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[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[alsofoundinpeas]

In the Blink of a Lens

Summary: When Spencer Reid finally succumbs to technology and gets a smartphone, he takes a tentative step into the digital world by sending his best friend (and colleague) Y/N a picture. What starts as an innocent attempt to embrace modern tech leaves Y/N flustered as the seemingly innocent gesture forces her to confront feelings she’s been ignoring for years. Neither of them is prepared for the powerful impact of a single, innocent photo as the lines between friendship and something more start to blur.

(AKA Spencer sends the above selfie and reader gets horny because his hand is quite literally swallowing the phone HAHAHA)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Hand kink/fixation. Overstimulation. Oral (both m and f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected sex/P in V sex (do as I say not as I do and STAY PROTECTED IRL!!). Dirty talk/praise kink. Softdom!Spencer and bratty!sub!reader. Some religious phrasing (because who are fanfic writers really without it?) Pull-out method used (again, do as I say not as I do!!) Very brief mention of a sex toy (doesn't get used). Fluffy smut. Two idiots in love/best friends to lovers trope. <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader

A/N: This is my humble contribution to the Spencer Reid hand kink supremacy (no but seriously how are his hands THAT attractive??). This is kinda sorta an AU I guess because I wrote this with season four Reid in mind but I'm not sure (and Google will not give me a clear answer) if that type of iPhone was around then so let's just pretend it was for the sake of the fic pls. :') Also the "Sincerely, Spencer Reid" was a direct nod to B99's very own Raymond Holt because I could definitely see him and Spence handling tech the same way LMAO. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

Am I doing this selfie thing right? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

The screen felt almost blinding in the dim lighting of Y/N's bedroom as she stared slack-jawed at the image open on her phone.

Spencer finally upgraded to a smartphone a week ago after an unfortunate crash to the ground (stupid raised sidewalk) shattered the old flip phone that had long ago earned him the nickname "Grandpa" from his pain-in-the-ass-loving best friend. Y/N had never seen a man so devastated over losing what was essentially a brick that made calls, so to cheer him up, she helped him pick out a new phone and set it up.

She was beginning to regret that decision as she gawked at the selfie Spencer had sent.

It was sweet—an innocent photo of him sitting in his car, just after finishing the paperwork he’d insisted on handling alone, despite her offers to help. He'd banished her to her apartment, as stubborn as ever. The shot was taken in his rearview mirror, a faint grin tugging at his lips, his maple-toned eyes obscured by the phone. There was nothing about the image that should have made her pulse quicken. But when the realization hit her, a rush of warmth flooded her face.

It was his hand.

His hand seemed almost too big for the phone, dwarfing it as he snapped the picture. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed how large his hands were—everyone did—but she’d never given it much thought. Until now. Watching the way his fingers effortlessly swallowed the device, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. There was something about the sheer size of his hand, the way it seemed to overpower the phone, that made her suddenly hyper-aware of every detail.

His fingers were long, elegant, and well-cared-for; fingers that seemed capable of touching parts of her she'd never been able to reach on her own—

No. No, no, no. There was absolutely no way she was having these thoughts about Spencer Reid. Spencer, her endearingly awkward best friend of four years. Her rock. Her partner in the field. The man she’d always thought of as just that—nothing more. Well...

Y/N did have a crush on him once, in the earliest stages of their friendship. But it was just a small, silly, unreciprocated crush that she locked away in the deepest parts of her subconscious so that she could at least still be his friend. She accepted that it would never happen and moved on. Or she thought she had...

A muffled curse leaves Y/N's lips as she realizes she never responded, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she struggles to think of a response. Since when has she ever struggled to talk to Spencer? Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with her tonight? Was she ovulating?

Y/N: Next time, show off those pretty brown eyes of yours and you've got it down pat :)

Okay... That sounded way flirtier than she intended... But that's how they usually joked with each other, right? She was just overthinking everything because she was exhausted from their most recent case. That's it.

Y/N: Also... why have you not put your phone case on yet?? You're practically begging for another sidewalk incident to happen, Grandpa.

That's better. That feels normal.

She sets her phone down on her nightstand, picking up her abandoned book to continue reading. Y/N's heart rate is almost back to normal when her phone's ringtone blaring startles her, the book falling to her lap with a muted thud. An annoyed groan rumbles in her throat as she reaches over to grab the device, internally praying it wasn't Hotch calling with another case. They had JUST gotten back from Ohio not even six hours ago and she just wanted to rest—

To her surprise, it was Spencer calling.

"It's awfully late for you to be calling, Grandpa," Y/N drawled as she answered the call, her lips curling up into a grin as she heard Spencer scoff on the other line. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"I am in bed," Spencer grumbled in response, and she could hear some shuffling as he got comfortable. "And I put the case on right after I sent the selfie, thank you very much. Speaking of, did you know that the origin of selfies was actually believed to be..."

Spencer launched into a thorough explanation of not only the origins of selfies but also a detailed account of why self-portraits came about. Y/N hung onto every word, just as she always did when he spoke. Most people found his rambling to be annoying, but not her. She thought it was fascinating how much information he kept tucked away in that brain of his and was more than willing to listen and ask questions about anything he blurted out.

The conversation stretches on for another hour, neither of them wanting to be the one to end it. It’s not until the fifth yawn escapes Spencer that Y/N finally chuckles into the phone before reluctantly saying goodnight. Spencer’s voice is warm as he wishes her sweet dreams, and the call ends with the soft beep of disconnecting. And, for the first time in a long while, sweet dreams she did have…

"Does that feel good? Hm, pretty girl?" Spencer murmured into her ear as she writhed between his spread legs, her bare back pressed flush to his clothed chest.

The night had started with celebratory drinks after finally closing one of their more grueling cases, the team getting some much-needed relaxation and bonding in. Spencer was Y/N's designated driver as per usual since he didn't drink, instead choosing to nurse a soda as he eyed Y/N down from across the booth.

He was directly across from her, snugly between Derek and Hotch. But he wasn't paying attention to them. His eyes had been fixated on her from the moment she'd come back from the bar with Emily and Penelope, tracing the contours of her flushed face as she tipped her head back and took another shot.

Y/N had no intentions of getting completely drunk, instead choosing to remain just tipsy enough to enjoy the warmth that flowed through her body from the alcohol and maintain a steady buzz. That way she could be aware of her surroundings while also enjoying herself and the company of her team.

The bar was dim, the pounding of her heartbeat matching the beat of the music bumping overhead as her gaze fell on Spencer. Her brows furrowed at the unabashedly hungry look in his eyes, her tongue poking out to wet her lips subconsciously. She had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he'd be looking at her like that... right?

