words settle around her. “Got it,” she whispered, the edge of her lip quirking into a smile.

He smiled back, "Good." After a minute, he stood up. "Now, what do you need? Water? Food? Pain meds?"

"I’m okay," she replied, watching him carefully. "Just…stay?"

His face softened even more at her request. Without a word, he sat back down, this time pulling her carefully into his arms, mindful of her injured foot. Y/n rested her head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat easing her lingering discomfort. Luke kissed the top of her head softly and let out a content sigh.

“Always,” he whispered into her hair.

𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗝𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@blakesbearsblog @toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @prettyjoseph @nicole01-23 @auriesphantom @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43 @petite-potato4 @thehuggybearslover @absolutelyhugh3s @kei943 @dyslecticdutchman @this-ass-is-eikonic @delilahhcky

© sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[thewritingrowlet]

The Twins and Their Queens pt. 2, ft. STAYC Seeun

tags: blowjob, creampie, hot seat

length: 8k+

author's note: sorry, I've been pretty busy with work and other irl stuff.

-

“Did he just—”

You nearly can’t believe your ears. Your brother just so nonchalantly admitted that his wife was sucking him off. You scratch your head, only realizing now that you should’ve taken the time difference into account before calling him—you could’ve called earlier (or perhaps later) and not caught them having sex.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s illegal,” Seeun breaks the silence, “they’re consenting adults and legally married, aren’t they?” “I know, but still, I don’t feel comfortable hearing such words from him—it somewhat feels disrespectful, too,” you say. She moves to kneel between your legs that are dangling off the edge of the bed. “If you’re not comfortable hearing it, perhaps you’re comfortable receiving it?” You take a deep breath so that you can turn your focus on your girlfriend. “Perhaps,” you say with a smile, “please, noona.”

Seeun frees you of your joggers, pulling down your boxers together as she does. “Oh, you’re ready for noona, aren’t you?” You inhale sharply as you feel her soft hands stroking your shaft. “I’m always ready for you, noona; I’m your boyfriend after all.” “I never thought I’d date someone younger than me,” she chuckles, “anyway, time for my breakfast.”

Your girlfriend takes your tip in her mouth, her gaze still locked with yours. “Please,” you say, almost too quietly. She winks at you and starts going down your length, the wetness of her mouth giving you goosebumps everywhere. “That’s so good, fuck,” a praise flies out of your lips as you pet her head gently. One of the many things you’ve learned about Seeun is that she loves praise. To her, it’s like getting a shot of excitement and confidence that gives her the spirit to do her best, especially during sex.

Today is no different, obviously. With your encouraging praise circling in her head, she finds the determination to take the entirety of your shaft in her mouth, and you can feel the tip of your cock hitting the back of her throat. “Fuck, that’s crazy,” you mindlessly comment. She removes you from her mouth and promptly takes a deep breath. “You liked that, didn’t you, baby?” You reach for her face and wipe some tears off her cheeks. “Of course I did, but you don’t have to force yourself to tears like this,” you say. Seeun rubs her cheek against your palm like a cat. “You’re so sweet, baby—you might be young, but you certainly don’t lack kindness and maturity,” she assesses. You chuckle. “Please, I’m only 10 months younger than you.”

Seeun says that she wants to finish the job and won’t take no for an answer, so you sit still and let her do what she wants with you. If she prioritized going deep earlier, she now opts to go fast, eager to make you cum first thing in the morning. “Fuck,” you let a profanity fly out of your lips when you feel her tongue running back and forth on the underside of your cock. “I really can’t last long if you keep doing it like this,” you say. “Feew fwee fo cuw,” she utters unintelligibly, and you guess that you’re welcome to cum whenever.

You know that you’re inching closer towards your first orgasm as time goes. “Noona,” you utter with heavy breaths, “please, I’m so close.” Seeun plants her hands on your knees and starts bobbing her head faster, and that’s when an idea enters your mind: what if you thrust forward and meet her in the middle?

To find out, you place your hands on the back of her head and thrust forward, timing it with her movements to ensure maximum pleasure. “Fuck, this is crazy,” you think. With a grunt, you send your first load of the day into her mouth, and Seeun does her best to not panic as her mouth and throat are flooded. After your shaft has stopped spurting out every last drop of your cum, she removes you from her mouth and swallows everything swiftly.

You fall backwards limply onto your back. “We were supposed to get breakfast,” you say weakly. Seeun giggles. “I don’t know about you, but I did get my breakfast.” She joins you in bed and pulls you into her warm embrace. “You did so well, noona—maybe too well,” you praise her one more time. “Aww, you’re so sweet, babe,” she replies, peppering your head with kisses after.

-

You take a lap around the buffet area while holding hands with Seeun, checking out what options you have for breakfast. “Anything catches your fancy, babe?” She asks as her eyes scan the bread counter. “I want that,” you point at a jar of blueberry jam, “I’ll get that on a toast first and then figure out what I’m eating next.” Seeun pouts. “I don’t like blueberry jam—I want peanut butter.”

Without breaking the tangle, you grab a slice of bread, put some butter on it, and drop it in the toaster. Seeun then does the same, which makes you realize something. “Sometimes I forget that you’re left-handed,” you comment. She giggles cutely. “There’s a reason I’m always on your left, babe.”

A ding from the toaster steals your attention, and when you look, both your and her slice of bread are cooked perfectly. “Remind me to get a toaster when we get back, noona—I want to have toasts every morning.” You place the toasts side by side on the same plate, and as unfortunate as it is, you have to let go of her hand. Seeun lets out a grunt to express her disapproval, but you make sure to quickly tend to your toast and then return your hand to its previous position. “I’d like to see you spread peanut butter on your toast with one hand,” you challenge her. She clicks her tongue in playful mockery and quickly smear peanut butter on her toast. “Do you want to see me do it again?”

You look at your surroundings to see if there are people nearby—there’s only that couple sitting at that table in the far corner of the dining area. You pull your girlfriend by her hand until she’s right in front of you. “I love you, Yoon Seeun—I love you lots.” Your words draw a big smile on her face. “I love you too, babe,” she replies, “are you going to kiss me, or no?” Such a question requires no verbal answer—why use your lips to say your answer, if you can use them to show your answer instead?

You hum in satisfaction when you feel her soft lips gently pinching yours, and you swear that time has stopped ticking for you to really savor the intimacy of the kiss. The tangle feels even more complete when you feel Seeun’s palm on your chest. All the while, your heart is screaming at her, “I love you! I love you with everything I have!”

Seeun pulls away from the kiss, leaving you stunned for a short moment. “Let’s have breakfast first, babe—we can figure out what to do after.” Her voice snaps you out of your stupor. “Yeah,” you shake your head to regain focus, “yeah, let’s have breakfast.” You scan your surroundings again and see that there’s a woman around your brother’s age looking at you and your girlfriend, but she breaks eye contact when your eyes briefly meet. “We are both consenting adults; this is fine,” you tell yourself.

You sit at a table near the buffet with Seeun, pulling back a chair for her first before sitting down yourself. “I don’t know how people can dislike blueberry jam,” you comment as you chew your first mouthful. “It’s hit-or-miss most of the time; sometimes it’s too sweet and tastes artificial, other times it’s… meh,” she argues. As you think about her argument, you realize that this jam is indeed quite sweet. “Yeah, it is kind of sweet,” you admit. “Your girlfriend is already sweet enough—why look for other sweet things?” “Says the blushing girl,” you counter, earning a little kick under the table from Seeun.

-

“Mr. Moon, we’re ready; we’re near the buses,” you say to Mr. Moon, your family’s chauffeur, over the phone. “Please wait a second, sir,” he replies. You look to your right where traffic starts and see your car making the turn towards the passenger pickup lane—perhaps not a second but he’s still pretty quick.

With the help of Mr. Moon, you and Seeun put your stuff in the trunk. “Where to now, sir?” You ask him to first make a stop at your apartment building so that your girlfriend can rest and then take you to Han Group’s company building after that. “Of course, sir,” he says.

Once the car starts rolling, Seeun rests her head on your thighs. “Ugh,” she grunts. Her long legs must be bent because of the limited space of the car’s interior. “We’ll get home soon, love—please be patient,” you whisper, comforting her with soft pets on the head.

-

“Excuse me, sir,” Mr. Moon breaks the silence, “we’re here.” You didn’t know that you fell asleep, and when you look around, you see that you’re parked in front of your apartment building. You poke Seeun to get her to wake up, but she doesn’t budge. “I’ll take her upstairs and then come back to you, Mr. Moon.”

You pull Seeun out of the car and put her on your shoulder. Your same-floor neighbors (and a bunch of others) know that you’re dating her, so you don’t have to worry about explaining why you’re carrying her limp body like an abductor. That said, considering the time and day, there shouldn’t be too many people at this building.

You make it to your unit after a short elevator ride and walk. While Seeun lies asleep in bed, you write down a note for her to read when she wakes up. The note reads,

“Love, darling, sweetie,

You fell asleep in the car so we went home first so that you could sleep more comfortably in our bed. In the meantime, I’ll be in the office and talk to the big boss about some stuff.

Please don’t panic. I’ll be home soon.

Yours always,

Shaun.”

For good measure, you poke her a few times until she shows signs of consciousness. “Noona, I’ll be at the office for a bit; I need to make a quick report to my brother. See you later, okay?” Seeun lets out a hum through the tiny gap of her lips, and you’d like to think that she’s got the message. “Cool,” you put on a thumbs-up for yourself, “see you later, noona.”

-

Harvey’s secretary has told you that he’s still in his office, so you swiftly make your way there and deliver some news that you think he’d like to hear.

You knock on his door and promptly hear him telling you to come in. As you enter, your eyes land on the gap between the hanging back support of his desk and the floor—there’s a woman kneeling between his legs. “For your sake, Mr. Han, I seriously hope that’s Yooyeon-noona,” you comment in a serious tone. Harvey smiles at you, and that’s when you see his wife getting on her feet. “H-Hi, Shaun,” she greets you with red cheeks.

“First, you told me oh-so-casually that time that she was sucking you off, and now, you told me to walk in while she’s sucking you off,” you let your annoyance be known. “Where’s your respect for me, Han Hyunjin—shit, better yet, where’s your respect for your wife?” You don’t say your brother’s name in full a lot, so he knows the seriousness of it when you actually do. “Shaun, please, I’m sorry,” he tries to quench your fire, “I don’t—” “Just zip up your fucking pants and talk to me when you’re actually ready. I’ll wait outside with Miss Park—don’t worry, I won’t ask her to suck my dick.”

You storm out of his office huffing and puffing, ignoring his calls to stay, feeling annoyed and disappointed with how your brother behaves (especially since it’s still working hours). “Sir? Are you okay?” Miss Park nervously looks at you when she sees you crashing into the chair on the other side of her desk. “I am, Shion-ah. My problem is with my brother, not with you, so don’t worry,” you say, still panting heavily from the emotions.

The landline on her desk rings. “Good afternoon. Park Shion speaking,” she says into her phone. After a short conversation, you hear her say, “Yes, sir; I will inform him so.” “Mr. Han, the director is ready for you,” she forwards the message to you. You take a few deep breaths to calm down before leaving your seat. “Thank you, Shion-ah.”

You don’t bother knocking this time, opting to just push the door as wide as it’ll open. “Shaun,” Harvey says calmly, “please come in.” Seeing red, you rush towards your brother who’s standing in front of his desk. Yooyeon stands in the middle of you and him, acting as a barrier to make sure no one hurts the other. “You sent me to New York and told me to come see you right after I got back, and this is how you welcome me? I just got off the damn plane, you asshole!”

Yooyeon plants her hands on your chest and gently pushes you backwards. “Shaun, please don’t yell at your brother like that,” she says in a trembling voice, tearing up as she does, “the idea was mine, so please blame me.” You roll your eyes and move to take a seat. “I don’t want to waste more time; I have a girlfriend to take care of—do you want to hear this report or not?”

Harvey reaches his hand out towards your shoulder, but you slap it away. “Believe me, you don’t want to touch me right now,” you warn him. You can tell that he’s very hurt by your attitude, but this will be a valuable lesson to everyone. “Okay,” he wipes his glassy eyes, “please start, Mr. Han.”

After calming down, you open your mouth and start briefing him on the tasks you’ve accomplished during the New York trip. You had a meeting with Bloom Inc. at their office, and without prior briefing, you found out that Bloom had invited one of their partners, Han Industries, that had previously expressed their interest in joining the partnership with us and Bloom. “Han? Like us?” You nod. “Big boss is named Han Jinwoo,” you tell him. “If you remember the OreQuest uproar from a few years ago, that’s one of his companies.” Harvey nods, seemingly deep in thoughts. “We’ll have to look into it more. Thank you, Shaun, you did very well.” You wiggle your index finger. “I want a bonus for this; it wasn’t easy, you know.” “Say your numbers and I’ll figure it out,” he adheres to your demand.

You stand up from your seat and hand him a flash drive. “There’s some stuff in there that you might want to look at.” As you make your way out of his office, you remember something. “Oh, I almost forgot—happy anniversary.” Harvey accepts your message with a small smile, so you turn your back again and continue walking out of his office.

Yooyeon chases you outside and holds your wrist to stop your fast steps. “Shaun, I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m not a bad influence on your brother, though, I swear.” You shrug. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to—it’s yourself. Give yourselves some more respect and don’t talk about sex so openly and carelessly next time because I, for example, don’t give a shit.”

-

You arrive at your apartment again after meeting your brother. When you open the bedroom door, you see that Seeun is in the same position you left her in: right in the center of the bed with her head on a pillow. “Well, at least you’re dressed comfortably.”

After getting changed yourself, you’re now ready to join her in bed. You slowly climb onto her body and rest your head on her chest. “Noona, I’m home,” you whisper. “Baby,” you hear a whisper back from her, “welcome home.” You can feel all the exhaustion that has been weighing down on your body starting to melt away. “You’re so warm, noona.” Seeun doesn’t say anything this time—unfortunate but understandable; she’s sleeping, after all.

-

Soft pets on the back of your head make you stir awake. “Baby, you’re home,” Seeun says in a soft tone. “How long have you been here for?” Your partially awake brain can’t comprehend her question. “Sorry?” Your girlfriend chuckles. “Ah, don’t worry about it. You’re here with me, and that’s the most important thing right now.”

You yawn audibly. “I’m tired, noona.” The pets she’s giving get more intense, as if trying to scrub the tiredness off your body. “Oh, baby, what can I do for you?” “Just stay like this, please,” you say.

This is what you’re looking for in dating someone older than you: relying on someone and being taken care of when you need it. Now, of course, you try and not forget about your part, and make sure you can be that reliable person and take care of your significant other, Seeun, when she needs it.

“Noona,” you move on to the next subject, “you know how my brother asked me to see him right after we arrived, right?” “Yeah, and you went to the office earlier for that—what about it?” You told her how you walked in to the sight of him getting a blowjob from his wife and how angry you got because of it. “It felt disrespectful, you know; we just arrived in the city and shit.” “Language, baby,” she says softly. “I understand why you were frustrated, but still.” You can’t help but sigh. “I made it clear to them that I don’t give a fu—erm, frick—about their sex life and that I don’t want to see anything like that again.”

Seeun says that she’s satisfied with how you handled the situation but also wishes you had had more self-control. You want to protest, but you decide against it; it’s probably best to just accept her words and put it behind you. “I’m sorry for venting at you like that—I mean, you just woke up,” only now do you feel bad about this. Seeun kisses your head repeatedly while assuring you that it’s fine and that she’d rather have you talk about it and quickly move on.

You lift your head off her chest and look at right in the eyes. “I love you, noona,” you say, “like, I love, love, love you.” “I love you too, baby,” she says, a big grin decorating her beautiful features. “Eh, actually, I love you more,” Seeun corrects herself.

“Baby,” Seeun calls for your attention, “can we get something to eat?” “We can—what do you want to have?” She taps her chin as she thinks about it. “Can we get fried chicken?” You’re reminded that she has been craving fried chicken since before going to New York. “We sure can, noona,” you agree to her suggestion.

With a grunt, you gather your might and get off her body, and that is you see a pout on her face. “What’s wrong?” Seeun crosses her hands. “I didn’t say we should go there ourselves,” she gives you a hint. You blink a few times as you think about what she’s trying to say. “Oh,” you palm your face as realization hits, “you want them delivered here, don’t you, noona?” Seeun bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, your face is soooo funny.” She pulls you into her arms again. “You’re so cute, I swear to God,” she says, still giggling.

-

The food delivery app says that your orders have been dropped off outside your door.

Seeing that Seeun is peacefully sleeping, you go get the goodies yourself. You put the big bag on the dining table and unpack it. “Honey barbecue and sweet-n-spicy—nice, we have everything.”

You hear the bedroom door swing open, and when you look, you see your sleepy girlfriend, whose eyes are barely open, standing at the door. You come in for a kiss, which is your favorite way to get her to wake up, and as expected, Seeun puts a hand on your chest, like she usually does. “So soft,” she mutters, “your kiss always feels—” You interrupt her with one more kiss—one that’s deeper and more passionate. “Okay, you need to stop right there, young man, or you’re going to have to take responsibilities,” she warns.

You drag her by her hand towards the dining table that you’ve organized for her. “I have some honey barbecue chicken for you, noona,” you say, your voice laced with excitement. Based on her expressions, you notice that something is amiss. “No fries,” Seeun utters softly. “Oh my God, I forgot.” You slap your forehead for forgetting to order fries. “Would you like to have fries, noona? We can place another order,” you offer her a solution. Your girlfriend shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, baby,” she declines. “Come, let’s eat.”

Seeun lets out a high-pitched hum at the first taste. “Amazing as always,” she says with a full mouth. The way she’s eating makes you hungry beyond measure, so you pick up a piece from your box and immediately take a bite. “Meh,” you’re underwhelmed, “not as spicy as usual.” “Receipt says it’s level 1, babe,” says Seeun. “Level 1? I didn’t choose level 1,” you furrow your eyebrows. You don’t know how it ended up like this or who is at fault, but you’re not really in the mood to figure it out, so you grab a bottle of hot sauce from the pantry and make it to your liking. “Yeah, this is more like it,” you comment at the revised taste.

Seeun’s phone lights up and shows a floating notification on the lock screen. “Your brother is inviting us to his house tomorrow,” she says. You are disappointed that he’s avoiding you and opting to reach you through Seeun, but it’s also understandable since he doesn’t want to risk making you angry again. “For—” “Shane and Jiwoo are engaged, and your brother wants to celebrate it together,” she interrupts you with additional information. “Good for them; Shane is so in love with her.”

“What about you?” Seeun’s question forces you to stop eating and drop your chicken. “Excuse me?” “Are you in love with me?” In your head, there’s only one answer, which is yes, you are in love with her, but you first refrain from saying it—what if she’s hinting at something else? “Yes,” you start, “I am in love with you and would love to stay with you long term.” Your firm and resolute tone provides assurance that you mean it wholeheartedly. “Great to hear,” she says with a smile.

You take a deep breath before continuing your point. “Noona, if you’re wondering when I’ll be proposing to you, then the answer is soon. I’m still working on becoming the best version of myself, because you deserve the best of me, the same way I deserve the best of you.” Seeun puts on a sweet smile for you. “I know, baby, but at the same time, you don’t have to worry about it too much—you’re already such a nice person, you know.”

You thank her for the flattery, but you know that you still need to work on your patience (among other things); it could be disastrous if at one point you lash out at Seeun the same way you did at your brother. “Hey, baby,” Seeun steals your attention, “I told you, don’t worry about it—you’ll be just fine.”

-

You find yourself lying in bed with Seeun after finishing those boxes of chicken. She says she wants to switch and be on top this time, so you take the position on the bottom. “It’s nice to change every now and then, isn’t it, babe?” “It sure is—I must admit, though, I like cuddling you from the top.” Seeun pinches your cheek. “You like it because you can lie on my breasts, you little pervert.” You burst out laughing. “Well, you caught me.”

“Speaking of breasts,” she plants her hands on your chest, “I want you, baby—please.” “Really?” It doesn’t hurt to make sure (or perhaps tease). Seeun sticks her lips on your neck to show you that she’s serious. “Oh, you really want me, don’t you?” The answer to your question is the increased intensity of stimulation on your neck. “Noona, not too much, please; we still have work tomorrow,” you try to make her stop.

Seeun leaves your neck and hovers closely over your face. “If you bring up work in bed again, I will put a tape on your mouth,” she threatens. “Noona, what are you talking about? What is this?” You’re concerned about how she’s acting, because this isn’t how you and she do things usually. Even on days when she’s very desperate for your touch, she never talks like this.

Seeun closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Just… please don’t bring up work; I’m just desperate for your touch,” she rearranges her words. You place a hand on the side of her face, rubbing it gently. “That’s more like it,” you say, “you know I’ll always try to be available for you, but you need to ask kindly, noona.” With teary eyes, Seeun apologizes profusely, and even though you assure her that it’s okay, she just wouldn’t stop.

“Oh, God, what’s wrong with me,” tears escape her eyes in abundance, “you’re trying to become the best man you can while I’m being such a terrible woman.” “Oh, love,” you pull out a new endearment from the bag, “please, don’t say such thing; you were just too eager—” No!” Seeun screams, denying your attempt at comforting her. “I-I’m a bad girlfriend and deserve to be punished.”

Seeun pulls you into a sitting position before bending over your lap. “Punish me, love.” “Punish you how? I already told you that it’s okay,” you reason. “Just do it, please—make me take responsibilities.” “Fine, if you insist.” You pull down her shorts, thus exposing her soft and round butt cheeks, and rub them gently. “God, I really don’t want to hurt her.” As if hearing your thoughts, Seeun tells you to “make it hurt.”

You lift a hand while your eyes stay locked on the target. “Here I go, love,” you signal. You close your eyes and take a swing at her butt, and the scream she lets out at the impact is heartbreaking. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you take your turn to apologize. “That was too hard, wasn’t it, love?” Seeun shakes her head. “N-no, that was good—do it again, babe; we’re not even yet.”

You lift your hand again and place your gaze on the target—the previous hit has left a red mark in the shape of your palm, and you swear that your heart is being wrung like wet laundry. “Love, here I go again,” you signal, tearily this time. Seeun braces for impact, and you take a swing right there. “Fuck, that was too hard,” you regret failing to control your strength. “Can we stop now? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Seeun says she doesn’t want to end on an even number and asks to be hit once again, much to your anguish. You decide to do it quickly this time so that you can just move on to helping her cope with the pain you’ve caused. “FUCK!” She screams one last time after the last hit, marking the end this whole “punish me” show.

“Love—my love,” you gently pull her into your arms, seated on your lap. “I’m sorry, that must’ve hurt so bad, right?” “T-that’s okay, I deserved it,” she insists. “No, you don’t,” you insist back. “I hated that shit, noona. I don’t want to hurt you like that ever again.” “I-I mean, it’s good to know that y-you’re capable of it. Who knows if one day we might need to do it again?” No, you’re certain that you would never need to do it again, but there’s no point in making another counterargument at the moment; you’d rather spend your energy in helping her recover.

-

Sleeping counts as recovering, doesn’t it, because that’s what you and Seeun have been doing for a few hours now—at least until you’re awoken at this odd hour, and for some reason, you feel refreshed and are wide awake.

Your senses pick up the signs of her presence with no trouble; her smell is in your nose, her subtle snores are in your ears, and her skin is touching yours (not the entirety of but still enough).

You place one hand on her butt that you hit thrice a few hours ago, hoping that doing so will make you feel less bad about it. “I’m so sorry about that, my love,” you whisper softly right into her ear. You’re slightly startled when you hear a hum from Seeun, but no, she’s still asleep.

An idea enters your mind: what if you try singing for her? You’re somewhat okay at singing and there’s this song that you’ve been obsessed with recently. You clear your throat slightly to prepare, and here goes nothing:

Be my only one

이렇게 부르고 싶은 이름 내 곁에 (The name I want to call you by)

손을 잡고서 같이 걸어요 (Let’s hold hands and walk along)

비가 오는 밤에도, 외로웠던 낮에도 (On rainy nights, or on lonely daytimes)

그대 환한 빛깔을 내게 가득 칠해줘요 (Please color me with your shiny light)

내가 더 잘할게요, 이렇게 같이 있어준다면 (I’ll do better, if you stay with me like this)

You let out a giggle after singing out that short bit; there’s something exciting about singing to your beloved lady while she’s asleep. “Good… voice,” you hear Seeun whisper quietly. “I love you, baby, and I mean every word I just said.” It’s fine if she doesn’t say anything back; at least you’ve gotten it off your chest.

Much to your surprise, Seeun gives you a peck on the side of your face. “I love you, baby.” “Are you awake, love?” You feel her nodding against your cheek. “How can I sleep when my boyfriend sings for me?” Her praise makes you blush. “Oh, it’s nothing—I’m glad you liked it, though.”

“What time is it, babe?”

“I don’t know, but it’s probably a few hours before sunrise.”

“I want to sleep again.”

You pet her back like she was a baby you’re trying to send to sleep. “Let’s go back to sleep, love. We’ll let the alarms wake us up.” Seeun yawns aloud. “Promise me that you’ll touch me tonight.” “We’re going to my brother’s house tonight, no?” She grunts. “Surely you’re not rejecting me.” “We’ll see what we can do after we get back from his house, okay? I can promise you that, love.” She yawns once again. “Deal.”

-

You knock on the bedroom door and ask if she’s ready to leave for your brother’s house. “Come here, babe, please,” she says from the other side of the door. You enter to see if she needs help choosing what to wear. “What’s—oh.” Seeun hasn’t put on any clothes yet. “Why are you naked, love?” You ask while your eyes scan her from top to bottom.

She approaches you with open arms, wrapping them around you when she’s within hugging distance. “I was trying to see if maybe you’re in the mood for a quick one,” she says. You put on a soft smile for her. “It’s not that I’m not in the mood, love, but you know that I’d rather have a longer session,” you try to convince her to save it for later. Seeun shakes her head. “You’re really lucky I love you; otherwise, I’d leave you for denying me sexual pleasures.” “I’m not denying you anything, love,” you make sure your voice is as gentle as possible. “I’m just asking you to be patient,” you say, despite how you’re starting to get hard.

Convinced, Seeun asks you to leave the bedroom so that she can put on some clothes. “I’m asking you to be patient, he says,” Seeun airs her frustration into the empty bedroom. “You’re really lucky I love you, Shaun.” She clears her head of other thoughts and turns her focus on choosing what clothes to wear tonight. Seeun opts for a plain white T-shirt paired with a black cardigan. She also puts on brown canvas pants to complete the look.

-

When you arrive at Harvey’s house, you see that Shane’s car is parked in the driveway, leaving one vacant space for you since Harvey’s is probably kept in the garage. You quickly pull in next to Shane’s car and get out of yours with Seeun. “This feels like a reunion,” Seeun comments.

As you’re about to knock on the door, it swings open, thus revealing the man of the house on the other side. “Welcome, Shaun—thanks for coming,” Harvey greets you with open arms, and you wonder if he’s moved on from your lashing out. You think that it wouldn’t hurt to hug him (it is the usual form of greeting among you and your brothers, anyway). “The pleasure is mine, hyung,” you say softly into his ear.

Harvey lets you free and then turns to Seeun. “Hi, cookie,” he greets her. “How was New York?” “It was cool, oppa; I couldn’t have enough of the food.” He chuckles. “Well, we can exchange stories later. Let’s get inside for now, hm?”

Harvey leads you to the dining room, where Yooyoen, Shane, and Jiwoo are waiting for you. “Shaun,” Yooyeon greets you awkwardly. You approach her and pull her into a quick hug. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” you whisper to her. “That’s okay; I understand where you were coming from,” she whispers back. “Have a seat, Shaun.”

You sit next to Shane while Seeun sits right across you and next to Jiwoo, who immediately leans against her shoulder. As the man and woman of the house, Harvey and Yooyeon sit at opposing ends of the rectangular table that’s full of food. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Harvey starts. “We are gathered here today to celebrate Shane and Jiwoo’s engagement and to wish them luck and happiness in their new stage of life.”

You put an arm around Shane from the side. “I left the two of you to go to New York for a few days, and you took a head start, Shane?” “Look, man,” he whispers back, “it was a mess, ‘kay? I was so stumped and proposed on the damn sofa.” Nonetheless, you congratulate him on the engagement and wish him happiness, just like a good (twin) brother.

“Shane,” Harvey’s voice captures your and his attention, “do you have anything to say, maybe to us or to your fiancé?” Shane clears his throat and opens his mouth. “First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming; it means a lot for me and Jiwoo to have your support and affection. Second, I’d like to publicly promise my dear fiancé that I’ll prioritize our happiness over everything else; you know that you mean the world to me, love.” Harvey chuckles. “Even over your brothers?” Shane shrugs. “My brothers are their own men; they can go and figure things out themselves.”

Harvey gives Jiwoo the chance to speak, which she takes after assembling her thoughts. “I know he’s said it already, but I also would like to thank everyone for the support and kindness.” Her glance meets yours as she scans her surroundings. “I haven’t seen Shaun-oppa and Seeun-unnie in a while, so it’s great to have them again.” You show her a kind smile, because that’s how a proper welcome looks and feels.

As soon as her butt lands on her seat again, Jiwoo bursts out in tears, making Seeun panicked—Yooyeon is also panicked but she doesn’t react as much. Seeun asks what’s happening, and that’s when Jiwoo delivers the big news. “I-I’m pregnant,” she reveals, “o-obviously there’s no question who the father is.”

Everyone’s jaws drop; Shane and Jiwoo are expecting just a few days after getting engaged. You nudge your twin who is still stunned, indirectly telling him to go and comfort his fiancé. After snapping out of his trance, Shane moves to kneel next to Jiwoo, making her turn her chair towards him.

“Love, love,” he calls to her. “It’s okay, love; having a child is a huge blessing for us.” “But-but you’re stuck with me from now on, oppa,” she says, and admittedly, you think that it’s a very crazy thing to say, all things considered. “I’m not stuck with you, love—what are you talking about? I got in this relationship with you because I think you’re a great woman to have a life with.” Now that’s a good and reasonable counter. “W-what about my master’s degree? Is-is that deal getting called off?” You don’t know exactly what she’s referring to, but it’s not important for you to know. “It’s not getting called off, love, but we’ll need to figure some things out first, okay?”

You scan the environs to get a grip: Yooyeon and Seeun are tearing up while Harvey is still stunned and has his mouth open. “Man, this is crazy,” you say in your head, and a part of you thinks that you’re understating it. Harvey reaches for your hand and taps it a few times. “Let’s go,” he mouths as he stands up. You follow him towards his back garden with Seeun and Yooyeon following closely behind you.

“Let’s give them some space for now,” Harvey says, taking a seat on one of the benches. You sit on the other bench and are soon joined by Seeun, who immediately rests her head on your lap. Yooyeon, on the other hand, joins her husband and copies Seeun’s movements. “Crazy turn of events, hey, Shaun?” “Tell me about it,” you sigh, “well, I hope things go well for them and the little one.”

Shane comes outside and invites everyone back in, mentioning that Jiwoo has calmed down, and true enough, you see that Jiwoo is now serene and steady when you return. “Congratulations, cookie,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder, “I wish you eternal happiness.” She thanks you for the kind words and asks that you wish her luck with being a parent. “I’m sure you and Shane will be great parents, Jiwoo-yah,” you say.

Everyone takes turns hugging Shane and Jiwoo to show support before taking their seats at the table again. “I think this is where we start eating,” Harvey says. You and Shane reach for the pizza at the same time, showing those present the twins’ unrivaled dynamics. “Great minds think alike—right, Shane?” He nods while his mouth is busy munching.

-

Shane and Jiwoo understandably excuse themselves from the celebration and leave early; they have some things to talk about in the privacy of their own home, not Harvey’s. You don’t want to be left behind in your brother’s home, so you go home at the same time Shane and Jiwoo do.

“Hah, finally.” Seeun lets out a sigh of relief as soon as the car starts rolling. “Sorry, babe, it’s just that I want to spend some time with you and only you.” You assure her that the feeling is mutual. “I’m going to say this right now: I want to have some fun with you at home, love,” you add. Seeun palms your crotch, assessing if you’re being serious. “You’re not lying, are you?” You shake your head. “No, I’m not.” She leans towards your ear. “Then put your foot on the pedal, baby,” she whispers, giving you goosebumps everywhere. You fiddle with some switches behind the wheel and put the car in sports mode. “I hope your seatbelt is fastened, Miss Yoon.”

Without giving her the chance to check, you put your foot on the pedal like she asks and zip around traffic, making use of the improved handling and responsiveness to pass slower drivers. “Don’t get us killed, baby,” Seeun says nervously. “Just hold on and we’ll be home before you know it.”

-

You have Seeun sit on the edge of the bed while you stand closely in front of her. “Do I have your consent, love?” She taps her chin with her finger. “Not yet,” she giggles. “I need some convincing.” She says she needs some convincing, but it’s her who makes the first move—Seeun is terri-bad at playing hard to get.

You’re pulled onto the bed as your girlfriend does a backwards tumble. “Is this your idea of convincing, my love?” Seeun presses her face into your chest to hide her blush. “You keep calling me love, baby.” You peck her forehead that’s right in front of your mouth. “I have a feeling that calling you love will work better going forward.” You get pinched in the waist. “Oh, don’t play with me like that, Han Jaehoon.” You roll over until you’re on top of her. “How is this playing with you, love—I’m being very honest right meow.”

The sound of her laughing, especially when you’re the cause of it, is never dull. “Oh my God, what did you just say right there, baby?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you play dumb. Seeun slaps your chest repeatedly, feeling highly amused by your little joke. “Oh, God, you’re so—” “Handsome? Cute? Attractive?” “I meant to say funny, but you’re also attractive,” she finishes her sentence.

Seeun undoes the only button of her cardigan. “In fact, you’re so attractive that I’m aroused for you.” You guess that she’s been convinced enough to finally let you in her pants. “Don’t tell me to be patient again, please—I don’t want to wait any longer, babe.” You shake your head. “Let’s do it, love.”

You leave her momentarily to undress, and Seeun uses that chance to also undress. The sight of her complete nudeness makes you stop—how did she even undress that quickly? “Fuck, you look so hot, love,” you utter mindlessly. She summons you to her with the wiggle of a finger, and you’ve never moved so fast in your life before. “I’m hot, and I’m all yours,” she whispers. The tip of your hard cock pokes her entrance. “Oh, you’re ready, aren’t you, baby—go on, then; fuck me.”

With your cock in hand, you slide into her warmth, and the tightness makes you fall limp into her arms. “Yes, that’s it, baby,” she always reacts so well to you, “you’ve missed me, haven’t you?” “I shouldn’t have—oh, fuck—we should’ve just done this earlier.” “Oh, don’t worry, baby; it was worth the wait,” Seeun says between moans.

You feel her hands wrapping tightly around your body and meeting right on your back, reminding you of how perfectly warm sex with Seeun is. “Kiss me, my love,” she uses the new pet name against you, and there’s no reason for you to not kiss her. She lets out a soft moan as soon as your lips touch hers and continues to moan into the kiss as she takes more and more thrusts from you.

She breaks the kiss to announce that she’s almost at the finish line, while you, on the other hand, think that you’re quite far from yours—it’s fine if she finishes first; she’ll help you chase your own finish later. “C’mon, love; cum for me,” you encourage her while making sure that your tempo is steady.

Seeun bites your bottom lip as her orgasm hits, and because of how painful it is, you’re glad that she quickly lets go. “B-baby, p-pull out,” she says weakly. You pull out of her warmth, and that’s when she starts rolling around in bed, her legs shaking out of her control. You lie sideways next to her while petting her head and whispering nice things to her ear, and Seeun does her best to reply.

You estimate that she needs some water, so you get off the bed, and that’s when she surprises you with a scream. “Y-your back, babe.” You stand in front of the mirror to see what she’s talking about: there are odd scratch lines on your back that you guess are caused by her nails—there are little spots of blood on some of them, too. “Ouchie,” only now do you feel the pain. “I-I’m sorry.” You chuckle. “Eh, it’s fine; they’ll be gone soon.” In your head, however, you know that it’d be so painful to shower for the next few days.

Seeun finishes the glass of water that you’ve brought for her within seconds and passes the empty glass back to you right after. “Thanks, baby.” She rewards your nice gesture with a peck on the cheek. You lie on your side of the bed, which you realize isn’t quite a good idea at the last second, thanks to the scars on your back. “Oh, God, I forgot,” you say, regretting your decision and sitting right back up. Your girlfriend asks if she can make it up to you for the scars, but you tell her that it’s not necessary, citing that it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing.

Seeun moves to sit on your lap, and in turn, lets you back in her warmth again—she also lets out a long moan as she slowly impales herself with your cock. “L-let me make you cum, baby,” she offers a most welcome solution. “Have at it, love.”

You thought that she’d just ride you while facing you like this, but it seems like she has a different idea. She turns around (without removing you from her pussy) and plants her hands on your knees. “Oh, this is quite the hot seat—hah, God.” This position allows you to reach around and stimulate her from behind, which you do immediately by placing a hand on her crotch, making sure that your middle finger is right on her nub. “Oh, please, not there.” “Why not, love? Don’t you want to cum again?” “I-if I cum again, I-I might not be able to wake up on time tomorrow for work,” she reasons.

You smirk at this opportunity to use Seeun’s medicine against herself, with a bit of revision. “If you mention work one more time, I will tie you to the bed and leave you alone the entire day.” “Oh, please don’t do that—look, I’ll make you cum,” she tries to negotiate. You chuckle teasingly. “How do plan on doing that without moving, hm?” Seeun’s grip on your knees gets firmer and stronger as she prepares to start. “I’ll move now, baby.”

Seeun slowly lifts her butt off your crotch, and that is when you start rubbing her nub. “You’re so tight, love—fuck, that’s so good,” you praise her. As if getting a boost of energy and confidence from your praise, she starts bouncing up and down at a good pace, and you can see how your shaft is entering and leaving her pussy repeatedly.

To make sure she doesn’t fall forwards, you place your free hand (that’s not busy rubbing her nub) on her stomach. “Can you feel that?” Seeun turns her head slightly. “Can you feel yourself bulging my belly?” You move your hand up and down her stomach as she keeps the bounces going—you indeed can feel her stomach subtly bulging when the entirety of your shaft is inside her. “You’re almost too big for me, baby,” she fuels your fire of ego. “And you’re almost too tight for me, love,” you whisper, “you’re literally squeezing me.” Seeun chuckles. “I’ll always be tight for you, baby.”

Your eyelids feel oddly heavy as time goes by, thus making you think that maybe you’re close to the finish line. “You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” “I think—oh, God, I think so,” you admit. Seeun stops moving and turns around to face you again. “I know you like looking at me when you cum.” “Damn right I do.” You quickly peck her on the lips. “Now move again, please.”

You make use of the fact that her breasts are right in front of your mouth by sucking one of them and grabbing the other. “Oh, I’ve waited so long for that,” she comments. Having heard her approval, you play with her tits more: tugging, nibbling, sucking—everything you can think of.

You’re ready to explode any moment now. “Love,” you call to her, “I’m about to blow.” “G-great to hear, baby.” Seeun turns down the pace, resorting to slower and longer movements. “How’s that for a change, baby?” “Amazing,” you say, “you’re amazing, love.”

This slower pace allows you and Seeun to be more expressive, showing each other just how enjoyable this is—oh, you’re twitching inside her. “Love, you felt that one, didn’t you?” Seeun nods. “Give it to me, baby; make me a mom like Shane did Jiwoo.” You pull her into a kiss by her chin while cum erupts out of your cock in waves.

Seeun is the first to break the kiss. “Baby,” she taps your chin to get your attention, “do you want me to take the pill?” You nod weakly. “We-we’ll need to talk first before getting you pregnant.” “I’ll take the pill later, then.”

Ignoring the pain from the scratch marks, you fall onto your back and pull Seeun with you. “I-I’m so sorry, but I’m so sleepy,” you say, about to give up to your heavy eyelids. “That’s fine, babe; we can clean up later.” You and Seeun yawn at the same time. “I love you.” “I love you more, baby.” She pecks you on the lips once. “See you tomorrow morning, okay?”

[simplygojo]

The Cool Uncle Blurbs - JJK Men

Author's Note: Heyyy, so I have been told by a few of y'all that I need to write shorter blurbs, so this was my practice piece!. Each character's blurb is about 1k each...writing something this short is so foreign to me, I am so used to having 8k minimums for school, so this may take practice! Please let me know if you like these shorter blurbs :)

Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader; Satoru Gojo x f!reader; Kento Nanami x f!reader; Suguru Geto x f!reader

Inspiration/summary: Inspired by some art by @clemenlush (linked here) that inspired me to write the JJK men as cool uncles, lol. Let me know if any of y'all want me to do another character!!