But he had been. And that same look is exactly what led them to where they were now, with Spencer propped up against her headboard holding her at his mercy while his fingers pumped tirelessly into her drenched pussy. She was sure the sight of them was downright filthy, an erotic contrast of her completely bare body pressed against his fully clothed one.

Y/N was in shambles, her legs trembling as her nails dug uselessly into his thighs while soft whimpers and moans flowed freely from her kiss-swollen lips. Her mind was reeling, a dizzying mixture of the remaining alcohol in her system, the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach, and the knowledge that it was Spencer causing said pleasure.

She was so, so close... just a few more strokes of his fingers and...

A sharp gasp sounded through the bedroom as Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as she shakily sat up to turn off her alarm. She blinked hard, attempting to clear the fog from her vision as she fell back into her pillows. The dull aching between her thighs served as a sore reminder of what she was so close to achieving in her dream...

Her eyes snapped open as the memory of the dream hit her like a tidal wave. Guilt, confusion, and sheer horror crashed over her, and she groaned, her hands dragging down her face in frustrated disbelief. She’d just had a dream—a wet dream—about Spencer Fucking Reid.

What had gotten into her?

Before she could dive too deep into why her crush on Spencer had apparently resurfaced with a vengeance after being dormant for so long, her phone dinged with a message from the genius himself. It felt like the universe was rubbing salt in the wound, taunting her for the forbidden thoughts she couldn’t seem to shake about her best friend.

Spence <3: Are you going to get coffee? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

Y/N snorted out a laugh at how he signed his text, shaking her head as she responded.

Y/N: ... Spence, you don't have to sign your name on each text. I have your number saved. And yes, I am :)

A minute passes before his response comes through.

Spence <3: Oh. Well then, can you also bring me coffee please?

Y/N: Of course I can <3

Her earlier guilt lingers in the pit of her stomach as she sets the phone down, rolling out of bed with a sigh to begin getting ready for work. How was she going to face him after having a dream like that? Maybe it was a fluke; a one-off occurrence manifested from her lack of sexual endeavors so her brain had no choice but to use Spencer as a fill-in for her fantasies.

Opting to pretend it never happened so she could face her best friend later, Y/N finished getting ready and left for the café, determined to get there on time for work.

The elevator dinged as Y/N strolled into the bullpen, her and Spencer's usual orders in hand and a soft smile on her face. Thankfully, today was a paperwork day—a task most of the team dreaded, but one Y/N welcomed. It gave her a chance to recover from the constant motion sickness from the jet and the relentless flirtations of the officers when they worked cases out of state.

"Mm, my very own coffee fairy!" Spencer grinned, setting down the stack of papers he’d been poring over. His eyes sparkled as she made her way across the room, finally meeting his gaze from across the desk as she stopped in front of him. "Have I ever told you you're the best?"

"Yes, you have," Y/N teased with a playful grin, holding out his coffee. "But I don’t mind hearing it more often."

Her dream, it seemed, hadn’t been a fluke, a realization that hits her as Spencer grabs his coffee. Her eyes involuntarily track the way his fingers curl around the Styrofoam cup, and a shiver runs up her spine when they inadvertently brush against hers. Her cheeks flush as she quickly pulls her gaze away, meeting his curious eyes instead.

"You feeling okay, Y/N? You look a little flushed," Spencer murmured, his brow furrowed in concern as he eyed her over the rim of his cup.

Y/N blinked, her heart pounding in her throat as she swallowed and nodded. The sight had sent her mind reeling, the memory of those same fingers buried deep inside of her in her dream the night before surfacing against her will.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine I just-"

Before Y/N could finish stammering out her lame excuse, Morgan sauntered into the bullpen with Garcia, the pair immediately honing in on her and Spencer as they made their way over.

"Oh, c'mon Y/N! Seriously? Pretty boy here gets a coffee but the rest of us don't?" Morgan taunted, chuckling as Y/N reached out to playfully swat at his arm with an eye roll.

"Well obviously! He's her work husband," Penelope chimed in matter-of-factly, giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows. "It would mean a divorce was brewing if she didn't."

The team had started the joke years ago, teasing her and Spencer for being the youngest members and for how quickly they’d clicked. To everyone else, it was obvious their friendship ran deeper than either of the two realized. The problem was that neither one of them could see it. Some profilers they were.

No matter how many times the joke was made, Spencer’s face still turned bright red every single time.

"Har dee har har," Spencer scoffed, his eyes shifting to the cup still gripped in his hand.

The banter was cut short as Hotch stepped out of his office, everyone mumbling their goodbyes and scurrying back to their desks to get their work done. Y/N welcomed the distraction with open arms, diving into her work to try to get her mind off of her conflicted feelings towards her best friend.

All day long, Y/N fought the growing urge to watch Spencer’s hands, but it was impossible to ignore. Her eyes were drawn to the way his fingers traced the edge of a case file as he analyzed it, or how they drummed a steady rhythm on his desk, each tap somehow amplifying the tension she was trying to suppress.

Her breaking point came when the team was wrapping up for the day. Spencer, eager to show off, insisted on demonstrating a new cardistry trick he’d learned. The rest of the team gathered around, and Y/N felt herself drawn in, unable to look away. Her eyes locked on his fingers as he deftly manipulated the cards, the muscles in his hands flexing with each smooth, controlled movement. She barely registered her open mouth or the way her pulse quickened—every part of her attention was on him.

Y/N was jolted back to reality when Emily nudged her, a raised eyebrow full of amusement as the rest of the team cheered and complimented Spencer on his newly acquired skill. Rather than meet Emily’s knowing look, Y/N quickly murmured her praise for Spencer, then hastily made her exit, claiming she needed to hit a store before it closed.

If she thought that day was bad, the next few weeks were hell.

The BAU had two back-to-back cases, leaving them no time to rest as they flew straight from Tennessee to Arizona. The dry heat seemed to make Spencer restless—constantly running his fingers through his hair, fidgeting with his watch, or rolling up his sleeves. Meanwhile, Y/N felt her sanity slipping away, her thoughts unraveling as she stumbled over her words or completely lost track of what she was saying—because she couldn’t stop staring at those goddamned hands.

Spencer wasn’t blind to the shift in her behavior. He’d noticed how she started to occupy herself with something whenever he entered the room, or how she became increasingly uneasy around him—spinning the rings on her fingers, tugging at the necklace he'd given her for her last birthday, or even finding reasons to leave the room entirely the moment he stepped in.

Y/N's usual teasing had begun to feel hollow, and the familiar touches she used to give him—guiding him gently by the hand, rubbing his shoulder when frustration set in, or planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek before leaving—had completely disappeared.

He felt gutted, unable to think of a single reason for Y/N's sudden distance. The uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his stomach with worry. What if she was tired of him? Or worse… what if she had finally seen through his feelings for her and was repulsed by them?

When the team wrapped up in Arizona and boarded the jet home, Spencer made up his mind.

After Y/N chose to sit next to Emily instead of her usual spot beside him, he couldn’t take it anymore. The not knowing was eating at him, and more than anything… he missed her. She was the one person who saw him for who he truly was, the one who understood him better than he understood himself. The one who brought him solace during the toughest cases and reminded him why he kept going. The thought of losing her was unbearable, and he promised himself he’d do whatever it took to fix whatever had gone wrong.

As soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, Y/N quickly muttered her goodbyes and made a beeline for the parking garage. Finally, she was free. Free to go home, shut herself off, and stop behaving like a complete mess around Spencer. She hated how distant she’d been, but she couldn’t help it. The weight of her obsessive thoughts about him and the feelings she’d tried to bury for so long had completely overridden her rational thoughts, leaving her acting out of control.

Fingers closed around her upper arm just inches from her car, and a sharp yelp escaped her lips. She spun around, startled, to find an equally surprised Spencer standing there. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him following her.

"Jesus, Grandpa! Make an announcement before you sneak up on people!" Y/N complained loudly, turning away from him to unlock her car and toss her go bag into the backseat.

Spencer couldn't help but feel some relief at the nickname, a surge of hope coursing through him. Grandpa. She hadn't called him that in almost two weeks. He cleared his throat, holding onto his courage as he finally addressed her recent behavior.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure we were okay? I’ve noticed you’ve been acting… not like yourself lately. Not that I’m calling you weird or anything—"

Y/N's heart broke at the nervous rambling spewing from his lips as he stood before her, tucked into himself and fidgeting with his hands as he tried to speak. God, she was such an asshole.

"Spence," Y/N murmured, gently interrupting him before letting out a soft sigh. "I promise, we're fine. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant. It’s just… I’ve been so stressed with the cases, and compartmentalizing has been harder than usual. I guess I didn’t want to drag you into it. I’m really sorry."

It wasn't necessarily a lie. She really had been stressed and struggling with compartmentalizing... just not because of their job.

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed, his tense expression softening into one of understanding. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You don’t have to carry that burden alone. I’d much rather you let me in than struggle with it on your own."

Scratch that. She wasn't just an asshole. She was the biggest asshole in the world for making him feel the way he had.

"I know that. I really do," Y/N murmured, her fingers nervously playing with her lip. "It's just… I get way too independent sometimes." She sighed, then brightened. "How about this? Tomorrow’s our first Saturday off in over a month… Why don’t you come over and we can do a movie marathon? We could use some good 'work spouse' bonding, don’t you think?"

Spencer’s smile stretched across his face, his voice a little more eager than usual and his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I'd, uh... I'd love that. Let's do it."

Y/N returned his grin, her heart fluttering from how excited he looked. Relief flooded through her veins as he agreed to her plans, not realizing how much she had truly missed him the past few weeks since she'd been so focused on trying not to gawk at him every five minutes.

"Perfect. It’s a date,” Y/N teased, her smile widening. “Now, get in. I’m not letting you take the train back this late."

"What? Isn't this what you wanted, sweetheart?" Spencer crooned into her ear, tightening his hold around her wrists as he kept them pinned above her head.

Another frustrated whine left her lips as she tugged uselessly against his hold, but they both knew she didn't actually want to slip free. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around both of her wrists, his other tracing maddeningly up and down her side.

"Or did you want Officer Davidson's hands on you instead?" His tone was taunting, a hint of jealousy tainting his words as he tightened his grip.

The moment they stepped into their shared hotel room after leaving the precinct, Spencer was all over her. She’d noticed the heated glares he shot her way while she stood across the room, wearing a bored expression as Officer Davidson repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) tried to flirt with her.

They hadn't announced their new relationship status to the team yet per Spencer's insistence, but it was obvious from the intensity in Spencer’s eyes that he wanted to shout it to the world now. The way he glared at Davidson made it clear he was ready to stake his claim, watching the officer eye her like prey.

Now they were here, with Spencer hellbent on making sure she understood that she was his.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at Spencer pleadingly as she tilted her hips up in search of his. "No, never. Only want you, Spence."

A dark chuckle escaped him as he smirked down at her, his hand, which had been trailing along her side, now cupping her chin. His fingers gently squeezed her cheeks, coaxing her lips into a pout.

"Only me? Is that right, sweet girl?" Spencer cooed, loosening his grip to press on her bottom lip with his thumb before sliding the digit into her mouth. "Because it sure looked like you were enjoying his attention."

The flushed head of his cock teased her entrance, pressing between her folds as his hips slowly rocked back and forth, prolonging her teasing instead of giving her what she wanted. She groaned around his thumb, sucking the digit further into her mouth and holding his gaze in an effort to tempt him into finally fucking her instead of just grinding against her.

A soft hiss fell from his lips as his gaze darkened. He shifted his weight above her, keeping her wrists clasped in his hand and shoving them into the mattress as he began to rut against her harder. Her sharp gasp sounded through the air as he angled his hips up, the tip of his cock dipping into her deliciously before he halted his movements, keeping only a few inches inside of her.

Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering her protests around his thumb as her jaw slackened, muffled pleas spilling from her lips as she began to beg uselessly for him to just fuck her already.

Spencer pressed down on her tongue with his thumb, a grunt escaping him before he yanked his thumb out of her mouth, using the hand to pin her down instead.

"Be still—"

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh light of morning pouring through her curtains, and she let out a disgruntled groan as she blindly searched for her phone on the nightstand. After weeks of peaceful, dreamless sleep, of course she would dream about Spencer the night before their hangout. Wait—

Y/N sat up abruptly, unlocking her phone to check the time, only to notice a message waiting for her on the lock screen.

Spence <3: I’ll be there in an hour with a surprise.

Sent twenty-three minutes ago.

Fuck. She'd completely forgotten to set an alarm to get ready for their movie marathon, despite being the one who had suggested it in the first place. Whatever brain cells that photo had scrambled in her brain needed to get a grip so she could function on a level above Neanderthal.