Warnings: alcohol use, mention of baby-making!, softboys & fluff

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

✧.* — TOJI FUSHIGURO — ✧.*

You glanced at Toji as he steered the car down the quiet, tree-lined street. The low hum of the engine was the only sound between you two, but that familiar weight of his presence filled the silence. He always carried himself with an easy confidence, a kind of quiet power that made him stand out without even trying.

“You don’t have to look so annoyed,” you teased, catching the subtle furrow in his brow as he pulled into Jinichi’s driveway.

Toji didn’t say anything at first, just smirked and glanced sideways at you. “I’m not annoyed,” he grumbled, though the slight tilt of his mouth said otherwise. “Just not exactly in the mood for the family dinner crap.”

You rolled your eyes.

Classic Toji.

“Be nice. It’s just dinner. You’re not walking into a fight,” you reminded him with a soft laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt. “And you know exactly how much your nephew adores you.”

That earned you a low chuckle as he cut the engine and slouched back in his seat.

“Kid's got good taste. I’m the only fun one ‘round here.”

You both stepped out of the car and as you made your way up the driveway, the front door swung open. 

Your brother-in-law, Jinichi, stood there, smiling at you both, but barely had the chance to greet you before the sound of hurried footsteps followed behind him.

“Toji-ojisan!”

A small, dark-haired blur darted past Jinichi and straight toward Toji. Before you could blink, Toji’s nephew had attached himself to his leg, looking up with wide eyes.

“Uncle Toji! You came! Are you gonna tell me more stories about when you were younger?”

Toji raised an eyebrow, smirking down at the kid, then cast a sidelong glance at you.

“See? Told you. I’m the fun one.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile as Toji crouched down to ruffle his nephew’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too full of yourself.”

“Already am,” he replied, deadpan, before turning his full attention to the kid.

“What’s up, brat? You been behaving?”

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Yep! I’ve been practicing just like you told me. Can we go to the backyard later? You gotta see my new moves!”

Toji stood back up, arms crossed as he exchanged a quick glance with Jinichi, who gave a knowing grin.

There was an unspoken fondness between them, though Jinichi didn’t say anything, just stepping aside to let you in.

Inside, the house was warm and inviting, the scent of homemade food already filling the air. You noticed Toji’s posture relax—just a bit—as you made your way to the living room.

His nephew stuck to his side like glue, constantly asking about everything from Toji’s workout routine to his old school stories.

Toji answered in his usual blunt way, never indulging the kid too much, but just enough to keep him hooked.

After dinner, you found yourself sitting outside on the back patio, watching Toji and his nephew go over some silly mock sparring moves.

The boy had his fists up, trying to mimic Toji’s stance, all while Toji lazily dodged the punches, not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes.

You leaned back in your chair, and for a moment, it was like your heart swelled in your chest—three sizes too big, you thought with a smile.

It was impossible not to feel that warmth as you watched Toji with his nephew, his tough exterior softened just a bit in these moments.

He’d never admit it, but seeing him like this, in his own way, playing the doting uncle…it made you melt.

You could see it in the way his nephew looked at him, hanging onto his every word. And the way Toji engaged—aloof but present—it warmed something deep inside you.

“You’re such a softie, you know that?” you called out, your voice teasing but laced with affection.

Toji turned, still holding up a lazy guard, eyes narrowing playfully. “Yeah? How d’you figure?”

You gave him a knowing grin, folding your arms. “Look at you—out here entertaining him like you don’t enjoy it. Don’t act like you don’t love being the ‘cool uncle.’”

He straightened up, brushing his hands through his hair as he cast a quick glance at his nephew—who was too busy practicing his “new moves” on a nearby tree—to respond.

Then, with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat, he stepped toward you. “Maybe I am a softie,” he started, voice low, “but only for you.”

You blinked, a playful roll of your eyes as you went to respond—

“Though, I’ll tell ya, there’s somethin’ I’m neverr soft for...”

It took you all of two seconds to realize where he was going, but before he could finish the joke, you flicked him right in the forehead.

“Toji!” You scolded, laughing despite yourself.

He grinned, all too pleased with himself, as he rubbed his forehead.

“What? You’re the one who brought it up, sweetheart.”

“You’re awful,” you said, shaking your head, though the warmth in your chest remained. You could never stay mad at him, especially not when he was like this—so smug, so sure of himself.

“And to think I almost thought you were sweet for a second.”

He leaned down, one hand coming to rest on the arm of your chair as he hovered over you, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Almost, huh?”

You flicked his forehead again, but softer this time. “Don’t push your luck.”

He chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms as he glanced toward his nephew, still occupied in his makeshift sparring match with the tree.

“Brat’s got a lot to learn,” he muttered, but you could hear the fondness there, the warmth beneath his tough exterior.

“Kid might be cooler than me one day.”

You smiled, shaking your head as you watched the two of them together.

“Not possible,” you said softly, though Toji didn’t hear it—or pretended not to.

Either way, in that moment, your heart was full. This was your life, and honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

✧.* — GOJO SATORU — ✧.*

Gojo’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel as he hummed along to the radio, sunglasses perched—needlessly—on his nose despite the fact it was well after sunset.

You shot him a side-eye.

“You do realize we’re just going to Shoko’s for dinner, right? You’re acting like you’re about to perform on stage.”

He grinned, his lips pulling into that signature cocky smile.

“Aren’t I always the main attraction, though? Especially tonight. Her kid adores me.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because you let him climb all over you like a jungle gym.”

“Hey, I’m just providing the fun. I can’t help that I’m a natural favourite,” he quipped, glancing at you for emphasis before focusing back on the road.

“You say that like it’s a talent,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew as you thought about it.

It was hard not to love Gojo when he was like this—carefree, playful, and so naturally magnetic, especially around kids.

By the time you pulled up to Shoko’s house, you could already hear the muffled sound of laughter and conversation.

The front door creaked open before either of you could knock, and Shoko’s five-year-old son burst out, arms outstretched, ready to greet his hero.

“Gojo-nii!” The kid’s excitement was so pure, it was contagious.

Gojo’s grin only widened, and he crouched down to scoop him up in one smooth motion.

“Hey, champ! Been keeping things under control at this house? Your mom can be a handful…”

The boy giggled as Gojo swung him around effortlessly, his small hands gripping the fabric of Gojo’s coat. 

You stood back for a moment, hand still resting on the open passenger door, with a growing smile on your face.

Gojo’s childlike energy matched the kid’s perfectly, and it never failed to make your heart melt.

“He’s been waiting for you all day,” Shoko called from the hallway, rolling her eyes as she stepped into view.

“Good luck tearing him away from you tonight.”

Gojo set the kid down with a dramatic flair, straightening up and shooting a playful wink at you.

“What can I say? I’ve got that irresistible charm.”

“Careful, your ego’s showing again,” you quipped, nudging him as you all walked into the house.

As Gojo and the boy ran off to “catch up”—which likely meant some sort of wild chase through the living room—you found yourself watching from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and heart swelling.

It always surprised you how soft Gojo could be, especially around kids. 

His usual swagger and bravado were still there, but he had a way of connecting with them that was genuinely sweet. It made your heart skip in ways you had never expected.

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you watched Gojo give the kid a piggyback ride, the room filled with their laughter. 

Shoko came up beside you, handing you a glass of wine. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where Satoru Gojo is someone’s favorite jungle gym,” she commented dryly, taking a sip from her own glass.

You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, it’s weird, right? But he loves it.”

Shoko gave you a knowing look. “Does he? Or does he just love being adored?”

You grinned, letting out a short laugh before responding.

“Both. Definitely both.”

Later, after dinner, Gojo had somehow convinced the boy to show him every toy he owned, and you found yourself watching them again, heart swelling even more.

You didn’t know how, but every time Gojo was around that kid, you swore your heart was overwhelmed with admiration.

“You’re good with him, you know,” you said softly as you sidled up next to Gojo, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping the boy assemble a toy robot. “It’s almost like you… enjoy this.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. “Enjoy? What are you trying to say, love? You think I’m not the paternal type?”

You smirked, leaning down to whisper, “I think you love it, actually...”

Gojo leaned back slightly, crossing his arms and giving you a playful look. “Oh, I love a lot of things,” he said smoothly, lowering his voice.

“And most of them are when we’re not around a five-year-old.”

You blinked, realizing the meaning behind his words, and lightly smacked him at the back of his head. “Satoru!”

“Ow!” He pouted, rubbing the back of his head. “What? I’m just being honest.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a grin. “You’re the worst.”

“Actually…I’m the best,” he corrected with a wink, as the kid ran back to Gojo’s side, completely oblivious to the innuendo.

Watching Gojo with that playful smile and the way he effortlessly entertained the kid—who was still tugging at his sleeve to show him yet another toy—made you feel an overwhelming sense of warmth.

Sure, Gojo could be an insufferable flirt, but seeing him like this, so naturally connected and full of energy, reminded you why you loved him so much.

Even when he was being a ridiculous show-off, he had a way of making your heart burst with affection.

“Okay, okay,” you said, shaking your head fondly.

“Let’s see if you can at least try to behave yourself the rest of the night.”

Gojo stood up, stretching dramatically, and then leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“No promises. You know me—I always aim to please.”

You smacked him again, this time softer, as he flashed that signature grin of his and turned his attention back to Shoko’s son, who was already planning his next adventure with his “cool uncle.”

✧.* — NANAMI KENTO — ✧.*

The evening sky was beginning to blush with hues of orange and pink as you and Nanami made your way to your sister's house. 

The quiet hum of the car and the familiar scent of Nanami’s cologne made the drive feel calm, though you couldn’t help the tiny flutter of excitement in your stomach.

Family dinners were always nice, but this time there was a little extra something—your niece loved Nanami.

“I think she loves you more than she loves me,” you said playfully, turning to glance at your husband as he kept his eyes focused on the road.

Nanami’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles.

“Hardly. She just appreciates that I bring her books.”

“Books, toys, puzzles, snacks—don’t act like you haven’t been spoiling her.” You teased, gently nudging his arm.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, but you could see the way his eyes softened.

“I just want to make sure she’s happy.”

You grinned.

It was the kind of answer you'd expect from Nanami—thoughtful, selfless, and with an unspoken affection that melted your heart every time.

It was hard to imagine anyone not loving him, really. 

As you pulled up in front of your sister’s house, you didn’t even have a chance to step out of the car before the front door swung open.

Your niece, a whirlwind of energy with messy pigtails and a huge smile, came racing down the path.

“Uncle Kento!” she squealed, her little feet pounding against the pavement as she made a beeline for Nanami.

He stepped out of the car just in time for her to throw her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly. Nanami looked slightly startled but quickly softened, crouching down to her level. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Her face lit up at his greeting, and she quickly started tugging him towards the house.

“Come on! I have to show you my new dollhouse! You’re going to love it!”

You watched them from a few steps behind, heart warming at the sight. Nanami—who always seemed so composed and serious—was completely wrapped around your niece’s tiny finger. It was an endearing contrast, watching the usually stoic man willingly get pulled into a child’s world of excitement and play.

By the time you reached the front door, your niece had already dragged Nanami inside, babbling non-stop about the dollhouse, the latest puzzle he bought her, and a new storybook she wanted him to read later. 

You exchanged a smile with your sister, who had appeared in the doorway, laughing as she watched her daughter commandeer Nanami's attention.

“He’s got the magic touch with kids, huh?” Your sister remarked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You chuckled, stepping inside. “She loves him. I think she’s ready to keep him all to herself.”

“Good luck getting him back,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge as you both headed into the living room.

Dinner was filled with easy conversation, laughter, and your niece proudly showing Nanami everything she could think of—her new school projects, her favorite toys, and even a drawing she had made “just for him.” 

He listened attentively, offering genuine praise, his voice calm but warm in a way that made it clear he wasn’t just humoring her. He cared.

You found yourself watching the two of them, your heart swelling with each small interaction. 

It was impossible not to smile, seeing Nanami, the man who rarely let himself relax, so at ease around your niece. 

Nanami had just finished reading her a bedtime story, and now she was fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with her favorite stuffed toy.

“She’s asleep,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing your niece’s hair away from her face.

You stepped forward, quietly gathering the blankets to tuck her in. “You’re really good with her, you know?”

He glanced at you, a faint smile on his lips. “I try.”

“No, really,” you said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “She loves you. You’re her favorite.”

Nanami’s eyes softened at your words, but he didn’t say much more, his hand lingering on your niece’s small form for a moment longer before standing up.

The two of you quietly exited the room, letting her sleep in peace.

After saying your goodbyes to your sister and thanking her for dinner, you both made your way out to the car. 

The night air was cool, and the streets were quiet as Nanami opened the passenger door for you, his hand resting briefly at the small of your back as you slid into the seat.

The drive home was calm, with the rhythmic sound of the tires against the road creating a peaceful background hum. You glanced out the window, watching the city lights blur into soft orbs as they passed by.

Nanami was silent beside you, his hands steady on the wheel. There was something thoughtful in the way he held himself, a quiet contemplation that you could sense even without looking at him.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued by the sudden weight in his voice.

Nanami hesitated for a moment, his thumb tapping lightly on the steering wheel before reaching over to rest on your thigh.

“Of what I want,” he said, his voice a little quieter. “Of what we could have.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication behind his words, and you turned to face him fully, sensing where this was going.

“Kento…” You began softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he continued, his gaze fixed ahead on the road.

“For a while now, actually.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your pulse quicken as the meaning behind his words settled in. He wasn’t just talking about your niece anymore.

“You’re talking about…” you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.

“A family,” he finished for you, his tone gentle but certain. “I want us to have a baby.”

For a moment, you just sat there.

You had always known that Nanami cared deeply, that he was serious about your future together, but hearing him say it like this, so plainly, so sincerely—it was something else entirely.

“You want a baby?” You repeated softly, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

He nodded, his eyes still focused on the road but softening as he spoke.

“Yes. I want to start a family with you. I’ve been thinking about it for some time, but… I didn’t want to pressure you.”

You reached over, gently placing your hand on top of his where it rested on your leg.

“You’re not pressuring me, Kento. I…” You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

“I want that too. With you. More than anything.”

When you finally pulled up to your home, Nanami turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, the faint glow of the streetlights illuminating his thoughtful expression. 

He turned to you, reaching out to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your heart skip.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re ready. We’ll do this together.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes meeting his with a warmth and certainty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well…I am ready now...” You said with a playful tone.

He smiled then—small, soft, and full of love—and leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips, sealing the quiet promise you had both made tonight.

“Well then lets get inside.”

✧.* — SUGURU GETO — ✧.*

It was a peaceful evening, and the low hum of conversation filled the room, accompanied by the occasional clatter of building blocks. You sat cross-legged on the couch, watching as Suguru helped Utahime's son with his tower-building endeavor.

The little boy was fully engaged, eyes bright with excitement as Suguru gently guided his small hands to balance each block perfectly.

“Higher, Sugu! Make it taller!” the boy giggled, his enthusiasm filling the room with an infectious joy.

Suguru chuckled softly, his deep voice filled with warmth.

“Careful, we don’t want it to fall,” he murmured, adding another block to the structure with a steady hand.

His long fingers made the task look effortless, and the boy watched in awe.

You leaned back against the couch cushions, the sight of Suguru interacting with the child making your heart swell.

There was something about seeing him like this—patient, soft-spoken, so full of care. It was a side of him that you loved deeply, and it reminded you just how much of a natural he was with kids.

“You’re really good with him,” you commented, your voice a little more tender than usual as you admired the scene before you.

Suguru glanced over at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile.

“He’s easy to please,” he said, turning his attention back to the boy, who was now clapping his hands excitedly as the tower grew taller.

“Still,” you said, watching the way the boy leaned into Suguru, clearly adoring him, “he’s obsessed with you. I’ve never seen him so attached.”

Suguru smirked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“What can I say? I’m just irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but your heart warmed anyway.

“Sure, sure. Let’s just hope you don’t break his heart when we leave.”

The boy turned to you, his face lighting up with joy. “Sugu is so cool, y/n! He’s gonna help me with my blocks forever!”

You chuckled, brushing a hand through your hair as you watched Suguru pretend to be serious.

“Forever, huh? That’s a long time, buddy.”

Suguru leaned down, lowering his voice conspiratorially as if sharing a secret with the boy.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered, his tone teasing. “As long as I get to build the biggest towers.”

The boy giggled, his eyes sparkling as he nodded enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—it was moments like this that made your heart grow three sizes.

You leaned forward, nudging Suguru’s shoulder lightly.

“Admit it, you’re loving this.”

Suguru’s dark eyes flickered with amusement as he glanced at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Of course! What’s not to love?”

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of keys jingling outside the door caught your attention.

You glanced at the clock—it was just about time for Utahime to be home.

The front door creaked open, and Utahime stepped inside, looking a little worn out but smiling when she saw the scene in front of her.

“Looks like I missed all the fun,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and gratitude as she took in the sight of her son sitting on the floor, still glued to Suguru’s side.

“Mama!” The boy immediately jumped up, running toward her with open arms. Utahime knelt down, scooping him up with a tired but happy sigh.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured, kissing the top of his head. “Were you good for Suguru and y/n?”

“He was an angel,” you replied with a smile, standing up from the couch. “Though, I think Suguru’s the real hero tonight.”

Utahime chuckled, glancing at Suguru with an appreciative smile.

“I don’t doubt it. Thanks for watching him—both of you. I owe you one.”

Suguru waved her off, standing up and stretching his arms.

“No need. He’s a fun kid. We built the tallest tower yet.”

The boy wiggled in Utahime’s arms, looking up at her excitedly.

“Mama, it was so tall! Sugu’s the best!”

Utahime smiled down at him, her eyes softening. “I’m glad you had fun, sweetie. Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”

As Utahime carried her son off to his room, you turned to Suguru, your hand finding his arm as you gave him a gentle squeeze.

“You were great with him tonight,” you said softly, your eyes full of affection.

Suguru gave you a warm smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“I had fun,” he murmured. “But we should probably head out.”

You nodded, glancing around the apartment to make sure everything was in order. After a few minutes, Utahime returned, looking more relaxed now that her son was settled.

“Thanks again, guys,” she said, walking you both to the door. “I’ll definitely owe you one for this.”

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile, giving her a quick hug before stepping out into the cool evening air.

As you and Suguru made your way to his bike, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. There was something peaceful about nights like this—watching Suguru be so gentle and kind, seeing how naturally he fit into the role of caretaker.

It stirred something warm and familiar deep within you.

Once you both stepped outside into the cool evening air, Suguru glanced at you with a smirk.

“You know,” he started, his tone laced with that unmistakable teasing charm, “playing with Utahime’s kid is fun and all, but…” He paused, raising an eyebrow as he reached for your hand. “I was thinking we should get home and get to some 'baby-making' ourselves… if you know what I mean.”

Heat instantly bloomed in your cheeks as you laughed, nudging him in the ribs. “Suguru!”

But before you could respond properly, Suguru swept you off your feet with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“What? It’s a solid plan, plus you're the one who kept saying I'm just sooo good with kids.” He grinned, peppering your face with soft kisses as he carried you toward his motorcycle.

“Put me down!” You laughed, but your protests were playful as Suguru’s kisses continued, light and affectionate, his breath warm against your skin.

“You love it,” he murmured between kisses, making you giggle even more.

With one final press of his lips to your forehead, Suguru set you down beside his motorcycle, the playful glint in his eyes still there.

“Now, let’s get home,” he said, sliding onto the bike and passing you your helmet. “We’ve got some important work to do.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

As the engine roared to life, you pressed your cheek against his back, feeling that same peaceful contentment wash over you once more.

And as you sped off into the night, the playful warmth of Suguru's teasing stayed with you, a reminder of just how lucky you were to have him by your side.

Author's Note II: Let me know your thoughts on these and lmk if you want me to do any other characters :)

LOVE Y'ALL

[thaatdigitaldiary]

my eyes are open

paige bueckers x fem reader

hiii! this is a continuation to part one, “open your eyes” as requested! read first for context!

you and paige have talked about moving forward since that night, and from then on its been nothing but reciprocated love.

fluff, sexual content, paige being corny n flirty what’s new, slight angst, inexperienced reader, proofread but this girl got tired mid write so if there’s a mistake, ignore it🙂‍↕️

enjoy! 🙂‍↕️

you and paige have left the party happy and content, but there were still things you two had to talk about. you wanted to be paige’s girlfriend, but that’s something you couldn’t just jump into. you shared your moment after the party, but you wanted to make it special for you, and for paige.

you and jana bought some legos from amazon a couple days ago, and you saved one last set for you and paige. it was a lego rose bouquet, something she wanted for a long time. you intended for this night to be memorable, you build your legos, watch a movie, and you ask the question. but why did you feel sick to your stomach? you started to contemplate committing to paige, you being so unknown and paige having a camera in her face everywhere she went. you were a nobody. you couldn’t be seen with paige, she was a celebrity.

you brushed the thought out of your mind for tonight, not wanting to worry her, as your facial expression told a thousand words, and you sucked at hiding how you felt. paige knew you front and back too, that was her specialty. whenever you were sad, she always knew. but this was different. you needed to get it together, so you could avoid what comes next.

you put on some low waisted plaid pajama pants and a cropped white tank, and grab your keys and the legos you bought to go over to paige’s apartment. you throw on a pair of your ugg slippers, and head out the door. you’re a nervous wreck to say the least, rehearsing what you’re actually gonna say to paige, and let her know how you feel about moving forward. but did you even know what you wanted?

paige was all about you for years, admiring you when you weren’t looking, complimenting you anytime she got, and being there for you when you needed her, every single time. paige was your comfort person, and a million thoughts swarmed in your head, hoping dating each other wouldn’t mess things up between you two. you truly loved and cherished paige, not missing a single basketball game, whether it was a home or away game, and even going to support the team when she was injured. paige never had someone do that for her, which is why she fell ten times harder for you.

you drive to paige’s apartment, smile on your face, and feeling somewhat better knowing you’ll get everything off your chest, you two will talk, and hopefully in the end it’ll all be perfect. paige was perfect. you loved all six feet of her, her long blonde hair cascading past her shoulders, her blue eyes filled with love and admiration, the way she was so corny it was adorable, wanting to be by her side for the rest of your life, no matter what it took.

paige has dated other girls before, but one thing you noticed is they never stayed around long, paige always let you or basketball get in the way of the relationship, not having time for the other girls in her life, ultimately making them leave. paige didn’t really care though, because they weren’t you. you had a spark paige didn’t see in anyone else, your smile, your kindness, the way you stayed even when paige was going through some of the toughest moments of her life, you never left. she fell in love with you years ago, but was unsure of how you’d take it.

you pull into paige’s apartment parking lot, taking a deep breath and grabbing the plastic bag with the legos you planned on building with her, and taking your keys out of your car. while walking to her door, you texted her “i’m omw up”, and with that paige texted back “door’s unlocked mama”, making you blush slightly at the nickname, even though she’s been calling you that for years now. it was different now though.

you let yourself in, and paige immediately paces to her front door, opening my her arms for a hug. you hug her, and she takes in all of you. your hips, the way your pants sat low right on them, loving how the cropped shirt you wore left little to the imagination, the tanktop showing enough to distract paige, and your gold locket sat perfectly on your neck, one piece of jewelry you never took off, with the cutest picture of younger you and paige. “i missed you so much ma,” paige tells you, going in for a kiss. you two kiss, the time apart making you feel desperate for her, not wanting to disconnect your lips. the kiss was pure, and it makes you smile, knowing paige was your real first kiss. you never told paige you didn’t have much experience, she just assumed you’ve done something with somebody in your life, but feeling too scared to genuinely ask. after you two kiss, paige rests her hands on the exposed skin of your hips, her hands mildly cold, the sensation being something you didn’t mind. she looks down and sees you holding the plastic bag, which contained the legos you two are going to construct tonight, and after you were done with it, you planned to ask paige to be your girlfriend. “is this for us? what’s in it lemme see,” paige tries to take the bag from you, but you snatch it away from her. “it’s a surprise baby, go sit,” you say, making paige raise her eyebrow at you and smirk, making you laugh. “shit, yes ma’am,” she says, winking at you. her corniness made you giggle, a noise she loved hearing.

paige sits on the couch, and you take the lego set out of the bag. “oh shit y/n, i’ve been tryna get this one for weeks, they’re always sold out! how did you get this?” she says excited, already unboxing and laying out the plastic bags that were inside. “baby, amazon is a thing.” she looks at you and jokingly rolls her eyes, and you kiss her forehead. those little gestures made paige melt, kissing her forehead, her hands, and her cheek, making things so much more lovey dovey and nurturing, bringing a smile to her face.

you two listen to her playlist and build, determined to finish no matter what time it was. sometimes you would take breaks and just watch paige put the pieces together. you did this a lot back then, when she would play games on her ps5, the way her veiny hands worked around the controller, making you think thoughts that are so wild, you had to keep them to yourself. her hands work skillfully on the lego set, driving you mad. you thought you were being subtle until she says “you like what you see ma?” and the truth is, you did. not just her hands, but her. she had on a white sports bra and basketball shorts, her hair slicked back in the bun you loved so much. you don’t respond to her comment, but you do blush and roll your eyes.

even though this was a good and memorable moment, your poker face sucked. you looked worried, lost in thought, and paige knew that. she stopped the piece she was putting together, and looked at you. “ma look at me.” you lifted your head up and put on a fake smile, trying to cover up the fact that you had so much to say, but didn’t know how to say it. “what’s going on with you mama?” she saw right through you. “nothing baby, let’s keep building,” you say grabbing another piece, but she doesn’t budge. she takes the piece from your hand, and holds it. “talk to me. please?” and with that, your fake smile drops, and your whole face shifts. “paige, are you sure you’d wanna date me? there’s so many people on your level, i mean shit, nobody even knows my name.” paige’s look softens, knowing this has been on your mind for who knows how long. “i just don’t want you being with a nobody i-,” paige cuts you off. “hey baby no, you’re not a nobody. i don’t care about people not knowing you, cause baby i do. that’s all i need, you’re all i need.” you start tearing up, being a sensitive person, any sentimental speech automatically made you cry. paige takes your hand and kisses the back of it, and cups your face with her other hand. “baby i love you, hell, i’ve loved you for a long ass time, just waiting for the perfect moment to let you know that.” you look at her, eyes soft and teary, and you smile. “i just have one question.” paige states, and you look at her, waiting on the ask. “i really, really love you y/n, and i’ll do a whole big thing soon but, i want it official. will you be my girlfriend? you’re stunned at first, but you jump in her arms and kiss her. you let go and respond, “of course p.” paige is ecstatic, with the finished lego and a beautiful girlfriend, she has everything she needs.

you two sit on her couch, admiring one another and just talking, when another question surfaces from paige, making you nervous. “was i your first kiss?” you hesitate with your answer. “yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing. you know i’ve never really dated anyone.” honestly, paige was happy it was her and not anybody else, because one thing paige knew, was that anything you experienced, she was determined to make it special. “mama that’s far from embarrassing, i’m glad i was.” you smile at this information, happy your girlfriend was so understanding. there was a moment of silence, as paige looked you up and down before she spoke again, saying one simple thing. “cmere.”

you climb into paige’s lap kissing her with so much passion, you were surprising yourself. “fuck baby, for your first time you know what you’re doing,” the both of you laugh, while paige nuzzles her head in your neck, and kisses it slowly and carefully, making sure not to miss a spot. “you smell so good mama, whatchu got on?” she licks her lips at your scent, and you moan softly as her lips connect back on your neck. “shit p, i can’t tell you fuck-, it’s a secret.” your tanktop strap falls down a little, giving paige more access to this neck of yours, that smelled so fucking good. “you keeping secrets from me baby? you don’t wanna tell your girlfriend whatchu got on?” she kisses lower down your chest, making you moan quietly, nervous to see where this goes. “can i take this off?” paige asks, referring to this tanktop, that can’t seem to get out of her way. “yeah baby, take it off.” she doesn’t hesitate, practically ripping the shirt off of you, revealing the black lacy bra you wore, just for her.

in the midst of you kissing, paige noticed your body language. you were tense, and she knew that. “mama, you doing okay?” she asks with concern, wanting to make sure you were good before she continues. “yea-yeah, im just-, new to it y’know,” she stops kissing your neck to look at you. “baby i got you okay, if you don’t wanna do this i’m perfectly fine with just holding you.” you sigh of relief, and wanting to continue. “i’m okay, i want this, i want you.” those words alone made paige hungry for more, needing you so bad. “you sure mama? talk to me.” she needs complete confirmation, before she shows you how much she loves you. “yes, i’m sure, just-, please touch me.”

she lays you down on her couch, unclasping your bra in the process, throwing it somewhere in her apartment. your pajama pants were so loose they were practically doing the job for her, exposing your legs and thighs she loved so much. she kisses around your tits, the sight of them making her weak. “you’re beautiful mama.” she says to you, her words making you moan, her voice alone leaving you soaked. she slowly takes your pajama pants off, the matching black lacy panties you wore, slightly see through. she kisses around your pussy, delicate and slow. “are you sure you’re ready ma?”

“i’m sure.”

she laps at your pussy, the vibration of her moans bringing chills to your core, a sensation you’ve never felt before. “my god paige,” you moan, making her eat you out faster, wanting to feel you on her tongue. “you taste so good baby, all this for me?” she says, talking you through your first time, and you’re getting close already, feeling embarrassed that you couldn’t last long. paige loves it though. “cmon mama give it to me, fuck-, let it out baby.” this brings you closer and closer you’re stomach getting tighter by the second. “p, fuck-, please i’m already-“ you’re cut off by your own loud moan, from your core twisting, and all of you all over paige’s tongue. you shake from the high, and paige kisses you, whispering praises in your ear.

“you’re okay baby, i got you, you did so good.” she peppers kisses on your cheek and forehead, allowing you to relax. “but what about you p, i wanna make you feel good too?” she holds your hand and plays with the rings on your fingers, and explains to you that there will be more times for you to please her, but this was for you. you accept that, and nuzzle into her, her long arms wrapping around you, making you feel safe.

you had fallen for paige, but easy to say she fell ten times harder.

paige was perfect for you, your eyes were open, and you got a glimpse of how she truly saw you, the love of her life.

HEY BAD BITCHESSSSS!!! i finally made part two🙄being a full time student make big mama tired, i fell asleep mid proofread once😖. anyways i hope you enjoyed! i also kinda hinted that there will be more of this, (wink wink) i wonder if you can catch it? i hope you loved it! love you guyssss

tags: @rosemariiaa, @patscorner, @ohbueckers, @juspeaks, @bueckerscore, @wbbgetsmewetter

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[ennabear]

− ⌗ CATALINA ISLAND ⊹∿

cw: catalina!abby/mamabear!abby/loser!abby/sub!abby, yara mention (i’m sorry… we miss u babygirl), slight themes of homophobia but nothing too heavy, post-pillars timeline so abby has short hair and no muscles, abby falls first but reader falls harder, tribbing eventually… 🙏 (not proofread)

wc: 6.0k

quite vividly does abby remember the first time she saw you. bright overhead lights stabbed through her vision, gloved fingers and cold metal tools poked and prodded at her extremely burnt, extremely sensitive skin. but not you, you were gentle with her. speaking in a hushed voice that comforted the dull ache crawling up her head, hands keeping their distance from her sore and aching body.

she felt at ease. for the first time in… months? years? decades? suddenly the weight of previous events didn’t seem so heavy. she felt lighter, calmer, unafraid. but maybe it was just the morphine making her feel this way, because she passed back out minutes after having this epiphany.

“abby…” the boy whispered. she didn’t hear it, too deep in her slumber to respond.

“abbyyyyyy, wake up.” he pleaded. nudging her sides and arms in an attempt to wake her. still, her rest was uninterrupted.

“ABBY!” he finally shouted, yanking her braid in despair.

“j’sus christ, lev, wha’ddyou want?” she yawned. one benefit of living out at sea was that there were never any threats out there. other than the occasional storm, they were completely safe, and abby could let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.

“come look at the stars with me.” he demanded, pointing to the front of the boat.

“are you serious?” abby asked, somewhat furious she got woken up for this, but could she blame him? his childlike wonder provided a refreshing new perspective. and as abby always said, lev used to live under a rock, so she was always happy to introduce him to new things, although his lack of general knowledge sometimes startled her.

“come on, please?” he added. “i’ve never seen them so bright before, pleaseee?”

abby huffed and got up, grabbing her blanket and taking it with her, already predicting lev would be shivering in an instant. and she was right. somehow, in the middle of the pacific ocean, the sun beating down on them for 12 hours a day, lev was always cold.

she took a seat on the deck next to him, wrapping the blanket around the two of them as they stared up into the sky. it was beautiful, she had to admit. it was hard to see the stars this clearly on land, and seeing the whole galaxy like this was such a treasure. it never stopped, no buildings or mountains concealing the sky, it was just pure space for miles.

they were silent for a while, lev looking up at the night sky with wide eyes, and abby still trying to shake the sleepiness from her mind.

“…abby?” lev asked after a while.

“yeah?” she responded.

“do you believe in a god?”

she debated this for a while. what a tricky question. did she want to believe? yes. 1,000%. but did she believe? … did she? does she? will she?

“i’m not sure.” she says. “no, i guess not.”

“i do. and i think that’s where yara is right now.”

oh. abby’s face falls, it’s always tough to think about lev’s sister. sure, she died a hero, but she shouldn’t have. she was so young, so strong, so determined, intelligent, kind, strategic, resilient. abby never knew her very well, but she replays the conversation she had with yara quite often. she wishes so badly she could’ve saved her, but at the end of the day it’s permanent. a script written in ink, a final decision.

if there is a god, i swear i’m gonna kill him she thinks.

“do you see that star?” lev asks, pointing up to an extra luminescent star twinkling brighter than the rest of them. “i think that’s her.” he continues. “and she’s always with us.”

abby huffs a laugh and stands, returning back to bed. “i don’t believe in all that.”

lev as no choice but to chase after her if he wants the warmth of the blanket back, so he does. “maybe your dad is up there too.” he states truthfully, climbing into bed next to her. her arms wrap around him as she settles back into slumber. “maybe,” she says. “or maybe he’s just gone.”

“do you ever miss him?” lev asks.

“every day. more than anything.” and suddenly she’s asleep again.

“abby?”

“abby?” …..

“ABBY!” the voice asks again, and suddenly she’s wide awake. she’s not on the boat with lev anymore, instead she’s… in a hospital? or an office? somewhere too bright that smells too much of disinfectant.

“it was just a dream,” you soothe, shushing her pained whimpers and cries. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

she looks over to you, one of the sweetest sights she’s ever seen. “i’ve seen you before.” she whispers.

you smile and pat her hands, abby is one of your favorite patients. being on narcotics for weeks makes for an easy client, all you really do is change her bandages and occasionally silence her night terrors. you’ve actually gotten to know her quite well from her… son? you still don’t know the full story on that, apparently she betrayed the entire washington liberation front to adopt him and his sister, and that she’s been a better caretaker to him than his biological mother ever has been. but you can see in her youthful features that she’s still young. too young to be a mother. and lev cringes at the thought of calling her mom.

“where am i?” she asks, voice gravelly from being asleep for so long.

“catalina island critical care unit.” you respond gently. “or, CICCU, but i don’t wanna confuse you with too many letters.”

“where’s lev?” she asks frantically, suddenly fully aware that she’s not in the same room as him right now.

“he’s okay. sleeping. it’s pretty late.”

“was i talking?” she asks, cringing at the thought of someone as perfect as you listening to her blabber in her sleep.

“no, not this time. but i always prefer your talking over your screaming.” you joke.

“what do i talk about?” she asks, although not sure she wants to hear the answer.

“lev mostly. sometimes others, usually ‘manny’ and ‘alice’.”

“oh.” she sighs. she feels so much better compared to the night she first saw you. was that when she arrived? whatever, she can’t remember anything other than you. her muscles aren’t sore anymore, her skin feels cooler and softer, finally.

“you should go back to sleep.” you say. “your body needs the rest, and i’m not really supposed to be talking to my patients anyways.”

she raises an eyebrow at this. “why’s that?”

“my social skills are no good, that’s why they put me on the night shift. i’m not sweet or gentle enough for daytime caretaking.”

blasphemy. you? not sweet or gentle? this is the first time in her whole life she’s felt truly comfortable, and it’s all because of you. she closes her eyes, willing herself to get more rest before she sees you again.

her daytime nurse fucking sucks. she’s an old lady with a scratchy voice, not deep and smooth like yours. and she’s mean. abby always catches her talking shit about other doctors at the hospital, and it’s not even normal stuff like gossip or personal experience and whatnot, she takes real jabs at the people in the community, coming for their looks and personalities. worst of all, the mean nurse hates you.

she always chatters on about how you can never do your job correctly, and apparently you’re wasting all of god’s honor by not being married yet. but it’s not until the mean nurse mentions “sleeping around with… females…” that she finally listens to what the mean nurse is saying, and she has a strong feeling she relates to you just fine.

abby sighs in relief when you walk in for your night shift. you catch this, giggling a little “what was that about?”

“i hate the other nurse.” she pouts, grimacing at the thought of seeing her again when dusk turns to dawn.

“who, dr. cosby?” you ask.

“yeah, if that’s her name.”

“i don’t like her either,” you admit. “but she’s the only one completely trained in full time caretaking.”

“do you have to work with her?” abby asks, growing slightly defensive over you. she’s gotten to know you over the past few days, too, and you’ve been able to fill in some of the gaps from the stories lev has told you.

“yeah, almost every day. she’s kinda like my boss since she’s training me, but she doesn’t pay me or anything… which kinda makes it worse. i feel like i deserve an extra paycheck for putting up with her.” you laugh.

abby still can’t get over your laugh, the sweet, deep giggles that seem to float out of you like bubbles. abby doesn’t realize this yet, but she has a huge crush on you.

“anyways, you’re supposed to be asleep, anderson.” you accuse, pointing a jokingly angry finger at her.

“yeah, yeah, i know.” she says, sighing deeply. “but i missed you, and i wanted to see you again after the mean nurse.”

“that’s sweet.” you start. “but if the mean nurse finds out you haven’t been sleeping because of me, i’m fired. and they’ll replace me with someone worse.”

abby laughs, pulling a pillow over her face to cover her giggles, and falls into another restful sleep after a few minutes.

she manages to survive a few more days with dr. cosby. or, the mean nurse, in the vocabulary the two of you share. the only thing that makes it bearable is knowing she’ll see you every night, and lev even visits her sometimes. tonight is different, though, because you don’t walk in at 9:00 pm when you’re regularly scheduled. dr. cosby does. abby groans audibly, she wishes she would’ve done it louder. well, she wishes she could scream in dr. cosby’s face, but she isn’t trying to get kicked out of the CICCU before she’s fully healed.

“usual nurse is out.” the mean nurse spits. ‘usual nurse’? so she can’t find the courtesy to learn your name?

“out where?” abby questions.

“on a… date.” she hisses.

oh shit, abby grins. a date with a woman i bet. dr. cosby isn’t happy about that.

and then it hits her.

oh shit… abby frowns. you’re on a date with someone else right now. you decided to spend the night with another woman, ditching your usual visits with abby. this hurts. her heart twists with jealousy, suddenly the room is spinning, and she has to turn and face the wall before dr. cosby can catch her weeping into her blanket like a little kid.

abby hasn’t seen you once since the night before your date. when the mean nurse comes back in the morning, she discharges abby and orders a soldier to escort her to the lodge she and lev are to share. so that’s it? she’s never gonna see you again? lev is out at school when she gets there, so abby has the whole place to herself until he gets back. she finds herself staring into the mirror for an unhealthy amount of time. christ, she looks different. her hair is short and choppy, although it’s gotten longer since she’s arrived. her muscles are almost completely gone. whatever the lack of training couldn’t remove, malnutrition withered away. she has scars all over her face and arms, her skin is still bumpy and blistered from the overexposure to the california sun. she looks… smaller? not tall and buff and scary anymore, but weak. fragile. she doesn’t look like abby. and that’s a terrifying thought.

she spends about an hour in the shower, scrubbing the hospital scent off of her skin and running her fingers through her short hair. she decides to spent the rest of the day orienting herself in this new space. she’s never lived in a real house before, and she feels like an alien trying to do so. lev finds her laying on the couch, studying the bumps and ridges in the ceiling.