Y/N: Surprise? You spoil me, old man. I'll see you then :)

Y/N exhaled wearily, rolling out of bed and dragging her feet across the plush carpet. She shuffled over to her dresser, picking out an outfit consisting of black yoga pants and an old band tee before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower. Maybe it would clear her head—or at least get rid of the incessant aching between her thighs. It worked on men, right?

One miserable shower and a change of clothes later, Y/N finally managed to clear some of the fog clouding her mind. She darted around her apartment, tidying up in a flurry before Spencer arrived. Moving between the kitchen and the living room, she gathered everything for their movie marathon: a pile of 90's slasher films spread out on the coffee table, her biggest throw blanket draped across the sectional, and a bag of popcorn popping away in the microwave.

Spencer's signature knock rang through the apartment at the same time the microwave started beeping, signaling that the popcorn was done.

"Coming!" Y/N shouted from the kitchen, opening the microwave door so it wouldn't repeat the shrill noise before making her way to the front door.

She swings it open with an excited grin, her gaze immediately dropping to the bag in Spencer's hand. She beckons for Spencer to come in, trying to sneak a peek at what was in the slightly crinkled paper bag.

"Geez, don't look too excited to see me," Spencer chuckled, following Y/N into her kitchen.

She waved dismissively, laughing softly as she grabbed the bag of popcorn and a bowl to pour it into. Spencer sat the bag on the counter, finally revealing its contents as he pulled out a tub of ice cream and some sour gummy worms.

"A man after my own heart!" Y/N gasped with an exaggerated swoon, cackling as Spencer swatted at her playfully.

"You said you were stressed, and I know you’ve got a sweet tooth just like me, so I figured it’d be perfect for our movie marathon," Spencer said with a shrug, the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

That kind of thoughtful behavior was just another reason her emotions had been in turmoil for the past few weeks. The selfie had opened a door to a spiral of introspection, one that made her revisit every moment they’d shared. She had always known their friendship straddled the line between platonic and something more, but she’d convinced herself it was simply because they were so comfortable with one another. It wasn’t until now that she began to wonder if those boundaries had been blurred intentionally — if, deep down, they both had wanted more all along.

The movie marathon kicked off after a bit of grumbling from Spencer, who finally gave in to watching the cheesy slasher films he’d insisted were beneath him. A few awkward moments of shifting on the couch later, they settled into a comfortable spot—Y/N tucked into his side, both of them with snacks in their laps and the throw blanket wrapped around them, ready to dive into the horror-filled lineup.

As they settled into the movie, Spencer’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment too long. He noticed the drip of vanilla ice cream at the corner of her mouth, the sight causing an unwelcome tightness in his pants. Before he could stop himself, he reached over. His thumb gently swiped the sugary trail now pooling along her lower lip, a soft swipe that left his hand lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"Here, you've got a little..."

The words died in his throat as her lips wrapped around his thumb, both of their eyes widening as their gaze met.

In that moment, everything fell into place for Spencer. It wasn’t stress that had been driving her distant behavior—he realized with a sudden jolt—it was something else entirely. The way she'd been pulling away, the tension between them… it wasn’t just exhaustion or anxiety. No, it was something far more complicated. It was desire.

Y/N jerked backward, nearly sending all of their precariously placed snacks to the floor as her face burned with embarrassment. "Oh, my God I- I'm so sorry Spence," she stammered, her words tripping over each other. "I have no idea why I did that-"

"Y/N."

Spencer cut her off with a hushed murmur of her name, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stopped her nervous rambling.

"It's okay. I-I liked it," Spencer reassured her softly.

Y/N stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"I liked it."

Spencer repeated himself surely, but the tremble in his voice gave away the fact that his brave front was exactly that: a front.

"I—" He hesitated, a heavy sigh escaping him. His hands fumbled with the snacks for a moment, setting them carefully on the coffee table as if buying time. He finally turned to face her fully, the weight of his words settling in. "Y/N… I've been in love with you since the moment I met you. I never said anything because I was scared… scared you wouldn’t feel the same. And after everything these past few weeks, with you pulling away, I thought maybe you’d figured it out and hated me for it. But… maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually feel the same way I do..."

Y/N’s mouth parted in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. Spencer loved her. He always had. And she had spent all this time convincing herself her feelings were one-sided, certain he couldn’t possibly feel the same way.

Spencer's voice wavered as he spoke, his eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. "Please, tell me I was wrong. Tell me you feel the same." His words hung in the air, and he held his breath, waiting, afraid that his confession might have been the thing to push her away for good.

The raw vulnerability in his voice broke through the fog in her mind, and without thinking, she nodded quickly, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

"Yes! Yes, Spence, I feel the same way," she breathed, her voice shaky as she looked up at him, eyes wide with a mix of relief and disbelief. "I always have… I just… I convinced myself it was impossible. I never thought you could feel the same."

A soft laugh escaped him, his grin widening as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "How could I not, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "You’re everything to me. You’re the reason I started believing in soulmates… because I know I’ll never find anyone more perfectly made for me than you. You’re it. Always have been."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her eyes welling up involuntarily. No one had ever spoken to her with such reverence, and in that moment, she realized she held him in the same regard. But where Spencer's words were so effortlessly beautiful, hers often fell short. So, instead of trying to find the right ones, she chose to show him just how deeply he mattered to her.

Within seconds, her lips were on his, her hands gently cradling his face as she pulled him closer. Spencer surrendered to the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, mirroring her movements and pulling her in.

It started as a slow, hesitant kiss that rapidly devolved into something more desperate as the weight of years of silent longing melted away between them. What Y/N couldn't articulate into words she poured into touch, threading her trembling fingers into his soft hair and tugging, urging him to hover over her as she laid back against the couch. Her lips moved against his fiercely, trying to convey the silent message that she was just as in love with him as he was with her.

The movie had long since faded into the background, its faint dialogue and sporadic screams now an odd soundtrack blending with the muffled whimpers and soft pants that filled the space between them as their hands began to roam. Spencer's hips were nestled between hers, unmoving and stiff as he tried not to mindlessly hump against her like an animal in heat.

Y/N noticed Spencer's rigidness, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a furrowed brow. "What's wrong?" She breathed out, propping up on her elbows and brushing their noses together. "Are we moving too fast? We can stop if you want, I-I'm sorry—"

"No!" Spencer borderline shouted in his haste to ease the insecurity he saw creeping into her eyes, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. "No, no that's not it at all. I just, um... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't sure how far you wanted this to go."

Y/N’s shoulders relaxed, a small frown giving way to a playful smirk. She idly twisted the loose curls at the nape of his neck between her fingers, her gaze locking with his.