“abby?” he calls from the doorway, slinging his backpack off of his shoulders. the poor kid almost cries when he sees her, out of excitement or fear, nobody knows. abby tries to pick him up as he throws himself at her body, but she can’t anymore. she doesn’t have the strength with how much she’s been weakening and how much lev has been growing. this crushes her even more, but she settles for a firm squeeze to the kid, and realizes how much her ribs do still hurt.

she doesn’t sleep well that night, it’s not the same without you. she misses your heavy voice lulling her to sleep and the euphoria she got from laughing with you. something deep and heavy settles in her stomach when she remembers you now spend your nights with someone else. she’s jealous. and she’s sad. overwhelmed from being in such a new place. and she misses you. and tonight when she sleeps, it’s dreamless and restless and leaves her even more exhausted.

you miss abby. you didn’t know the night you were gone would be the night she got discharged, and you wonder if this is a coincidence or if it’s some evil plan from dr. cosby. your date wasn’t even a date anyways. the girl you were meeting showed up to the diner, but left after a few minutes after saying she needed to freshen up. you saw her leave out of the back door. so you snaked on soggy fries and day-old fish until you got fed up and went home and cried into your pillow. was dr. cosby right? are you really not likable? to make matters worse, now that abby is gone you don’t have any more easy patients. you have to take care of a snappy old man who was in a boating accident. nobody can tell if he’s suffering from brain damage or if he’s just stupid, and it’s starting to drive you mad.

you miss abby. you miss watching her sleep, how her sweet face would contort into an expression of pure bliss as she finally had a peaceful dream, and how sometimes she would reach out and hold your hand for a few hours while she slept. she might be the only person on this whole island who likes you.

you two don't run into each other for about a month. the community you live in is small, but the whole island is divided into communities of about the same size. abby is sentenced to a desk job, something she'd never seen herself doing. she spends all day crunching numbers, scribbling things down on various documents and punching in even more symbols on her calculator. she's surprisingly good at it, her brain works efficiently and she's incredible at finding mistakes and working through them. lev teases her about becoming a nerd, but he's the one who voluntarily stays after school for tutoring, so she teases him right back.

you run into her right before one of your shifts, picking up a prescription from the pharmacy and dropping by her workplace to pick up some more documents. you freeze in your tracks when you see her, awkwardly blurting out an "abby! wow, uh... you look good."

and it's true. she looks better than good, she's glowing. her hair looks softer and fluffier now that it's not matted from the pillows, her skin is clearing up and restoring its natural color (which is a lot more peaceful than the burnt red it was), and she looks fuller. not nearly as big and muscular as she used to be, but she's started to gain some weight back and finally doesn't look tiny. abby notices you staring, taking in her new appearance. "thanks... so do you." she chuckles.

"i didn't know they cleared you to work." you stammer. actually, you didn't know anything about her ever since she was suddenly good to go, which you've decided is definitely dr. cosby's fault. so the two of you spend the rest of the night chatting and catching up with one another. she tells you about her job, her house, and how good lev is doing in school. you tell her about some of your newest patients, and when she asks about your date, you find pleasure in telling her that it was terrible. abby feels giddy after hearing this, not that she gets a kick out of your humiliation, but she's happy to know that you're single, and that you regret ditching her that night.

the time completely slips away from both of you, and before you know it you're an hour late for work. "shit!" you jump. "god, i'm sorry. i gotta go, i'm about to get fired!" you cry as you run down the hallway and out of the building. she laughs at this, tidying up her desk before clocking out and waking herself home. she sleeps very well that night, knowing that you're single and that you're willing to be late to work just to talk to her.

she greets you two days later with coffee outside of your office. "glad to see you didn't get fired." she jokes, you roll your eyes. "if i get written up one more time i'm done for." neither of your bosses are in today, so you finally have some peace to do your job without being yelled at. when you're not meeting with a patient, you let abby follow you around like a lost puppy, you notice how soft her hands have become when you grab them and tug her along next to you.

"thanks?" she mutters, cheeks sparkling with a pretty pink blush.

"oh, shit, i didn't mean to say that out loud." you cringe. "but it's true. they're very soft."

abby blushes impossibly more at this, so you like her hands? does that... mean anything? you're so forward with her it makes her a little dizzy, it's hard to keep up with your subtle flirtatious remarks when she can barely look at you without stuttering and tripping over herself. you're like a savior to her. you are her savior, if you didn't patch her up after her and lev had arrived, would she still be here? if she didn't get eaten alive by an infection she might've offed herself after the countless exhausting interactions with the mean nurse.

“how did you know how i take my coffee?” you ask suddenly. abby doesn’t know how to answer. well, she does, actually. but she’s too shy to say that sometimes she’d wake up and watch you while she was supposed to be sleeping. you’d place your coffee cup on her nightstand and flick on the lamp next to it, and then instantly stick your nose in a book. when she got done studying your face, she memorized the books you liked and the coffee you drank.

“if you’re stalking me, i won’t be upset.” you joke. abby laughs awkwardly, still calculating her answer in her mind.

“i dunno, i just know you, i guess.” she finally responds.

“fair, but now i feel bad because i don’t know how you take your coffee.” you frown. she chuckles, dismissing your concern.

“no, seriously. i feel like i barely know you, and i miss getting to know you ever since the mean nurse discharged you the night i was out.” you tell her. she can’t see where you’re going with this, so she just freezes and waits for you to make it obvious. “we should go out for coffee sometime. this weekend, maybe, if you’re free.”

are you asking her on a date? platonically or romantically? do you actually like her as much as she likes you? abby stares at the ground as she thinks about what to say again. “if you don’t want to, that’s okay.” you smile. “i won’t be offended.”

“i-” she starts, trying to speak deliberately as to not stumble over her words. “i do want to. that would be really great.”

you plant a kiss on her cheek as she turns to leave, heading to her own job instead of yours. she barely registers it, giggling and swatting you away before realizing that you kissed her. she halts her stroll when she finally processes it, reaching her fingers up to feel over the spot your lips pressed to. her cheeks turn beet red as she replays what happened, and fuck, she wants you to do it again. she debates running back into the hospital to beg for another kiss, but decides not to make a fool of herself. not today, at least.

her shift passes in what feels like forever. she wants to see you again, she wants it to be the weekend so badly. curse the calendar for deeming today a thursday, and curse your work schedule for not letting you go on a date with her now.

she clocks out excitedly as soon as her shift is over, practically jogging home to meet lev for dinner. they eat on the couch, watching some old dvd of a pre-breakout day cartoon. lev falls asleep as the show crawls on, so she has to face the disappointment of shaking him awake, wishing she still had the strength to pick him up. she watches as he waddles with all ten of his blankets to his bedroom, and then collects the dishes to scrub them off in the sink.

just as sleep is about to take her, she bolts awake with a great idea. shoving her shoes on, she jogs back out of the door, practically sprinting to the hospital to catch you before you clock in for the night. when you see her standing behind you, you jump backwards and yelp, almost knocking over a cart full of needles. “god, abby!” you curse. “you scared the shit outta me.”

“sorry…” she smiles sheepishly, a look you’ve grown to love.

“what are you doing here?” you question. “are you hurt?”

“no, i just wanted to see you. i couldn’t sleep, if that counts as an ailment.” she says, lying through her teeth. she was about to sleep soundly knowing your date was only in a few days.

“well, i’m glad to know you’re okay, but you really need to work on prioritizing your sleep.” you scold her, but you can’t help but melt at the dopey smile on her lips.

“yes, doctor.” she laughs, rolling her eyes. “are we still on for this weekend?”

“of course, if you’re not a zombie by the time we get to saturday.” you smile, nudging her with your elbow.

“alright, sorry,” she sighs theatrically. “i guess i’ll leave you alone now.”

“i’m sorry for kissing you on the cheek earlier.” you blurt out, although you probably should just let the moment be. “it was just… muscle memory i guess.”

“muscle memory?” she asks, dumbfounded.

“i dunno, sorry, it was definitely inappropriate. but you used to ask me for a small peck whenever i woke you up from your night terrors. i’d be surprised if you remember it, though. we had you on some pretty hefty meds.”

abby has always had trouble sleeping. as a kid, she’d have terrible nightmares that she couldn’t wake up from on her own. her dad would nudge her awake, and then soothe her back to sleep with a firm kiss on the cheek. it helped every time, and she slept like a baby knowing her dad would protect her. after he passed, the nightmares were more frequent, and there was no one to calm her down once she woke.

that must’ve been why she’d wake up screaming, eyes open yet unable to focus as you calmed her down to the best of your ability. you’d take her heart rate and blood pressure to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, and then stroke her short hair while she fell back to sleep. she’d huff and kick for the first few minutes, and then reach out for your hand, guiding it to the apple of her cheek. you thought at first she wanted something cool against her burning skin, but once you moved your hand away, she demanded a kiss in a raspy and very delirious voice.

“no, it’s okay, really.” she assures you. “it’s a comfort thing i used to do with my dad. you don’t need to feel bad, i promise.”

“go to sleep, princess abby.” you demand again. “i’ll see you saturday.”

with a smirk, abby turns and walks back out the door she came in. she slips back through her front door as silently as she can, and falls asleep thinking about all the ways she’s embarrassed herself in front of you. how many more times can she do it? and how long until she cuts the shit and admits her feelings for you?

saturday comes quicker than abby would like. ever since that night, she couldn’t help but fret about your feelings toward her. did you really kiss her out of muscle memory, or did you genuinely want to? her heart warmed at the sweet gesture of you soothing her back to sleep on the nights her dreams were infiltrated with death and fear and abandonment, but did you do that with all of your patients?

she tried to ignore these thoughts as they came up, but it was nearly impossible to. she dressed herself in a beige sweater and a pair of jeans, tucking her hair behind her ears and accessorizing with a black hair clip. she looks gorgeous. it’s hard not to faint when you see her, the fluttering in your stomach keeping you on your feet.

the pair of you sit tucked away in a cafe booth, chatting away like time isn’t real. you’re surprised to learn that abby knows quite a bit about medicine, the knowledge coming from her father who was a doctor too. she tells you stories of her childhood, and you can see the resemblance between her and her dad, she treats lev just as well as her dad treated her. you don’t mention this, though, because you can tell she’s starting to tear up the more she talks about him.

when the conversation slows down, you decide to bite the bullet and ask her something that’s been on your mind. “abby? can i ask you something?”

“shoot.” she says.

“do you… like me?” you try. “i mean— i dunno. i’ve never really had friends before, not like you. i guess i just wanna know if you enjoy hanging out with me, or if you’re just doing this because i seem desperate.”

“of course i like you.” she affirms. “i’ve never met anyone as sweet or as gentle as you, and i’ve met a lot of people.”

“okay, cool. good. i like you too.” you say, reaching out to grab her hand that’s resting on the table. she smiles and squeezes your hand, looking deeply into your eyes.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask.

sand fills the holes in your shoes as the two of you stroll the beach hand in hand. abby still has that giddy feeling in her stomach, although she still can’t tell if you’re actually into her or if you just wanna be friends. you did mention just friends earlier, but you’re also holding her hand sweetly in yours.

you don’t know how to explain your feelings for abby. she’s such a sweet girl, and she’s a few years younger than you. you want her all to yourself, you want to take all of her pain and suffering away and start a family with her. you wanna run away with her and live in a small beach house together. but is that crazy? you’ve only known her for about four months at this point, how long is too long to wait? how long is too short? you don’t wanna overwhelm her, she just started a completely new life after escaping seattle where all of her friends and family were murdered in front of her. it’s obvious she’s still grieving, missing the family she created and the life she had.

when you reach the top of the hill, you sit and dangle your feet off of the mini cliff, looking out at the horizon painted in front of you. abby takes a seat next to you, wrapping both of her hands around yours. you smile at her, proud of how far she’s come ever since rolling in half-dead and practically fried. she looks human now, and she looks really… pretty.

“you flatter me too much.” she says with a shy smile.

you groan. jesus christ, you need to stop thinking out loud before it kills you.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make things weird.” you cringe again.

“it’s not weird. i think you’re pretty too.”

your heart skips a beat at this. it’s too late, your habit of thinking out loud is about to kill you right now. because your lips are on abby’s and you’re kissing her with all of your might. her lips taste like honey and coffee, a sweet mix of flavors that you’ll crave for the rest of your life.

“is it weird that i just kissed my doctor?” she asks.

“i’m not your doctor. i’m the crazy person who’s job was to watch you sleep in case you had seizures or heart attacks.”

she giggles at this, leaning in to capture your lips in another sweet kiss. you both stay there until sunset, giggling and kissing and chatting like little kids in love.

to your dismay, you get up and leave as soon as the sunset fades, not wanting to be stranded at sea in pitch black darkness. abby walks you home, arm thrown over your shoulders. you frown when you reach your own cabin, not wanting to leave her. “can i see you tomorrow?” you ask, praying she’ll say yes.

“of course,” she says. “i’ll be here.”

it’s impossible for you to sleep after the incredible day you just had. you keep licking your lips in hope that the honey-coffee taste will still be lingering, but it’s not. tomorrow can’t come soon enough, and now you feel bad for teasing abby about her lack of sleep because you finally get it.

abby sleeps soundly tonight. all of her fears are dissolved floating away like ashes in the wind. she feels free. finally ready to start a new chapter of her life now that she’s escaped the tragedies from seattle and the torture from santa barbara.

you wake up bright and early the next morning, showering and cooking and cleaning and dressing yourself as efficiently as you can. the excitement of seeing her again fuels your motivation, but once your whole lodge is spotless, it’s hard to find something to do with your energy. you sigh in relief when abby knocks on your door ten minutes early, her brain must be in sync with yours.

as you open the door, you practically jump into her arms. she pulls you in for a big bear hug, seeming to have missed you just as much as you’ve missed her.

you have nothing planned, so you snack on a box of cookies while sitting in bed, staring out of the window that overlooks the ocean. it’s a gloomy day, but it’s nice to people watch and gossip about various things you’ve heard through the grapevine.

after a while you get tired, and abby lets you rest your head on her shoulder in case you wanna fall asleep. you don’t, though. no matter how heavy your eyelids get, you force yourself to enjoy every second that passes with her. well, there is something you wanna do with her, but you’re not too sure how she feels about it.

“abby? can i ask you another weird question?”

“always.” she laughs.

“do you wanna have sex with me?”

her heart thrums harder in her chest, and heat spreads from her cheeks to her ears.

“sorry, i shouldn’t ha—”

“yes.” she interrupts. “but, i— it’s been a while. i’m not very… i dunno…”

“if you don’t want to it’s fine.” you assure her. “it’s also fine if you wanna just lay there and let me do the work, i don’t mind.”

she nods at the second option, leaning back and throwing her shirt off while you do the same. her abdomen is less bloody and bruised than you remember, but you can still see her ribs and a few scars. she blushes when she catches you staring, leaning back timidly.

“don’t be nervous, abby. i’m a doctor, i’ve seen bodies. especially yours, and i think you’re beautiful.”

she blushes harder at this, but laughs and says “i thought you were a creepy nurse who watches people sleep, not a doctor.”

you giggle and shut her up with a kiss, reaching down to unbutton her jeans. “can i?” you ask.

“yes, please, fuck.”

as soon as you get her jeans down, you tug her boxers down too. sure you should wait, and it might be polite to engage in a little foreplay, but you’re craving her right now. her bush is curly in the center, right where is dripping wet, and she has a beautiful blonde happy trail that crawls all the way up to her belly button. she’s so hot you might need an oxygen tank.

“the quicker you stop staring and fuck me, the quicker we can get you that oxygen tank.” she laughs.

“oh god… i didn’t mean to say that. again.”

you tug your own underwear off and sit your cunt right on top of hers. abby intertwines her legs with yours, and the angle lets you slide across her perfectly. “jesus christ.” she moans, currently unable to control the noises she’s making.

she’s so sensitive it drives you mad. the last time she hooked up with anyone was more than a year ago, and ever since then she’s been prioritizing keeping herself alive over jacking off. whenever your clits bump, you feel a small, warm splash of her squirt against your cunt, and it makes you more aroused than you’ve ever been.

it gets very messy very quickly. your lips crash together in a heated and very wet kiss, and your cunts are creating a pile of slick that’s currently dripping down abby’s ass and making a puddle on the bed. you can’t tell if you’re dizzy because of your arousal, sleepiness, or love for her, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

abby cums after only a few minutes, and when she does she twitches and writhes and squeals so much you think you might have to sedate her. you keep grinding on her until you cum, which quickly overstimulates her even further until you’re almost positive she’s blacked out or something.

when you come down from your own high, you scoot yourself off of her. two clear strings of slick connect you to her, but eventually break and drip down onto the bed. she sighs when you lay next to her.

“was that good?” you ask.

“fuck. i think i need the oxygen mask more than you do.” she pants. you laugh and wrap your arms around her, ready to get a few minutes of cuddling in before you force your aftercare routine upon her.

she sighs. “thanks for taking care of me.”

“you know i’ll always take care of you, abby. right? just because i’m not your nurse anymore doesn’t mean i don’t love you anymore.”

“you love me?”

“ever since the day i met you.”

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: virgin!sub!Jisung x fangirl!Dom!fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Corruption kink (ish). Blowjob. He's a lil lost in the sauce.

| wc: 5.5k

| aurora's note: shout out to @floresmu3rtas for being my co-conspirator for this one. pt 2 coming soon on her blog hehehee

| part two (written by @floresmu3rtas) // part three

What an odd turn of events the night of your concert took… On the way to the stadium, you and your friends talked about getting burgers after the show to cure your inevitable post-concert depression, and once you were in bed, you’d sit down in pajamas and go through all of the freebies you guys collected. It sounded like fun. After all, you just spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars going to see NCT Dream live for the first time ever, so why wouldn’t you go early to collect freebies, record all the videos possible, then go home and reflect on the fun night with your friends? But on your way out of the show, you were stopped. A security guard came out from behind  the barricade while the crowds slowly shuffled towards the exit, and he approached your friend group directly. He wore all black and a mask to cover his face… It was leagues different from the stadium’s security who wore bright yellow shirts and looked like they wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed instead of having to make sure some idiot fangirls didn’t try to climb onto the stage.

“My boss wants to talk to you,” he said directly to you, unflinching when you were struck with so much confusion that you looked around at your friends for an explanation they couldn’t provide.

“Am I in trouble?” you asked.

“No.”

So, albeit reluctantly, you handed your bag of freebies and your lightstick to your friends before following the man through the hole in the barricade that was covered up by stadium security once you were in, and you were casually led backstage where the staff was working to take down the set in order to transport it to the next tour stop in two days. Every once in a while, the security guard would glance over his shoulder to make sure that you were following him. Of course you were. There were so many staff members running around that you feared getting lost or dragged away in the chaos of it all, so you stuck close to him. When he dove into a side room, you followed. Standing there was a manager you recognized from Twitter posts of the members at airports— He was Jisung’s manager, specifically… And beside him was a woman you didn’t recognize, but she welcomed you with a smile even though the manager and the security guard didn’t.

“Welcome,” she said kindly. Your anxiety was eased by her somewhat. “Sorry for jumping you like this and everything, I know you’re probably confused and a bit scared.” You blushed in response, unsure of what to say. Were you in trouble… Or… “One of our bosses wants to talk to you privately later, but our job is to make sure that you’re okay with talking to him, and that whatever kind of… conversation… happens, that it stays private between the two of you.”

Oh?

She gestured to the manager who put a small stack of papers on the coffee table that sat between you and them. “I’m a lawyer for SM, and this is one of the managers for the group. If you’d like to talk to our boss as much as he’d like to talk to you, we’re here to witness before anything else happens that you sign these papers.”

You stepped forward to find what you already knew in the back of your mind since you were stopped with your friends, yet you refused to admit it until you saw the words “NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT” typed at the top of the document. Fuck. Okay… Sure… It was happening… The unrealistic Y/N type of story you read a million times over on the internet somehow graced your reality, and of all people, it seemed that it was Jisung who wanted to “talk” to you… Fuck. Shit. Okay. Fuck.

“You don’t have to sign, if you don’t want to. I want to make that clear,” the lawyer continued.

“No, I’ll sign,” you replied quickly before your thoughts could catch up to your mouth. You blushed at your eagerness. It seemed a bit pathetic to jump at the opportunity so quickly with little to no information from the other three people standing in the room— And why the hell did Jisung want to “talk” to you? What the fuck was going on!