"I want you, Spence. All of you. If that's what you want, too."

Spencer's nod was immediate, his forehead almost knocking into hers, causing her to laugh at his eagerness. "God, yes. I want that, so much. I want you so much."

Y/N grinned as she tilted her head to brush their lips together, landing a chaste kiss on his mouth before she tugged him down, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. "Yeah? You wanna fuck me, Spence?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as his head fell into the crook of her neck. If he were younger, he probably would have just cum in his pants from her words alone. But he was a man now. A barely composed man who was dizzy from the intoxicating scent of her perfume crowding his nose and the most painful erection he's had since puberty straining against his slacks.

"Such a crude mouth you have," Spencer murmured in feigned disappointment, shaking his head before pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the skin of her neck. "Maybe I should fill it up until you learn some manners, hm?"

He traced the fingers of his right hand up her side as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his left hand pressed into the cushions to keep him from laying all his body weight onto her. He'd caught her lingering glances at his hands throughout the last few weeks. He just hadn't been sure why she'd been staring at them so hard... but now? Now, he knew exactly why she'd been so fixated on them, and he planned to use that to his advantage.

The whimper that slipped from Y/N's lips as Spencer slid two fingers into her gaping mouth confirmed his suspicions, the shit-eating grin on his face growing wide as he pressed the digits down against her tongue. She began to suck at his fingers eagerly, the feeling of her tongue laving over them making his body tremble in anticipation.

His hips began to rock against hers, slowly grinding against her aching core as he pressed kisses up and down the side of her neck. Once he was satisfied with his teasing, he pulled his fingers from her mouth with a slick 'pop', replacing them with his tongue as he kissed her deeply.

Y/N’s mind whirled, both surprised and intrigued by the sudden shift in his demeanor, captivated by how effortlessly he stepped into control. It wasn’t what she’d anticipated at all. She’d seen glimpses of this side of him—brief moments in the field or during interrogations—but never like this. The man before her was assured and confident, a stark contrast to his usual, endearing awkwardness.

Their kiss grew hungry as Spencer continued where they had left off before, his hands sliding under the hem of her shirt and bunching the fabric as they trailed up. He broke the kiss long enough to help her out of the shirt, tossing it somewhere in the direction of the TV before capturing her lips once more. He was a man ravenous, consumed by the sweetness of her lips, and even the seconds it took to remove her t-shirt felt like an unbearable eternity without them.

Her hands were just as busy as his, dragging down his clothed chest before finding the button of his slacks in the cramped space between them. Her fingers fumbled with the button blindly, and her movements faltered when his teeth gently tugged at her lower lip.

"Off," Y/N whined indignantly against his mouth, tugging frustratedly at the button. "Take them off."

Spencer obliged, helpless to her commands as he sat back on his heels, easily undoing the pesky button that was keeping her from what she wanted. She went to sit up to help with his zipper, but in her rush to get his pants off, she didn't realize just how close his knee was to the edge of the cushion.

The motion knocked his knee outwards, a surprised yelp leaving his lips as he instinctively reached out for her to steady himself, but it was too late.

A startled squeal slipped from Y/N as they both tumbled to the floor, landing with a muted thud on the plush carpet. Spencer’s hands shot to her waist, his eyes wide as he glanced up at her, now sprawled on top of him, her laughter filling the air at their unexpected fall. He joined her, chuckling loudly.

They were a perfect chaos—rumpled clothes, kiss-swollen lips, tangled hair, and eyes full of love. But neither of them minded, because they finally had what they’d both been yearning for all this time: each other.

The fall did little to curb their desire for each other. Y/N ducked her head, pressing her lips to Spencer's with renewed vigor as her hands slipped underneath his sweater. She giggled as he squirmed underneath her touch.

"You're such a wiggle worm!" Y/N huffed, pulling back just enough to let the words slip free into the air between them as she lifted the sweater up and over his head.

Spencer scoffed, his own hands slipping beneath the waistband of her yoga pants and shoving them down her legs. "I can't help that your hands feel like ice!"

A quiet hiss left her lips at the feeling of his equally cold hands brushing against the skin of her thighs. She wriggled on top of him, kicking off the remaining fabric that had wrapped around her feet.

"So do yours, but you don't see me acting like a baby about it!"

"Oh, I'll show you a baby—"

Y/N cackled as Spencer rolled them over, hovering above her once more with a cheeky grin and soft chuckles. He bombarded her with kisses all over her face and collarbones, ignoring her hands swatting at him playfully as he continued his attack. Soon his pants joined the growing pile of clothes near the entertainment center, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room as the final scenes of the forgotten movie played out. His hands made swift work of removing her bra, leaving her lying underneath him in only her lacy underwear.

Their laughter died out as they stared into each other's eyes, the weight of what was about to change—what had already changed—settling over them. But fear didn’t touch them. There was no reason for it. This was always meant to be; written in the stars, woven into their destiny long before they existed.

Spencer closed the gap between them, kissing Y/N tenderly as he lowered himself just enough for their bare chests to press together and their hips to align perfectly. A sigh escaped her at the feeling of his hardened cock grinding against her, the thin fabric of his boxers and her soaked panties doing little to conceal what lay beneath.

Neither of them had ever pictured their first time unfolding on the living room floor, but in a way, it made the moment even more unforgettable. It was a testament to how desperately they wanted each other—so much that they’d choose the roughness of the carpet and rug burns over the luxury of her bed to avoid the few minutes apart it would take to get to her room.

"You're sure you want this?"

Spencer broke the kiss, his eyes tracing hers for any trace of hesitation or doubt. Y/N's lips curved into a faint smile as she reached up to caress his face. Her thumb stroked the skin of his cheekbone as she nodded.

"More than anything."

The look in her eyes told him that she was being completely honest. That was all the confirmation he needed. His shaky hands found the edges of the lace adorning her hips, inching his body down as he tugged the soaked-through fabric down her legs.

Y/N's face scrunched in confusion as Spencer moved lower, her brows furrowing as he pressed a kiss to her knee. "What are you-"

Her words cut off with a sharp moan as Spencer latched his mouth to her clit, her head tipping back against the floor as her hands buried themselves into his disheveled strands. Her back arched as her legs spread instinctively, making room for him as he began to devour her. He shifted, grabbing ahold of her thighs and placing them over his shoulders as his tongue alternated between teasing kitten licks and long, drawn-out laps up and down her pussy.

Y/N struggled to open her eyes, peering down at him as pleasure began to flood her veins. The sight of his hands—those beautiful goddamned hands that had inadvertently caused this to happen— gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises had her mouth hanging open, small whimpers and moans flowing freely into the open space.

"You taste exquisite, sweetheart. So, so good," Spencer mumbled against her slick skin before sucking her clit into his mouth gently.

Y/N cried out, writhing underneath him as the pleasure in her lower stomach began to build rapidly. A loud groan wrenched itself from her throat as Spencer grabbed her hips, pinning them to the ground as he continued to ravage her in a way that rendered her useless.

"You can take it, pretty girl," Spencer cooed, placing a kiss on her clit before one of his hands left her hip to trace her folds. "Cum for me so I can fuck you so good you'll never want anyone else again."

Who the fuck taught him how to talk like that?

Y/N couldn’t speak to tell him that she’d never want anyone else anyways; that he was etched into her very soul, and every part of her would forever long for his touch and his touch alone. She cried out as his middle finger prodded at her entrance before slipping inside, her orgasm so close she could almost taste it.

Spencer moaned against her from how little resistance her walls had against the intrusion, immediately adding his ring finger to the mix. He thrusted them into her hard, curling the lithe digits in search of that rough patch of skin that would give him what he wanted. It took all of three strokes before he found it, his mouth forming a smirk as she gripped his hair and yanked, grinding her hips up into his mouth as she thrashed beneath him.

"Spence! Fuck, I-I'm cumming—"

Y/N barely uttered the words before her climax seized her, her toes curling as her vision whitened and the world shattered around her. She could vaguely register Spencer's sweet voice coaxing her through it, his forehead now pressed to hers as his fingers continued to gently thrust into her through the aftershocks. Only when she was trembling and weakly shoving at his wrist did he finally stop his movements, his lips meeting hers in a series of soft kisses as her chest heaved beneath him.

"Yeah?" He murmured with a smug grin, pulling back to smooth her hair away from her damp face with his clean hand as she stared up at him in bewilderment.

Spencer Reid had just caused her to cum harder than she ever had in her life. Spencer—the same Spencer that was too shy to look her in the eyes for a solid month after first meeting her— just made her cum so hard she almost blacked out. She understood why he was a man of magic now... and it had nothing to do with the novelty tricks he was always showing off.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered in response, still reeling from her orgasm.

If that was the type of climax she could reach simply from his tongue and fingers, she was convinced that she'd never actually experienced one with anyone else.

"Do you want to stop there? Or do you want to keep going?"

Spencer's voice was soft as he stared at the gorgeous woman beneath him. He found it ironic that he was already kneeling between her thighs because that had now become his place of worship. His redemption came in the form of her essence, dripping from his fingers as they rested against her hip. He'd never need anything else as long as he had her.

"Keep going. I want to keep going," Y/N pleaded softly, her hands reaching for his boxers. "Just—c'mere. Wanna taste you before you fuck me brainless. Please?"

A pitiful whine left Spencer’s lips as he felt his composure crack slightly. He wasn’t prepared for her to practically beg to suck his cock. He found himself nodding mindlessly, his hands going to help her strip him of his boxers before he remembered the mess still clinging to his fingers.

“Clean these for me first, sweet girl. Then you can.”

Spencer brought his fingers up to her lips, watching in amazement as she obeyed without a fuss. She even went as far as moaning while she licked his fingers clean of her, holding his gaze while she did. Y/N knew what she did to him. She knew he was just as affected by her as she was him. And she reveled in it.

Once he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them from her mouth before ridding himself of the last shred of fabric between them. The second that Spencer was bare before her, she pounced. Her hands pushed at his chest, urging him to lie back as she crawled on top of him.

“You’re so pretty, Spence,” Y/N breathed dazedly, pecking his lips before trailing her kisses down his chest. “God… look at you.”

Spencer flushed bright red while she continued to murmur her praises as she gripped the base of him, his cock twitching in her hand.

He had never been particularly confident—growing up as a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school had stripped him of any sense of self-worth before it had a chance to take root. Unlike Morgan, he didn’t have the muscles or the easy charm with women. He could count the number of sexual encounters he’d had on one hand. His dates rarely progressed beyond the first, driven away by his nervous rambling and the unpredictable demands of his job.

The only way Spencer even knew how to make Y/N feel so good was because he had studied every piece of material he could find on the intricacies of female anatomy and sexual pleasure on the off chance one of his dates would blossom into something more than an uncomfortable hook-up and dash situation. It also helped that he’d pined after her since he’d known her, that longing translating into a dire need to make her feel the best she ever had because that’s what she deserved. She deserved to feel pleasure in its purest form, to feel cherished and worshipped because that’s how precious she was to him.

And in this moment, as she gazed at him with the kind of reverence that made it seem as though he was the center of her universe, Spencer believed that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to feel that way too.

His fingers grasped helplessly at the carpet beneath him as her beautiful lips wrapped around the flushed head of his arousal, a muffled curse falling into the air as she swirled her tongue around him. Y/N smirked around her mouthful, her eyes glinting with amusement as she inhaled through her nose and pushed lower, taking him into the back of her throat. The gag that she emitted from the motion had his hips jerking up, a flurry of apologies spewing from his mouth.

Instead of responding verbally, she simply grabbed his hands and guided them to her hair, encouraging him to take hold and move her as he pleased. Once he threaded his hands through her hair, she continued. Her own hands planted firmly on his thighs as she began to bob her head around what she could fit, a soft hum vibrating around his length as her eyes fluttered shut.

Spencer was speechless— absolutely floored as he stared slack-jawed at the woman moaning around his cock like she was the one receiving pleasure from it. He gave an experimental tug of her hair, his head falling back with a thunk as she moaned louder and moved faster. It was as though she were unraveling his very soul with her tongue, hurtling him towards an orgasm he didn’t want to have just yet.

“Y-Y/N wait I— ngh!” Spencer groaned, his grip on her hair tightening unintentionally as he tried to pull her off of him. “I won’t be able to fuck you if you make me cum down your throat, pretty girl. P-please—“

Y/N whined in protest but finally eased herself off of his cock, a trail of spit bridging her lower lip to the head of him as she stared up at him with watery eyes and swollen lips.

Spencer felt delirious as he took in the sight. It was something he’d dreamed about (albeit guiltily) for years, and having the real thing in front of him was infinitely better than anything his subconscious had conjured up during those restless nights. She was a vision; a work of art that deserved to have a museum dedicated to her and her alone.

“Oh, don’t pout. Unless you don’t want to be fucked anymore?” Spencer chuckled breathlessly, arching a brow as she moved to straddle him. His hands found their way to her waist, a shudder running down his spine as she settled over him.