The lawyer smiled and sat on the couch beside the coffee table, and she gestured for you to join her, so you did. The security guard remained at the door, and the manager sat across from you. “All this legal nonsense basically just states that you can’t tell anyone about what happens tonight between you and any of the members of the group and any staff members, including myself. You can’t record audio or visuals of any situation. You can’t post any details on social media. If you break any of these regulations, then the company has the right to sue you for breach of contract, and there’s usually a fine involved. If any kind of pornography were to be recorded and/or distributed, you’ll be sued by the company for breach of contract and distribution of revenge pornography.” She chuckled nervously to mirror your own reaction, then she put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I know it’s overwhelming. Again, you don’t have to sign, and you’re free to leave at any point. And you should know that if anything illegal happens, you do have the right to go to the police, and you won’t be sued for breach of contract. Okay?”

You nodded vaguely.

“We’ll give you a few minutes to read and decide if you still want to sign. After that, if you sign, we’ll take you to see our boss. If you don’t want to sign, that’s alright too, we’ll just help you find a way home, alright?”

You nodded again.

“Okay.”

She gestured to the security guard and the manager who stepped out of the room while she went to a mini fridge in the corner of the room so that she could grab a soda as she scrolled through her phone, pretending not to hover in order to give you space to make your decision. You’d be stupid not to sign, right? If you were ever allowed to tell your friends— Which, obviously the NDA in front of you was airtight, so you wouldn’t be able to, but… If they knew, and if you didn’t sign, they would slap you silly for fucking up the chance to spend time with Jisung. You had to sign. Of course you did. Right? Shit. Reading the document made it scarier because the whole situation was becoming all too real.

Ah, fuck it.

You picked up the pen next to the papers, and you flipped to the last page to sign. The lawyer immediately looked up and pocketed her phone, striding to return to you so that she could collect the signed papers.

“Alright, I’ll have the security guard outside take you to the hotel the boys are staying at. I’m sure you understand that you’ll be led there discreetly, and once you’re there, you can’t tell anyone about what happens. Yes?”

You nodded again. “Yes.”

“If something happens, though, if you need anything, here’s my number.” She handed you her business card. “And don’t forget, you can always say no… And, um… If you need to leave, you can.”

You stared at her. Was it wrong to sell your life away so carelessly like that? She was distributing her warnings like there was prior experience, and you hoped that it had nothing to do with what you were about to confront. Still, your legs carried you to the door where the security guard was standing, and once the manager in the hallway noticed the signed papers, he walked off to go handle something while the security guard turned to lead you through the corridors of the stadium to the backstage garage. There, a black van was waiting with the engine running. The security guard climbed in, and you followed, then another guard closed the van’s door. With two brief thuds on the backside of the car, the driver started off out of the garage.

The drive to the hotel was a silent one. Neither the driver nor the security guard sitting next to you said anything. While you stared out the window, asking yourself what was going to happen, the security guard texted on his phone. You wondered if it was about work, if he was texting the manager or Jisung about where you were, and that you’d signed the NDA, and that you were shaking with anxiety. How many girls had they done this with? How many different girls had Jisung spotted in the crowd, despite the bright stage lights that made it next to impossible to see anything at all 

At the hotel, everything was just as quiet as the car ride, most people already asleep or at least in the comfort of their rooms, save for the one employee at the front desk in the lobby who only greeted you with a smile as you passed by to follow the security guard to the elevator. No one joined you on the way up to the seventh floor. And no one interrupted you as the security card swiped the key to the sixth room and opened the door for you to step inside.

“He’ll be here in about ten minutes.” That was all he said before closing the door on you.

So you waited. Awkwardly. Standing in the middle of the hotel room, the bed a mess from what you assumed had to have been his mid-day nap before the show, his suitcase left open on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed, his toiletries neatly sorted on the bathroom counter. Boredom struck fast, and though you certainly didn’t feel comfortable touching anything, you decided to look around a bit. He used Crest toothpaste, and whitening strips, which shocked you, truth be told. There were a plethora of hair and skin care products that all had Korean labels, so you were unsure what they were all for.

Before you knew it, the front door was opening, and in walked Jisung Park. He hesitated in the doorway, the door still open, the security guard and his manager standing behind him. For a moment, he stared at you in silence. While you were still dressed to the nines for the concert, Jisung was already in a matching set of gray sweats and wearing his glasses instead of contacts. The only remnants from the concert were the sparkly stickers on his cheek and his stage make up.

He turned to whisper something in Korean to the men behind him before he quietly closed the door and stayed with his back turned to you for a minute. You were suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. There he was, an idol, the idol of your favorite group, and yet you couldn’t seem to jump with excitement because of his mundane reaction to having a woman— A fangirl— waiting for him in his hotel room. Were you not what he wanted? Did he mean for one of your other friends to be pulled out of the crowd?

Then, with swift, quick steps, Jisung walked right past you without a second glance. Maybe he was acting so casual because he was used to it, and it was you who was doing something wrong. Were you supposed to be on the bed already? Or waiting on the couch? Were you supposed to look at him or keep your eyes down? Were you supposed to greet him or was the whole exchange meant to be silent? Maybe he just wanted to fuck you then toss you to the side like idols were rumored to do.

Jisung let out a shaky sigh. He turned to you slowly, finally sending a smile in your direction before bowing at the hip and introducing himself in English… As if he needed to explain to you who he was… Only hours prior you’d been screaming his name at the top of your lungs while fighting to get his attention in the sea of other fangirls. Of course you knew who he fucking was, why else would you have signed that NDA? Still, you did the polite thing by introducing yourself briefly and quietly, unsure if he really cared for your name or not.

He stared at you for another moment. “Do you want anything? Water? Soda? Alcohol? I can order room service.”

You shook your head. “I’m alright, thank you.”

And then he stared at you again. “You’re a fan, yes?” He walked to the mini fridge to pull out a soda. You nodded. “Am I your favorite?”

“Yes.”

He blushed down at the can in his hand while he struggled to open it. You noticed then that his hands were shaking and his foot was tapping against the carpet nervously. He looked almost as anxious as you.

“Sorry, I’ve just...  I don’t know what I’m doing. This was a bad idea, I think… Fucking Jeno…”

“Hey, listen, we don’t have to do anything.”

Jisung looked at you suddenly, the panic in his eyes wavering with the little bit of hope provided by your words. “Jjinja?”

“Yeah.”

He exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry about all this.” He set down the soda, abandoning the thought of fighting to open it any longer. “Was, um, was the show fun?”

“My friends and I had a lot of fun. It’s the first time we’ve seen you perform live. Did you have fun?”

“Yes.” His English seemed mildly limited, so he kept his answers brief in order to not embarrass himself, not that you would’ve minded.

Silence lingered again, the two of you unsure of what to do with yourselves. Eventually, Jisung figured it was more comfortable to pass the awkward time by sitting on the couch, his coke defrosting on the table next to him. Did he not like you? Did he not want you? Was he too shy or nice to kick you out? You wished he would just say what was on his mind rather than leave you to fend for yourself, flailing desperately in a situation you had no familiarity with. So in an attempt to figure out what he actually wanted, you poked the bear.

“We could try one thing, if you wanted.”

Like a deer lost in headlights, Jisung continued to stare at you with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Like what?”

“I could give you a blow job.”

He choked on air.

“But if you don’t want to, we can just talk… Or I can leave… Whatever makes you happy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he muttered under his breath, looking down at his fidgeting hands. 

You didn’t really catch what he said. The quiet volume of his scared voice and the broken English made you reconsider if you even heard it at all.

Warily sitting next to him, you pried, “What do you mean?”

Jisung bit his swollen bottom lip. “I’ve never…” And then he rubbed a cool palm on the back of his neck to keep it from turning red with embarrassment, even though it was far too late. “I’ve never, um… Done that.”

For a moment, you wondered if there was a language barrier blocking you from understanding what he really meant. Then he looked at you with those wide, innocent eyes, and you knew the truth. He really hadn’t… Not even a blowjob? Or fingering a girl? Was that why he was so shy with  you— Not because you were a fan in his hotel room? You couldn’t help but laugh with relief. Jisung’s face fell and his body slumped with defeat.

“I’m not laughing at you!” you promised through one last giggle. “I thought you just didn’t like me or something.”

He panicked. “No, no! I think you’re really pretty…” He smiled through a blush that made him avert his gaze once more. “Jjinja… Geundae…” The cogs in his brain were working to find the right words in English. “I am… embarrassed… I don’t know what to do.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything.”

That made him appear more self-conscious.

“I could teach you.”

It looked like he was about to pass out when you said that, endless possibilities forming behind his eyes that were slowly glazing over with lust. His eyes were so cute. When he looked like he was silently pleading for you to do just that, because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words confidently, you just about swooned thanks to the cuteness aggression twisting in your stomach. It was a wonder how a guy like him was a virgin with no experience. Since he was an idol, you just assumed off the bat, and because of the lawyer’s concerning warnings at the stadium, that he’d pulled aside plenty of girls and fucked them into different hotel mattresses then had them escorted out once he was done. But no. It sounded like maybe some of the others were used to that, but not Jisung. His bouncing leg and fidgeting hands over his lap directed your attention down to the erection growing in his sweatpants. Was he really that worked up just at the thought of having a fan blow him off? He should’ve just said so the second he walked through the front door instead of making you think he was regretting asking for you.

Still, you triple checked for consent before daring to touch him. “Do you want to?” It was as simple as you could make the question for him.

“Ne— Yes! Yes…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Finally, with a smile, you inched closer to him on the couch, his body tensing up slightly in response, but he didn’t move or say anything to stop you. You stared at his lips while he stared at your tits. Obviously you’d worn something revealing in the hopes of getting your silly Y/N moment, but it was a pipe dream at the time, and now it was your reality.

“Here.” You took one of his shaky hands from his lap and lifted it to your breasts, guiding him to press his palm over one of them. He let out a shaky breath that made you feel the warmth on the tip of your nose. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” He nodded quickly. “When?”

“In high school… And once at the company… And… on New Year's Eve.”

He remembered all of his kisses? Adorable.

“Kiss me, then.”

Jisung hesitated, his breath still hot on your nose; But with a light squeeze around your covered boob, he leaned in and pressed his plump lips against yours. That was all he did. He pecked you, but he didn’t put effort into making out with you, with or without tongue. Maybe that was all those silly kisses in the past had been. So instead of interrogating him more, you took the lead, showing him how to do it properly by tilting your head the other way then sticking your tongue into his mouth. Jisung moaned followed by another squeeze that made you mewl in response.

It took him a bit to learn. The noticeable hesitancy in his kisses and touches indicated that he was worried about scaring you off at any moment, but you tried your best to encourage him by leaning more into him and squeezing your hand over his so that he would massage your breasts more. Of his own volition, his other hand went to your chest as well. You grinned against his lips before drifting to kiss his sharp jawline that all your friends fawned over in group chats, then you left a trail of kisses down to his neck. You knew that you couldn’t leave any marks. As fun as it would be to leave a hickey there to let the rest of the world know that you were the first person who ever got him off, it would be more of a hassle to cover it with makeup and hide it until the bruising subsided than it was worse. She’d probably get yelled at by his manager or the group’s lawyer. So you refrained from doing everything you wanted…

Instead, you left gentle, fluttering kisses that made Jisung moan up into the still hotel air. He was so sensitive. Had no one kissed the rest of his body before? Had it only been his lips? Surely whoever it was at the company that kissed him— Perhaps another idol— or whichever lucky dunk girl kissed him on New Years thought to kiss his neck and collarbones. How could they not? His skin was so perfect, and the contrast between his natural skin tone and the makeup he was wearing made your head spin. You thought about what he would look like bare faced… Unfortunate that you would never get to see it up close. The best you were ever going to get was him in sweats and stage make up, his erection in full throttle in his pants.

Your hand moved from your own lap to his knee, causing Jisung to jolt slightly and whimper. You turned to kiss the other side of his neck. Jisung’s thumbs tried to stimulate your nipples over your clothes, but there was simply too much fabric in the way, so he whined again and went back to massaging them. However, his movements came to a standstill when you ran your splayed left hand up his thigh before settling directly over his hard-on.

“Ssibal,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

Your free hand grabbed his chin. “Look at me.” So he did, his eyes glossed over with so much pleasure that he couldn’t open them all the way. When you palmed him briefly, Jisung let out a gasp and hunched forward slightly, his eyes really struggling to stay open for you now. “Does it feel good?”

“Ne.”

As your hand found the drawstring of his sweatpants, you released his chin so that you could slide off the couch and fall to your knees, multitasking between undoing his pants and crawling between his legs that he spread in order to accommodate you while he leaned back against the couch. Jisung watched you studiously. You could tell that behind those glasses of his, he was trying to memorize every detail of you and what you were doing for his spank-bank. The way you looked up at him through your lashes while you expertly untied his pants and helped him lift his hips so that you could pull his sweats down to his ankles. The way you teased him over his boxers for a minute just to get a visceral reaction out of him that made you giggle. The way you took off his underwear so easily. And, of course, what that first touch around his cock felt like.

Jisung’s hands balled into fists around the hem of his sweatshirt. “Fuck—” When your thumb ran over his tip, he shivered and squeezed his thighs together. “Fuck—“

You grinned. Poor thing already couldn’t tell left from right or up from down. Perhaps you could remind him by slowly pumping your fist up and down his length. Jisung wasn’t exactly what you expected. In all the fanfics you’d read about him, and all the times you speculated with friends, you never really stopped to imagine anything beyond his length. People liked to say he had a big cock. He did. Though, much of it had to do with said length you always theorized over, while his girth was just enough to fit in your hand that was wrapped around it. His tip was a dark shade somewhere between brown and pink, and the rest of him was dark and veiny… like his shaking hands. 

“You can touch me,” you told him.

His hands remained clasped around the fabric of his sweatshirt. You saw a bit of hesitancy, a twitch like he wanted to touch you, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for whatever reason, so you continued what you were doing, jerking him off slowly until you saw precum seeping out of his tip. You grinned before licking it up suddenly. Jisung groaned and jerked again, his hands reaching to touch you before they retreated to his sweatshirt again. You watched him through your lashes as you replaced your fist with your mouth wrapped around his tip, your cheeks hollowing before you sunk down. His body couldn’t keep still. Even though you were trapped between his knees, his legs were desperately trying to close in around your shoulders, and his feet were tapping against the carpet at the same fast pace that his long, veiny fingers were fiddling with his sweatshirt.

As you came up for air, your hand pumped him slowly, and you asked with a grin, “Is this okay?”

He nodded desperately. “Please don’t stop.”

You obliged his pathetic plea, your mouth sinking back down, taking in his entire length until your nose bumped his shaved pubic bone. He whimpered like a wounded puppy, but his hips bucked up gently to encourage you to keep going. So you did. You found a steady rhythm switching between sucking him off and jerking him off, making sure to swallow every bit of sticky pre-cum he leaked into your mouth. He was covered in drool, but he didn’t seem to mind since it provided more lubrication for you to go faster and faster, prying the cutest, most pitiful moans you had ever heard in your entire life. Honestly, by the looks and sounds coming from him, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Virgins. They were always the most sensitive and eager to cum quickly.

“Gidarida— Ssibal, I’m cumming, fuck—”

There it was.

Jisung bit his lip and bucked up into your mouth while holding your head down. With his strong hold on you, all you could really do was use your tongue to rub against his cock while he rode out his orgasm. The amount of cum that filled your mouth was slightly surprising— You tried your best to swallow, but you were running out of air, until he finally released you, giving you a chance to lift up and breathe before cleaning up the mess dripping down his length. He slumped with an exhausted grunt.

After catching his breath for a moment, he opened his eyes to look down at you while you were wiping your lips with your thumb. “Are you okay?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah.”

“Sorry if I… Um… If you couldn’t breathe…”

You laughed out loud. “I’m fine, I promise. Did it feel good?”

Jisung blushed a bright color of red while nodding. He lifted his hips so that he could put his pants back on before raising his hood over his shaggy black hair.

When he noticed you moving to stand on your feet, Jisung leaned forward to offer his hands for you, which you gladly took, using his strength and leverage to push yourself up; However, once you were up, Jisung didn’t move you to the couch like you wanted, nor did he start leading you towards the front door like you half expected. No, Jisung acted like a gentleman, leading you to the bed where he had you sit down comfortably.

“I have some clean clothes you can wear if you want to be more comfortable,” he offered shyly.

Now it was your turn to stare like a deer lost in headlights. Why was he offering his clothes to you? How could he offer up something like that so freely— Then again, maybe wearing his clothes was more tame than sucking him off after only just meeting him for the first time.

“Sure.”

Jisung turned to his suitcase on the luggage rack and he began digging around for some clothes.

“And I’ll take you up on that water now,” you croaked.

Jisung nodded obediently, rushing to the mini fridge to grab a bottle before handing it to you then going back to looking for clothes. He ended up retrieving one of the merch shirts available at the stadium earlier— One that you actually bought despite your achingly empty wallet— and a pair of gray sweats eerily similar to his. After handing the clothes to you, he whispered something about going to wash his face in the bathroom in the meantime. You watched as Jisung timidly scurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind him, either for his privacy or his own, you weren't too sure, and then you heard the sink running. For a good thirty seconds, you were paralyzed on the bed, holding his clothes in your hands, staring at the couch you’d just given him a blowjob on. Jisung Park had only kissed four people in his lifetime, and  you were one of them. Even worse, you were the first and only person to ever suck him off… The first and only person to ever make him cum… What the fuck…

You forced yourself out of your trance of disbelief so that you could change before he was done. You folded your own clothes neatly since you’d probably have to wear them out of the hotel later, but you kept your underwear and bra on for safety purposes. Besides, it was his clothes you were wearing, you felt too awkward to go completely naked underneath. And as you were taking down your hair, you heard the water shut off followed by Jisung asking if he could come out. When you told him it was safe, the door reopened and he stepped out.

He gulped when he saw you. “You really are very pretty.”

To hide your blush, you drank from the water bottle he gave you. Jisung moved across the hotel room, initiating the next segment of the night where he laid on his side in the messy bed, leaving plenty of space for you while he watched you anticipatingly.

“I thought you didn’t want to fuck.”

“I don’t,” he said with the most amount of confidence you’d heard from him all night, even in comparison to when he was on stage. “I just don’t want you to leave yet. Is that okay?”

The way you easily slid into bed, setting the water bottle down on the bedside table, was enough of an answer, but you still entertained him with a quiet, “That’s okay.”

Jisung shifted as you both worked to pull the covers up your torsos to keep warm. “I was going to wear that shirt for sound check tomorrow,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle. “It was the only clean one I had left.” You panicked, immediately sitting up to take it off while apologizing for being an inconvenience, but Jisung reached out to stop you. Both of you paused with his hands on your wrists. “It’s okay. I like seeing you wear it better.”

You looked away from him due to your own self-consciousness as you laid back down with him.

Both of you settled in the bed comfortably, his elbow propped on his pillow so that his hand could hold up his head while he stared at you. Part of you was too overwhelmed to look at him. Mere hours ago you’d been cheering at his concert as a stranger, and now he knew your name, and you’d sucked his cock. You weren’t really strangers anymore. But you weren’t friends or something other than that either. You were just an awkward one night stand that he would remember as “that one time in a hotel on tour” the next time some lucky girl would ask for his history before taking his virginity. Whoever she would be, she was damn lucky, and she didn’t even know it yet… It was a shame it couldn’t be you, honestly. Not because he was an idol you loved, but because he was so adorable, and hot, and well-equiped to fuck you. The idea of teaching him everything there was to know about fucking a girl, corrupting his innocent, bashful mind made you wet, but you had to clench your legs shut to make sure he wouldn’t find out or get suspicious after you’d change out of his clothes. Whenever that would be. Did he expect you to stay the night? Why else would he give you his clothes? What would the morning look like? What would everything after the morning look like?

“Have you ever thought about visiting Korea?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. I don’t have money like that though. Not yet, at least. Maybe one day I can go— I always wanted to see a concert there.” You giggled at the thought.

Jisung smiled back at you, his hand falling out from under him so that his cheek could hit the pillow while he continued to stare. He didn’t say anything else. You waited for him to instigate another conversation, and you wished that you could think of something to talk to him about aside from idol life or his personal life. You weren’t sure what was appropriate. But by the time you decided to ask him if he had any pets, Jisung was sound asleep next to you, a content smile still plastered to his face. You smirked and brushed his bangs out of his face.