“If you won’t fuck me… I have a pretty nice dildo in my bedside drawer that should do the trick,” Y/N hummed coyly, dragging her heat across the length of him with a soft sigh.

Spencer’s eyes darkened at that, his grip on her hips tightening to put a halt to her subtle movements.

“Yeah? You think it’d make you feel better than I could?”

Y/N swallowed hard, the aching between her legs starting to override her logical thinking. She knew the answer he was looking for; the answer that would give her exactly what she wanted. But she decided to be a smartass instead.

“Maybe,” She answered with a shrug, nibbling at her lower lip as she tried to fight against his hold to get the friction she craved.

“Go get it then.”

Spencer leaned forward, his nose brushing hers as she sat in his lap, a challenge in his gaze. He knew she wouldn’t—she was getting restless, just like him. But if this was the game she wanted to play, he was determined to win.

Panic spread across Y/N’s face at the cold, indifferent look in his eyes. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her frown betraying the sinking realization of the hole she’d dug for herself. They were both ridiculously competitive, so why she’d started this—rather than just admitting how badly she wanted him buried inside her—was beyond her.

“I was kidding,” Y/N huffed, tilting forward in an attempt to capture his lips.

Spencer leaned back, keeping his lips just out of reach. He shook his head, smirking softly. “Nope. Either go get it, or say you’re sorry.”

Y/N hesitated, frowning as she weighed her options. She wanted him so badly it hurt. But pride was a hell of a thing. She knew he wouldn’t back down. Normally, she wouldn’t either. But his cock was pressed so deliciously against her clit that she decided it would be more than worth it to lose just this once.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, barely audible.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Spencer’s taunting made her groan in frustration before she sighed and tried again.

“I said I’m sorry—“

He shifted them so that his back was against the couch, her knees on both sides of his hips digging into the carpet hard enough that he was certain it would sting once they started. He’d make sure to take care of her afterward, though. He gazed up at her with adoration, thoroughly enjoying how needy she'd become. Her breath hitched as he adjusted his hips, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

“One more time, hm?” Spencer coaxed, his hands now rubbing up and down her sides but still holding her tight enough that she couldn't rock against him. If he was honest, his resolve had crumbled as quickly as hers, but he couldn’t help from teasing her for just a little longer.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N cried out, her forehead pressing against his as she whimpered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Spencer finally pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling back, his lips brushing against hers as he crooned. “Good girl, baby. Thank you.”

Hearing the praise fall so easily from his mouth had Y/N canting her hips down eagerly, willing to do whatever he wanted just so she could hear his sweet words over and over again. Her determination didn’t waver, her hips pushing down insistently. Spencer’s hold on her waist faltered, and for a brief moment, gravity claimed its victory.

A startled gasp slipped from her lips as the tip of his cock pushed into her, followed by a guttural moan that had Spencer's ears ringing as he cursed loudly. She had been so used to his hold that she wasn't prepared to support herself, his hands having barely caught her from dropping completely. He immediately yanked her up, the cool air against his skin a shock after having felt her warmth for the first time.

“God—fuck!" Spencer groaned as his head tipped back against the couch cushions, straining against every instinct begging him to just drive into her and utilizing every muscle in his body to keep her suspended as she wriggled impatiently.

"Baby... how are you— how are you wanting to do this?” Spencer whispered, swallowing before he continued. “I’m pretty sure I have a condom in my wallet, but I… um. I’m clean...”

Their hearts pounded in their chests as his words lingered in the air, the only sounds in the room being the repeated menu options from the forgotten movie and the ragged rhythm of their breaths.

Y/N meweled, reaching down to realign him with her entrance. “I’m clean and on birth control… Can we...? Like this? Please—“

“Yes.”

Y/N chuckled at his blunt response, though she was just as desperate to feel him after having the faintest taste of what he felt inside her. Her lips found his for a chaste kiss before she finally began to lower herself onto his cock, this time without his resistance.

Her laughter died in her throat, morphing into a choked whimper from the stretch of him. Even with how aroused she was, trying to make him fit was a struggle. Spencer was easily the biggest out of anyone she’d ever been with— a feat she hadn't quite realized until she was pausing halfway down his cock with a stuttered moan, slowly circling her hips in an attempt to adjust to the sensation.

Spencer was convinced he'd somehow died and ascended to paradise as he gazed up at the angelic woman hovering above him, enthralled by watching her fight to take the full length of him into her depths. His hands massaged up and down her trembling thighs, hoping to help her relax enough to take the rest of him without it hurting. Hums of encouragement rumbled from his chest as he stared unblinking at her, the warm amber of his eyes almost consumed completely by his blown pupils. His thumb found her clit and rubbed small circles into it as her eyes fluttered closed and she inhaled sharply through her nose.

"That's it, sweet girl," He cooed, continuing his gentle ministrations as she whined from deep in her throat. "Just like that. You're taking me so well. My gorgeous girl."

There was a pleasant burn as Y/N gingerly lifted her hips, leaving only the head of him inside of her. The way her hardened nipples brushed against his bare chest had her shivering lightly, the touch sending small sparks of pleasure jolting through her. Soft whines spilled from her lips as Spencer moved his hands around to grip her ass, gently massaging the flesh as she raised up on her knees.

With a committed roll of her hips and a quiet grunt, Y/N finally took the rest of his length, their bodies now flush together as her head dropped into the crook of his neck. The whorish moan Spencer released into her ear as he bottomed out had her clenching around him, a dire need to cause more of those sinful noises prompting her hips to begin moving. The raw stinging against her knees as she began to ride him in earnest only spurred her on, her nails digging into his shoulders as her head lolled back.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, resting her forehead against his as she panted out his name again and again, chanting it as though it were a mantra.

Spencer shushed her, understanding exactly what she couldn't manage to vocalize. He nodded against her as their bodies moved in tandem. "I know, baby. I know. You feel divine. My sweet angel." He continued to murmur out his praises as his head rested back on the edge of the couch cushion, small fingerprint-shaped bruises marking her skin as he clung to her.

Her hips began to falter as exhaustion started to settle into her bones from the vigorous pace she'd set, her second orgasm brewing in the pit of her stomach as though it were a wicked thunderstorm in waiting, ready to roll in and wreak havoc on her entire body at any minute. The slick sounds of their bodies connecting over and over paired with the symphony of heady moans and whimpers spilling between them—it was all driving her closer and closer to ecstasy.