[vrystalius]

Cuddling with a pillow instead of the hashira

As a test, you decided to ignore the hashira and cuddle with a comfortable pillow instead of them. How will they react?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He’d actually be very hurt. Surprisingly, Sanemi won’t grumble or complain to you about not being held. He believes you probably have a reason for it and that he had done something to upset you, so he’ll try not to annoy you further. He would silently lay beside you in bed, not being able to sleep. He’s gotten so used to being pampered with your soft caresses, your warmth and comforting smell. Now he can’t even sleep for one night without you even remotely touching him. Normally, when he has to sleep somewhere else due ti missions and you’re not there, Sanemi’d ask you to hold you a little longer during the night before to charge up on his cuddle-meter, but you now being ignored feels like withholding an addictive drug he got addicted to from him.

You really can’t ignore him for long, you expected him to say something or be openly annoyed, but his quietness is deafening. You abandoned your cuddle companion and rolled over, wrapping your arms around Sanemi’s broad back and cuddling onto him, big spooning his large body. Your face was nuzzled into his warm neck. You felt his muscles slowly soften. They felt incredibly tense for the first few seconds until he finally relaxed into your touch. A deep sigh escaped his lips.

“You were teasin’ me? You’re mean. I’m gonna ignore ya too if you do that again.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

His first reaction would be confusion. It was your and his nightly routine to cuddle together! Besides, you told Kyojuro so many times how you love to cuddle him because of the warmth and how perfectly your bodies fit together. So what changed? Was he the problem? Did he do something to upset you?

He’d carefully lay down beside you in bed, not sure if you even want him there right now, and give you your space. Your husband would be a little uneasy and keep moving around. Normally you’d be his pillow and now he doesn’t really have a comfortable position to sleep in. He’s just used to holding you every night. After a while of tossing and turning, Kyojuro would finally roll over to face you and ask you what’s wrong. You couldn’t help but grin a little at how his face started to brighten up again. The fact that this was just some silly test of yours and not that you’re mad at him made him extremely relieved. Your husband practically jumped back into your arms the second you opened them for him.

“Please just ask about reaction up front next time instead of testing me. I was so worried I’ve upset you!”

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei would think you have a reason for avoiding coming close to him. Perhaps you need some space to yourself and he will respect that. He’d quietly lay down beside you and not question your behaviour, instead focusing on trying to get back to sleep without your warmth anywhere near his body. He’ll try not to, but he can sense every single movement you did beside him. He’s trying not to think about further reasoning on why you’re doing this and what could be worrying your beautiful mind. Was it him or someone else that hurt you? Or are you having cramps again? If that were to be the case, Gyomei’d gladly warm up some stones to put onto your abdomen or massage your pain away, so why ignore him.

He cannot help but to finally ask you why you’re ignoring him. After hearing that it was just a test, Gyomei’s face still remained unmoving. Your husband wasn’t very fond of the way you executed your testing.

“I understand. Please tell me about future tests beforehand so I can prepare. I thought you needed space away from me.”

Giyu Tomioka

He’d silently lay beside you a moment, watching you hold the pillow against your chest. Doubt began to creep into his mind. Perhaps you don’t like being held by him or worse, you grew sick of him. Giyu pushed himself into a spiral of all kinds of worries and is now staring at the ceiling above, thinking about every worst possibility. He was lying completely still and not even changing positions out of comfort. He slowly rolled over, facing you.

“Do you prefer a pillow over me?”

His voice was a little shaky and very quiet. It was almost heartbreaking. Giyu looked like a kicked puppy after you turned to face him. His worried expression made you loose your cuddle pillow immediately and pull him into your arms, where he belongs. You had to reassure him that you prefer him over any pillow every day, and that you just wanted to test him this out to see his reaction. He side-eyes you while being nuzzled against your chest.

“Don’t do that again. Please.”

💠

Yes I know this isn’t a request somebody gave me but something of my own idea. I have a lot of requests that I need to get to and I will I promise, I don’t have enough energy to do that today :,) My cramps have been killing me a little and I don’t think I’d be able to do the asks justice and write them properly right now. I hope you enjoyed this anyway! I’ll post a request tomorrow again!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <3

Take care of yourselves!

[ayyy-pee]

hi lexi!! i hope you’re having a lovely day!! sooooo i saw you’re requests are open 👀 i totally loved your kny fics and was wondering if you’d write a little something about giyu and his wife experiencing the ups and downs of pregnancy?

AHHHH HI JESS!!! Thank you for sending in a request! I've been kind of itching to write Demon Slayer again lately so YES YES YES!!!! ABSOLUTELY!!!

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Demon Slayer Masterlist

Pairing: Tomioka Giyuu x Female Reader

Summary: Adjusting to being at home with you all the time is easy. Adjusting to this pregnancy, is not.

A little extra bit to Make It Stick!

“Let me help you.”

“I’ve got it.”

“But, you shouldn’t–”

“I’m pregnant, Giyuu. That doesn’t make me incapable of getting water. Doesn’t mean I cannot do our laundry. Or prepare a meal. Or stand up by myself.”

Giyuu watches as you, his wife, so beautiful and glowing in this stage of your late pregnancy, lean forward as you attempt to stand from your seated position on the floor. It’s unsuccessful, your very round belly limiting your motion. With a deep breath and a strained grunt, you try again. Giyuu struggles not to leap forward. You simply want a glass of water. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. But you’re strong, and he’s learned better than to get in the way of his determined spouse. So he simply stands rooted in his spot as your second attempt to stand turns out to be less successful than the first. And after about the fourth try, you reach for your husband. 

“Okay,” you pant heavily, waving your husband over. “The last one I may need help with.”

He smiles softly, quickly and carefully helping you to stand. 

As the days pass, and peace finally takes root throughout Japan, Giyuu finds himself spending most of his time home with you. There are no demons, no reason for the Hashira to gather unless it’s to simply catch up. And try as he might, Giyuu is not any more social than when he joined the ranks. There are no more late night excursions across prefectures. No need to ever lay his hand on a sword again.

The Hashira were lucky. They survived. But not without their own set of scars, both physical and mental. All that to say…

He’s restless.

- - - - - -

So, he was grateful that the day he had returned from a fight he did not think he’d come back from, he found you asleep, safe and sound in bed. He was so blinded by your beauty, by the glow the moonlight cast across your skin, that he failed to notice the roundness of you hidden beneath your blankets. He received quite the surprise when he slid into your bed and tried to wrap his arms around you, only to find your belly had grown quite a bit since he’d been gone.

The next morning, you happily showed off your new, round belly to your husband who donned a wide smile as you (and your child) modeled in his haori.

“You look…” His wide eyes drank in your ever-changing form. The bright smile on your face as your hands gently caressed your stomach, made his heart beat wildly behind his ribs. “There are no words,” he rasped, and he was surprised to see the immediate glassiness that overtook your eyes as you gazed at him. He wasn’t sure what triggered such a reaction, until you kneeled before him and cupped his face in your hands. You pressed your lips to his sweetly, and then your thumbs swiped along his cheeks. It was only then that he realized he was the one with the glassy eyes, the tears pouring down his face. You kissed him again, smiling when Giyuu finally gathered his thoughts enough to kiss you back.

You pull away, the both of you gazing softly into each other’s eyes, your love speaking so loudly in this silence. Until you snort, a soft giggle rushing past your lips.

“You can’t think of at least one word?”

- - - - - -

Adjusting to being home with you all the time was easy. Your presence was always comforting, always warm and cozy. Your presence was always gentle and soothing. You made anywhere feel like home. So being with you all the time…it was easy. Adjusting to your pregnancy was not.

It was adjusting to your mood swings. You once had Giyuu quivering in fear, backed into a corner as you let him have it over placing a utensil in the “wrong spot”. He had never seen you so worked up before, your fists trembling as you laid into him. He apologized profusely, swearing he would be careful and apologizing with a back rub later in the night that had you in tears, blubbering your own string of apologies for how you treated him earlier.

No apologies were needed. Giyuu had forgiven you the moment you had raised your voice.

But, Giyuu thinks you could have even struck fear into Muzan had he been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of your wrath.

Another time, he found you weeping in your bath, upset that the cloth you used to bathe yourself was too far away (hanging on the other end of the bath) and you now couldn’t reach it. 

“It’s okay, love,” Giyuu cooed gently as he grabbed the cloth for you. But you were in hysterics, muttering about how you knew this was such a foolish thing to be crying over, but you just couldn’t seem to help yourself, swiping the tears from your cheeks. Giyuu didn’t mind, of course. He quickly stripped out of his clothes and climbed into the water with you. You quietly sobbed against him as your husband helped you to wash yourself.

He tucked you into bed after, ordering you to rest while he completed the household chores you were so determined to finish today (he made sure to put everything in its proper place).

Then, there was one other time when you made Giyuu walk you all the way to Kanroji’s home because you had to have pancakes and butter. He’d never tried it before, but had heard from Tanjiro, and you, that they are quite delicious. If it was what you wanted, he was happy to oblige. 

So he made the journey with you without question, watching as Kanroji eagerly wrapped her arms around you the moment she’d opened the door.

There are no longer secrets among the Hashira. They are aware of Giyuu’s status as a married man who is soon to be a father. They’ve all met you, and they all love you. Which is why Kanroji was more than happy to whip up pancakes and butter for you to happily enjoy together with tea. And it’s why she was also happy to prepare extra to send home with you.

“Please let me know when the baby arrives!” Kanroji cheers. “Obanai and I will make the journey to see you all!”

Your smile is wide and so, so happy and Giyuu is surprised to find that he mirrors your expression as you and Kanroji hold hands and become immersed in conversation.

It’s a pleasant journey home, you going on and on about how delicious your sweet treats were. You’re in good spirits! But it doesn’t last long, as the moment you get home, you’re rushing to the bathroom where you get sick. You spend the rest of the day in bed.

Adjusting to being at home with you all the time is easy. Adjusting to this pregnancy, is not.

- - - - - -

Today, you are happy. The smile he missed so much is back, and the color has returned to your face. You don’t look sickly, as you did just a few days prior and your energy has seemed to return as well. Giyuu suggested you go into town to try and find essentials for the baby. You won’t be out long, though. You’re due to give birth any day now, and it’s hard for you to stand for long periods of time due to the weight of the baby.

But you’re humming, eyes scanning the goods at each stand as you gently rub your belly. You speak with the merchants, purchase what you deem is necessary, and you hand it to your husband who follows quietly behind you. He’s essentially the bag man today. He doesn’t mind. Not when your joy is radiating off of you. Not when you’re glowing so beautifully. 

You’re draped in Giyuu’s haori, your favorite article of clothing lately.

“I just love to smell you these days,” you told him when he’d found you wearing it in the garden one morning. “I suppose the baby does, as well.”

These days, he finds you wear his haori more than he does. And it makes Giyuu feel eternally grateful, makes him feel so blessed. Blessed that he survived. Blessed that he was able to get back to you. Blessed that he is present for this journey and all of its ups and downs. Blessed that he is the man lucky enough to love and be loved by you. And soon, blessed to be able to hold the one created by both of your love.

Giyuu watches on, a tiny smile curling at the corners of his lips as he watches you adorably waddle your way to another stand. And he finds that maybe adjusting to your pregnancy is not as hard as he thought.

[perfectsunlight]

[26] FIRST

warnings: none other than i havent proof-read this...

chaewon always felt the urge to protect her members. sure, she and sakura had been in the industry for years, but as the leader of le sserafim, she felt a deeper responsibility—one that went beyond their performances or public appearances. she had to shield them from the harshness of the world, from the scrutiny of the public, and sometimes, even from themselves. 

but when it came to ivory, that protective instinct was on another level. 

the older woman remembered the first day she met her, a quiet and withdrawn girl with sharp eyes that somehow spoke words in languages that didn’t exist. at first glance, ivory appeared to have a tough exterior, a kind of guardedness that most trainees developed after years of relentless pressure. but there was something different about her, something that tugged at chaewon’s heart in a way she hadn’t expected.

it was the day after ivory had officially joined the group. chaewon had walked into the practice room, expecting the usual mix of nervous excitement and eagerness from the other members. but what she saw instead was ivory sitting alone in the corner, her back against the mirror, staring blankly at her phone. her posture was rigid, her shoulders hunched over, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her.

the sight of it had made chaewon’s heart ache.

she didn’t know much about ivory then, only the basics—she was talented, a little quiet, and still learning to adjust to the group's dynamics. but in that moment, seeing her so isolated, chaewon felt an inexplicable pull to reach out. she remembered walking over, sitting down next to her, and asking if she was okay. ivory had looked up, startled, those sharp eyes wide and filled with surprise. 

but the thing that melted chaewon’s heart was what lay underneath that surprise—loneliness. 

she had seen it so clearly, as if ivory had been silently screaming for help, even though no one else seemed to notice. “i’m okay,” ivory had answered softly back then, the words automatic and unconvincing.

but chaewon hadn’t pushed. she had simply nodded, offering a small smile before saying, “you don’t have to be fine all the time, you know. we’re a team. we’ve got each other.”

and that was it. just a simple reassurance. but over time, chaewon noticed how ivory started to linger around her more, how she’d open up in small bursts when she thought no one was looking. she’d catch glimpses of vulnerability when the younger thought no one would notice—the way her hands trembled before big performances, or how she’d always hang back after practice, staying later than the others, lost in her own thoughts.

aside from chaewon, ivory was always around eunchae. the leader eventually learned that the two had been friends for years, which prompted her to ask how long they had known each other. it wasn’t until one late night, during an impromptu practice session, that chaewon had finally asked. ivory had been sitting on the floor, catching her breath after running through their choreography for the hundredth time, and eunchae was laughing beside her, playfully nudging her with her elbow.

chaewon had been supervising them from across the room for a moment before casually walking over, her curiosity getting the better of her. “how long have you two known each other?” she had remarked, wiping sweat from her forehead with a towel. 

the pair exchanged glances before the taller girl grinned, eager to share the story. “we’ve known each other since we were kids,” eunchae said, her tone light and nostalgic. “we went to the same school before all of this. i took janey to her first audition.”

the mentioned girl had remained silent, but chaewon could see the small, fond smile tugging at her lips. there was a history between them, a bond that had clearly helped ivory through the more difficult moments of her life. eunchae’s bubbly personality balanced ivory’s quieter, more reserved nature, and it was easy to see why they had grown so close.

as time went on, chaewon noticed how ivory gravitated toward eunchae in group settings, finding comfort in her familiar presence. it was almost as if eunchae had become ivory’s safe space within the chaos of their schedules, someone who knew her well enough to sense when she needed space but also when she needed to be pulled back into the group dynamic.

however, it wasn’t long before chaewon realized the truth: ivory truly had no one. 

jane had been struggling, not just with the pressures of the industry, but with a deeper, more personal pain. and though she never said it outright, chaewon could feel it in the way the younger girl would sometimes follow her with silent eyes, as if searching for something—someone—to cling to.

chaewon had unconsciously stepped into that role.

she began looking out for the younger girl more than the others, making sure she ate, making sure she wasn’t overworked. she became her unspoken source of comfort, the person who’d quietly listen when no one else could.

and ivory, in her own way, clung to that. she never asked for help directly, but chaewon saw the way the girl would lean into her presence, how she softened just a little when chaewon was near. it wasn’t a mother-daughter relationship, not exactly, but there was a sense of care and protection that went beyond the leader-member dynamic.

chaewon took on that role without a second thought, because someone had to. and if ivory couldn’t lean on anyone else, she would make sure she could lean on her. 

now, as chaewon stood before her, shouting out of frustration and worry, she couldn’t help but feel that same pull to protect. but this time, it wasn’t enough. ivory was in over her head, and chaewon knew that shielding her from this storm wasn’t something she could do anymore. 

the consequences of ivory’s actions—of her public outburst and the revelation about jennie—had spiraled far beyond what chaewon could protect her from.

“what were you thinking?” her voice cut through the silence, her frustration palpable as she ran her hands through her short hair. the tension in the room was thick, and all eyes were on jane. she sat at the edge of the couch, her face pale and her eyes downcast. she could feel the weight of her members’ stares on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at any of them.

somehow, disappointing chaewon felt worse than the public’s scrutiny.

her leader paced in front of the group, stopping abruptly to face her. "is it true?" she asked, her voice sharper now. "is jennie your mom?” it was hard for chaewon to wrap her head around. she couldn’t reconcile the image of jennie kim, one of the most respected idols in the industry, with the idea of her being an absent or negligent parent. 

the question hung in the air, and everyone in the room stiffened. they’d all heard the rumors swirling after the video went viral, but hearing it asked so directly made the situation feel all the more real. ivory froze, her throat tightening. 

she didn’t want to lie, but admitting the truth would only make everything worse.

after swallowing hard, the young girl slowly nodded.  “yes,” she finally muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “jennie is my mom.”

a stunned silence followed, the weight of her admission hitting everyone in the room. sakura and kazuha exchanged glances, while yunjin just let out a slow breath, her arms crossed tightly. eunchae couldn’t even joke right now because she was truly stunned.

chaewon’s eyes narrowed slightly before glancing at eunchae. “did you know?” her tone was low but pointed. eunchae blinked, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out at first. she shifted uncomfortably, glancing at ivory, who was staring at the floor, her face pale.

“no,” eunchae finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t know. i mean, i knew she had stuff going on, but i didn’t know it was this.”

chaewon sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. the tension in the room was thick, and ivory could feel the eyes of every member on her, their disbelief palpable. she hadn’t meant to keep this secret from them forever, but now it felt like she had betrayed their trust.

“jennie never wanted anyone to know.” jane said softly, almost a bit resentfully. her voice wavered, but the bitterness underneath was clear. “it wasn’t exactly my choice to keep it a secret.”

as an idol, chaewon understood why jennie would do such a thing. the idol world was ruthless, with every secret, every vulnerability, weaponized by the public. it all made sense now—why ivory always seemed to carry this invisible weight on her shoulders.

sakura spoke up first, her voice steady but firm. “but now you’re not some secret she can just hide anymore. not after what happened.”

ivory flinched at the words, her heart sinking as the reality of the situation settled in. “i know,” she acknowledged, her fingers gripping the edge of her chair tightly until they were the same shade as her name. “but it’s not that simple. i didn’t want this to happen. i didn’t ask for any of this.”

yunjin shook her head slowly, crossing her arms. “none of us are saying you did. but hiding something this big was never going to end well, ivory.” chaewon’s eyes flicked to her chosen child again, softer now, but no less serious. “sakura’s right. you’re out in the open now. everyone’s talking, and whether you wanted it or not, you have to face it.”

ivory’s chest tightened, her mind swirling with everything—her mother, the media, the crowd at the airport. “i don’t even know how to talk to her. we barely have a relationship anymore.”

“that’s something only you can fix,” chaewon said gently. “but you can’t run from it now. and it’s not just about you anymore; it’s about us. the whole group is going to be affected by this.”

“i’m really sorry,” ivory’s voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath. “i know it means nothing but i’m truly sorry.”

“you don’t need to apologize,” eunchae chimed in softly, finally finding her voice. kazuha nodded in agreement before adding her own thoughts to the conversation.  “we’re just worried about you. and about what happens next.”

"not to mention," chaewon added, "you’re going to have to deal with her companies now, too. oddatelier is probably not going to do anything crazy, but do you think yg’s just going to sit back and let this play out? they’re going to get involved, and you need to be prepared for that. we have to figure this out, and fast."

ivory buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the weight of everything coming at her. the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, and she couldn’t stop them. “i didn’t mean for this to happen. i was just so angry, and i wasn’t thinking.”

the fearless leader sighed, her frustration giving way to a softer tone. she hated seeing the younger girl so upset. “we know you're sorry, but you have to face this head-on. the group’s image is at stake, and so is your career. you’re going to have to figure out how to clean this up, and it starts with getting things right with your mom and her management."

the room fell into an uneasy silence again, the weight of chaewon’s words settling heavily over everyone. ivory sat there, tears streaming down her face, knowing that everything was about to change—for her, for le sserafim, and for her relationship with her mother.

ivory’s chest tightened, her mind swirling with everything—her mother, the chaos, the crowd at the airport. she didn’t even know how to talk to her anymore, especially after she just burned their bridge to ashes.

—

“so,” lisa drew out the word for emphasis,  her eyes fixed intently on jennie. “are you going to tell us or should we ask?” jennie had called the group together for an 'emergency meeting' after they all had arrived.

truth be told, all of them sort of had an idea of what it was about when they saw the news.

the tension in the room thickened as the four members of blackpink leaned in, waiting for jennie to break the silence. she felt the weight of their collective gaze, and the gravity of what she was about to reveal felt almost suffocating.

with a shaky breath, jennie started, “i have something to tell you all, and it’s something i’ve kept secret for years.” the words felt heavy on her tongue, each one a reminder of the burden she had carried alone. “i have a daughter,” jennie confessed, the confession finally spilling out of her quicker than she expected. “and i’ve kept her a secret from everyone, including you.”

a stunned silence enveloped the room as her words sank in. the shock on their faces was unmistakable, and for a brief moment, jennie feared she had broken something irreparably.

“jennie, are you serious?” rosé finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “you have a daughter?”

“yes,” jennie said, her heart pounding. “i had her when i was still a trainee. i thought about giving her up, i really did, but i couldn’t. i just couldn’t. so i thought it was for the best if i just hid her.”

jisoo’s gaze softened, but her expression was still serious. “you know, i realized something that night at the party,” she said quietly. “when you denied knowing ivory, it struck me. i couldn’t really figure it out until afterwards. everyone had seen the two of you on the same flight to paris. but you were so quick to deny knowing her that it was just a habit.”

the rapper mentally groaned at her own slip up, and lisa shot jisoo a look, her eyebrows raised in mild reproach. “wow unnie, you’re so smart.” she teased lightly, but the tension in the room hung thick.

slowly, the gears in rosé’s head started turning. her brows furrowed as she suddenly remembered an event from years ago,

“that wasn’t your cousin was it?” the blonde asked slowly, eyes meeting the older girl’s. “in japan. when you brought that little girl. you said she was your cousin.”

jennie's breath caught in her throat, the memories rushing back as if they had been lying dormant for years. “i didn’t want anyone to know,” she admitted, the weight of her past choices pressing heavily on her chest. “she was so young, and i thought it would be easier to say she was my cousin than to explain the truth.”

the room went quiet as the realization sunk in. lisa’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and understanding reflecting in her gaze. “so all this time, you were hiding her in plain sight?” she couldn’t believe they had all missed something so important, especially when it had been right in front of them.

“yes,” jennie replied, her voice trembling. “there's a lot more to it, but i thought if i kept her close but kept her secret, i could protect her. but i didn’t realize how much i was hurting her in the process.” jisoo shook her head, the corners of her lips turning down in concern. “but she must have sensed something was off. kids are intuitive like that.”

jennie nodded, feeling a pang of guilt surge through her. “she was always so quiet around me, never fully opening up. i thought it was because she was shy, but maybe it was more than that. maybe she felt the distance i was trying to maintain.”

“so what are you going to do now?” the australian asked. “yg isn’t going to stay quiet. hybe isn’t going to either.”

the short woman sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair as she processed the weight of the situation. “yg is going to want a statement and hybe will want more than just ivory’s words against mine. they’ll expect me to play this stupid media game, to handle it like a true idol.”

“but this isn’t just about being an idol anymore,” jisoo reminded her gently. she sat forward a bit more, talking with her hands for emphasis. “this is about your daughter. you can’t let the company dictate how you handle this.”

the raven-haired girl’s heart raced at the thought of their companies feuding and driving more of a wedge between them. “what if they try to use her against me? what if they try to manipulate the story for their own gain? i can’t let them turn her into a headline.” she stressed, pacing once more. 

lisa leaned in, her voice steady. “all you need to do is take control of the narrative. go public on your terms. tell your side of the story before they can twist it into something ugly.”

“do you really think that’ll work?” jennie asked, doubt creeping into her voice. she’d been a mother for 18 years, and yet she still felt like she didn’t know what she was doing. “what if it backfires? what if it just creates more issues? they’re going to rip her apart.”

“don’t let them,” rosé replied, her tone encouraging. “you are jennie kim. you have got to show them that you’re not just a face in the industry—you’re a mother, and that comes first.”

and for the first time in jennie's life, she felt like completely abandoning all logic and reason. her members were right. her daughter was right.

it was time to be a mother, not an idol.

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CLOSED.

[screaminglygay]

third time is a charm, right? (part seven)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff, carol danvers x fem!reader (platonic), past carol danvers x natasha romanoff

summary: being surrounded by beautiful women makes you dizzy and irracional, but that´s just part of the life, hm?

warnings: swearing, ankle injury, messy relationship, that´s all i think:)

word count: 3.3k

an: what can i say? comunication is hard and messy, especially in these situationships

(italica = your thoughts)

The next morning, your ankle is still swollen and painful. Every step you take sends a sharp reminder of the previous night's events. And the headache from drinking is not much of a helper either. As you sit on the couch, contemplating your next move, you remember the business card Carol handed you. Hesitating for a moment, you finally pick up your phone and dial her number.

Fuck it.

After a few rings, Carol answers, her voice warm and slightly curious. "Danvers speaking," her voice is firm.

"Hi, Carol. It’s me, (Y/N)," you say, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I, uh, I’m having trouble with my ankle. And you said to call you if anything… so I´m calling."

Carol's tone immediately shifts to one of concern. "Oh no, okay. Have you seen a doctor?"

You shake your head, even though she can’t see you. "No, I haven’t. I just thought it might get better on it´s own over night, but it hasn’t."

"Okay, don’t worry," Carol says reassuringly. "How about I´ll drive to yours and help you out? Or get you into the hospital?"

It doesn’t take long before you hear a knock on your door. You hobble over and open it to find Carol standing there with a warm smile, holding a small bag.

"Hi," you greet her, feeling a bit shy.

"Hey there," Carol replies, stepping inside. "I brought some supplies for your ankle. Let’s take a look." She is wearing a black lather jacket, it suits her pretty well. You on the other hand just in oversized shirt and some sweatpants... well it´s not an outfit of the century.

She helps you back to the couch and kneels down to examine your ankle, her touch gentle and careful. "This looks pretty bad. We should get some ice on it and keep it elevated. You really should see a doctor."

"I know," you admit. "I just… everything’s been a bit overwhelming and doctor on top of it is just not the cherry on top I´d like."

Carol looks up at you, her expression soft. "I get it. You’ve been through a lot. But it won´t magicaly heal on it´s own."

You nod, appreciating her concern. As she wraps your ankle with an ice pack and props it up on a cushion, you feel a sense of comfort in her presence. She moves around your apartment with ease, making sure you’re comfortable and fetching anything you need.

"So," Carol says, settling down beside you. "How are you feeling after everything that happened with Natasha and Wanda?"

You sigh, leaning back against the cushions. "I’m still processing it all. It’s hard to do it while hangover and minus one leg."

Carol chuckles. "It’s okay to feel hurt and confused. They put you in a tough spot. Literaly."

"Thanks," you say softly. "For being here. I didn’t expect you to help me like this."

Carol smiles. "What are friends for? Besides, I couldn’t leave you struggling on your own. And honestly, I kind of enjoy your company."

You laugh lightly, the first time you’ve felt a bit of joy since the fallout with Natasha and Wanda. "So we´re besties now?"

"You cried on my shoulder while being drunk, isn´t it a typical way of making girl friends?" Carol teases.

"That is a fair point, yeah." You laugh.

Carol chuckles. "How about I cook us some lunch? I make the perfect grilled cheese."

"That sounds great," you say, feeling your spirits lift.

As Carol moves to the kitchen, you watch her with a mix of gratitude and curiosity. There’s something about her that makes you feel safe and valued, a stark contrast to the tumultuous relationship with Natasha and Wanda.

"I uh… noticed you´re also a CEO," you speak up, breaking the comfortable silence.

Carol chuckles, glancing over her shoulder at you. "Yeah. It’s been quite a journey."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "How did you get into it?"

Carol turns back to the stove, flipping the sandwiches with practiced ease. " I started in the Air Force, actually. But after some… complications, I transitioned into the business world."

You nod, impressed. "That’s amazing. I can see why you and Natasha might have some… tension."

Carol laughs, shaking her head. "Yeah, you could say that. Natasha and I have a bit of a rivalry going on. She’s always been competitive, and I guess I pushed her buttons in ways she wasn’t used to."

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Carol plates the grilled cheese sandwiches and brings them over to the table, sitting down across from you. "Natasha is used to being the best at everything she does. When I started making waves with my company, she didn’t take it too well. We’ve had our fair share of professional clashes."

You smile, finding comfort in her honesty. "Has it always been this way?"

"Pretty much. When we were together, the rivalry was more playful. But after we broke up, it became more serious. She’s always been a bit salty about my successes, and I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed getting under her skin a bit." Carol asnwers.

You take a bite of the grilled cheese, savoring the warmth and flavor. "Sounds like it keeps you on your toes."

Carol nods. "It does. But honestly, I think we both thrive on it. It’s like a game we’re both determined to win."

You chew thoughtfully, feeling a bit more connected to Carol through her stories. "It must be exhausting, though. Always competing."

Carol leans back, her expression softening. "It can be. But it’s also what drives me. There’s a lot of professional pride involved. We’re both in industries where being at the top means everything. Natasha doesn’t like losing, and I’m not one to back down."

You smile, appreciating her honesty. "Like I´ve said… exhausting."

"Yeah, you get used to it after some time," Carol admits.

After finishing lunch, Carol insists on taking you to the hospital to get your ankle checked out. Reluctantly, you agree, knowing she’s right. The drive is filled with light conversation, Carol keeping your mind off the pain and the events of the previous night. Once at the hospital, a doctor examines your ankle, taking an X-ray to ensure there are no fractures.

Thankfully, it's not broken or badly sprained. The doctor advises you to rest for at least a week, keeping your ankle elevated and iced to reduce the swelling. As you leave with a wrapped ankle and a prescription for painkillers, you feel a wave of relief knowing it’s not serious. Carol stays by your side the entire time, making sure you’re comfortable and reassuring you that everything will be okay.

As you make your phone call to work, Carol drives back into your place in silence. Your boss is completly okay with you taking a break and she just wishes you to be okay soon. Carol smiles as she glance at you, "all good?"

You nod, "yeah, thanfully all good."

An hour later, you're both lounging on the couch, chatting about everything and nothing, when there's a sudden knock on the door.

You pause, feeling a flicker of anxiety. Carol notices your hesitation and gives you a questioning look. "Expecting anyone?"

You shake your head, pushing yourself up with a wince and hobbling to the door. Peering through the peephole, your heart skips a beat as you recognize the familiar faces of Natasha and Wanda standing on the other side.

"It's them," you whisper, more to yourself than to Carol.

Carol stands up, her expression turning serious. "What do you want to do? Do you want to talk to them?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Part of you wants to hear them out, but another part remembers the hurt and betrayal. Finally, you take a deep breath and decide. "I guess I should see what they want."

With Carol staying in the living room, you open the door slightly, keeping the chain lock in place. "What do you want?" you ask, your voice steady but guarded.

Wanda looks at you with concern. "We just wanted to make sure you're okay," she says softly.

"I'm fine," you reply curtly. "I went to the hospital. They said it’s just a sprain."

Both Natasha and Wanda’s eyes widen in alarm. "You went to the hospital?" Natasha asks, a protective edge in her voice. "Did you drive there?!"

"I hurt my ankle," you respond, not wanting to get into details. "It´s not like I was hit by a car."

Wanda’s brow furrows in worry. "Why didn't you call us? We could have helped. Drive you there or something…"

You sigh, feeling the weight of their concern. "I didn't wanted to bother, given everything."

Natasha looks genuinely hurt. "We care about you. Despite everything, we do care."

You feel a mix of emotions, wanting to believe them but still wary. "I appreciate your concern, but I have someone helping me."

At that moment, Carol, having overheard the conversation, steps into view. "Hey, everything okay here?"

Natasha and Wanda’s eyes widen in surprise at seeing Carol. "Carol?" Natasha asks, a mix of shock and confusion in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Carol crosses her arms, her expression calm but firm. "I'm helping out a friend."

Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, a hint of tension in her voice. "Of course, it’s you, Danvers. Always showing up where you're least expected."

Wanda, sensing the rising tension, gently places a hand on Natasha’s arm to calm her. "Nat, please," she says softly before turning back to you. "We are glad someone is helping you."

You look at Wanda, knowing she meant her words, you give her a small smile.

Natasha looks at you, her eyes softening a bit despite the tension. "We just want to make sure you're okay, (Y/N). That's all."

You nod, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I know. But right now, I need some space. Please understand that."

Wanda bites her lip, looking like she wants to say more but nodding instead. "Okay. We’ll give you space. But if you need anything, we’re here."

Natasha adds, "Take care of yourself." And looks at Carol, "Danvers," she nods.

Carol just nods, she doesn´t say anything else.

You close the door softly, leaning against it as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, "god."

Carol steps closer, giving you a reassuring smile. "You handled that well."

"Thanks," you reply, feeling relieved.

...

As the days pass, your ankle gradually heals, and you find yourself less reliant on Carol's physical help. However, the friendship that blossomed during your recovery continues to thrive. You and Carol text each other regularly, sharing updates about your lives, funny anecdotes, and supportive messages. Despite the pain caused by Natasha and Wanda, Carol’s presence has been a comforting and grounding force.

One evening, as you sit on your couch scrolling through your phone, you feel a wave of nostalgia and longing. Memories of the good times with Natasha and Wanda resurface, the emotions, the feelings, the touches… You hover over their contacts, unsure of what to do. Finally, with a deep breath, you decide to reach out.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, debating between Natasha and Wanda. After a moment of indecision, you choose Wanda, her gentle nature feeling slightly less intimidating.

You: Hi, Wanda. How are you doing?

You hit send before you can overthink it. A few moments later, your phone buzzes with a response.

Wanda: Hey! I’m doing okay. How about you? How’s your ankle?

A smile tugs at your lips. Despite everything, it feels nice to hear from her.

You: It’s much better now, thanks. I’m getting back to normal, slowly but surely.

Wanda: I’m glad to hear that. We’ve been worried about you.

You: Really?

They been thinking about me… that feels nice.

Wanda: Of course. You’re important to us, even if we didn’t show it well.

You pause, feeling a mixture of emotions. It's comforting to know they care, but the hurt is still there, how could you be so stupid to think you can do only sex? You´re the person who can catch feeling even when someone will hold the door for you.

You: I appreciate that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.

Wanda: About us?

You: Yeah. I miss you both, but I’m still hurt. What Natasha said really got to me. I know what we agreed on, but that doesn´t mean it wasn´t painful.

There's a pause, and you can almost feel Wanda's regret through the screen.

Wanda: I understand. Natasha feels terrible about it. She doesn’t always handle her emotions well.

You: I get that. I just… I don’t know where we stand anymore.

Wanda: Can we talk? In person, I mean. It might be easier. All of us.

You hesitate, the fear of getting hurt again battling with the desire to mend things.

You: Can you come to mine tomorrow then?

Wanda: Is 3PM okay for you?

You: It is.

Wanda: Perfect!

You put your phone down, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Before you go to bed, you send a quick text to Carol about your conversation with Wanda, she wishes you a good luck and you have a feeling of hope, feeling that everything will be okay. You will talk like a grownups… that´s great right? Something you were always so perfect about and defiently not going quiet, when there was something you didn´t like.

It´s gonna be just fine.

...

The next day, the clock seems to tick by more slowly than usual. You try to tidy up your apartment, trying to keep busy to calm your nerves. By the time 3PM approaches, you feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You hear a knock at the door and take a deep breath before walking over.

Peeking through the peephole, you see Wanda and Natasha standing there. Wanda in her flower dress looks hopeful, while Natasha appears a bit more stoic, though you can see the concern in her eyes.

You open the door slightly, enough to see them but still feeling cautious. "Hey," you say softly.

"Hey," Wanda responds with a small smile. "Can we come in?"

You hop back, opening the door wider to let them in. As they enter, they both notice the slight limp in your step.

Natasha's eyes narrow with concern. "Is your ankle still hurting?"

"It's better," you say, avoiding their gazes. "I can walk, I just look like an idiot, while doing so." You chuckle, trying to ease the situation.

Natasha's face hardens. "But you´re still in pain?"

"I´m okay, nothing I can´t take." You assure them.

Wanda nods, "can we help you right now in any way?"

You slowly walk to the couch and shake your head. "No, not really. But feel free to take whatever you´d like, coffee, water…"

Natasha nods and makes a coffee for herself, while she takes a juice for you and Wanda.

You sit down, feeling the weight of their presence. "So…?"

Wanda sits across from you, her eyes soft and pleading. "We´re sorry. For everything. Natasha and I… we handled things poorly."

Natasha nods, her expression serious. "We never meant to hurt you. What I said… it was wrong, and I regret it."

You look between them, feeling the sincerity in their words. "You don´t need to apologize milion times, you know."

Wanda shakes her head. "We do. We care about you, deeply. We just didn’t know how to handle our own emotions. And we… well screw it up."

Natasha takes a deep breath. "We want to make things right. If you’re willing to give us another chance."

You sit back, contemplating their words. "Do you think I would let you in here, if I didn´t think about giving you a second chance?"

Both Wanda and Natasha look taken aback, their eyes widening in surprise.

Wanda’s gaze softens, a glimmer of hope appearing. "You’re… you’re willing to give us another chance?"

"I am doing that right now, or… that wasn´t obvious? Gosh we are really shitty at comunicating… all of us." You chuckle, making the two ladies laugh as well.

Wanda smiles, "good to know, okay."

Natasha looks down, her fingers playing with the edge of her sleeve. “We’ve had issues with communication in the past, too. I can see now that it kinda affected us… me.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I also need to admit that I misread the situation. Even after we set terms, I hoped for something more. I thought maybe…”

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand. “We should have been clearer. But you also need to understand that we weren’t completely upfront either.”

Natasha’s expression turns serious. “The truth is, you’re not the first person we’ve been involved with. We’ve had others before you. And, honestly, it hasn’t always been great.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, but also suprised that Natasha is openning up right now.

Natasha hesitates for a moment, then continues. “We’ve had partners who were… different from you. They were often rude, mean, and only interested in our money. They were possessive and only saw us for what we could provide, not who we are.”

Wanda adds, “That’s why we were so cautious with you. We didn’t want to fall into the same patterns, but in doing so, we ended up hurting you instead. Basically did the thing we were so worried about.”

Natasha looks at you, her eyes filled with regret. “I freaked out because I didn’t want you to be like them. I was afraid of repeating the mistakes we made before. And when you showed up in the office, I just… lost it completly.”

You absorb their words, feeling a mix of empathy and frustration. “Alright, I understand, but… we all have our baggage, and it’s up to us to work through it together.”

Wanda’s eyes soften. “You’re right. We need to be more open and honest about our feelings and our pasts. And we need to listen to you, too.”

Natasha nods, her expression is soft, not to firm as it was before.

You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. “I appreciate your honesty. I’m willing to work on this with you."

Wanda smiles gently. “Thank you for being willing to try. We’ll do our best to show you that we can be different.”

Natasha adds, “We’ll start by being more transparent and communicating better. That’s a promise. How about we start again?" She exhales.

"You saw me naked, I don´t think we can start again." You chuckle, while your cheeks heat up.

Wanda giggles, "then how about we go on a date, proper one? Tomorrow?"

A proper date? Hold on… so it´s not a just sex anymore. I´m confused.

Both women can notice your puzzled face and Wanda takes your hand in hers, "proper date as… we would like to try this," her hand squeezes yours, "to be more than just a sex."

Oh shit. Nice. Cool. Okay. Calm down. It´s fine. All good.

"If you don´t have plans with Davnvers, of course." Natasha speaks up, you can hear the slight jealousy in her voice. Which makes the younger woman roll her eyes at her girlfriend.

"I don´t no," you shake your head. “Tomorrow works perfectly fine for me.” You agree enthusiastically, feeling a surge of happiness at the thought of a proper date.

Nat smirks, "perfect."

"So we will pick you up at… 7PM?" Wanda smiles.

You nod, trying to ease the exitement.

With a final exchange of smiles and assurances, Wanda and Natasha prepare to leave. They give you a warm hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. As you close the door behind them you let out a squek of happiness and some kind of celebration dance? But your ankle reminds you, that dancing is not a good idea yet.

Maybe third time is really a charm!

Thank you so much for reading!!

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