Spencer noticed the fumble in her movements, his brows pinched together as he fought to keep his own climax at bay so he could enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in her walls for a while longer. But he couldn't let his pretty girl do all of the work, could he? That would be cruel.

He planted his feet into the ground, beginning to pound into her from below. A satisfied smirk adorned his face as Y/N cried out, her head falling into the crook of his neck once more as she began to babble incoherently against his skin. The pace he set was wild and unrestrained, the angle allowing him to drive into her g-spot repeatedly.

"Take it, take it, take it—" Spencer hissed through clenched teeth before he latched his mouth onto her right nipple, sucking at the bud and swirling his tongue around it.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, hanging on tightly as Spencer ravaged her. Her mouth hung open as moan after moan wrenched itself from her core and embedded into his damp skin. The pleasure searing through her veins was consuming her, burning her from the inside out. She was so close—

The catalyst for her orgasm came in the form of Spencer's hands slipping down her ass and underneath her thighs so that the tips of his fingers were brushing against where they were connected with each thrust. All it took was that one simple touch for the tension in her body to snap, her teeth digging into his shoulder as she tried to muffle her screams while her walls pulsed around him violently. Her eyes squeezed shut as she wailed his name loudly, not caring if any of her neighbors heard them at this point. She wanted the world to know exactly who was making her feel this good.

Spencer toppled them over onto the ground as she came around him, pinning her to the carpet and rutting into her fervently. Something akin to a sob fell from his lips before he abruptly pulled out, jerking his cock in quick strokes before he was spurting his cum across her stomach and tits with a cry of her name.

He crumpled to the ground beside her, pulling her into his side before he slung an arm over his face. Their chests heaved as they came down from their highs, both of them completely spent after such depraved lovemaking. His free hand stroked up and down her slick skin as she rested her head on his chest, calming the tremors wracking her body as they caught their breath.

Once Spencer regained feeling in his legs, he scooped Y/N from the floor and into his arms, hauling her off toward her bathroom as giggles bubbled from her lips at his surprising show of strength. Y/N watched with pure fondness as he started the shower, her heart swelling as he glanced back at her with a tired grin. When the water was warm enough, he held her hand as he helped her step in, following behind her with a hand wrapped around her waist to hold her steady.

After a shower spent lost in love-struck gazes, soapy caresses, and slow, tender kisses against the tiles, they ended up wrapped in each other's arms in her bed. It was only midday, but it was Saturday—so why not indulge in a nap? They had more than earned it after their (failed) movie marathon.

"Y'know," Y/N started, her voice low as fatigue began to cloud her mind. "You really do have massive hands." She took his hand, which had been resting loosely between them, lifting it to align with hers for comparison. His hand was nearly twice the size of hers, and the sight made her smile with amusement.

Spencer snorted, his nose scrunching as he laughed quietly at her observation.

"Well, yeah... I am 6'1", sweetheart. It would be abnormal if I didn't have massive hands," He stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, you love them. Really love them," He added with a sleepy smirk.

Y/N's face burned as she rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah. It isn't my fault you have hands that were crafted by Michelangelo himself," She murmured defensively.

Spencer pulled her closer, brushing a kiss against her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, and finally, her lips.

"You know I'm just teasing you. Did you know that—"

As Spencer began to prattle on about the variations and degrees of hand kinks and fetishes, Y/N's mind drifted back to the picture that had unknowingly set everything in motion. She couldn’t help but thank that raised crack in the sidewalk for pushing her old-fashioned boyfriend (that still felt so surreal to say) to embrace modern technology—because without it, she might have spent even more time blind to the fact that she was utterly, hopelessly in love with the man lying before her.

And as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Spencer felt a deep sense of gratitude for finally being able to love the beautiful woman in his arms the way he’d always dreamed of.

Continued A/N's: I felt evil for my first (published) fic being so angsty so I decided to write this as a formal apology LMAO. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it. Please tell me what you think and let me know if you'd like to see a sequel for this as well! :) K <3

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[band--psycho]

Vander x Reader - In Another Life (Part 1)

SPOILERS FROM ACT 3 - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

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The way I sobbed during this first episode when I saw Vander again!

I just had to write this afterwards - I hope you all enjoy this!

You woke with a start, your heart beating at a rapid pace as a light bead of sweat formed on your forehead. 

You stayed like that for a minute, just sitting upright in the bed as you began to catch your breath; your eyes focusing on the environment around you. 

You weren’t in your bedroom. 

In fact, you didn’t really know where you were…it was weird, although this place seemed so different to you, it felt oddly familiar at the same time.

The last thing you could remember was being in the room with the hexcore in it. 

Ekko…Heimerdinger…Jayce…where were they?

Thoughts were running around in your mind faster than you could keep up with them; you’d barely finished one thought before another one took over, as you tried to work out what the hell happened and where the hell you were. 

‘Am I dead?’ you thought to yourself, running your hands over your face. 

But all your thoughts were halted when you heard the door to your side creek open; followed by a voice that confirmed you must’ve been dead, or just completely losing your mind.

Vanders voice….

“Good morning, sleepyhead, or should I say afternoon,” he chuckled; a sound that made your heart ache, and yet at the same time, made you feel all warm and fuzzy. 

It was a sound that you never thought you’d hear again… 

A sound that had made you feel safe; regardless of what was going on, even now when you had no idea what was going on. 

You heard his footsteps getting closer to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

Not even for a second, just in case this was just your mind playing a foul trick on you. 

It wasn’t long before the sounds of his footsteps stopped and the bed that you were sitting on dipped as Vander sat in front of you.  

He lifted his hand to your face, tilting your chin up with his thumb, “You okay, sweetheart?”

His touch; it felt so real, so real that it made you sure it wasn’t your mind deceiving you. 

It couldn’t have been. 

Vander quite often occupied your dreams, and in every single one of them, his touch had never felt as real as it did in this very moment. 

“Am I dead?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, coming out in a small whisper.

Your eyes met Vanders gray ones, that’s when you noticed the worry that was slowly building inside them as he stared at you. 

“No, darl,” he cooed, wrapping his other hand around your waist, lifting you out of the bed momentarily before placing you in his lap, “you're safe.”

Safe.

You hadn’t been safe in a long time. 

And yet, here you were feeling safer then you had in years, with a man who should’ve been dead.

Your man. 

The love of your life. 

He was here. 

He was alive. 

You could hear his heart beating as you snuggled into his chest, savoring the all too familiar scent of Vander….smoke, fire and alcohol, mixing together with a small amount of cologne he loved to wear. 

“You’re alive…” you breathed, tentatively reaching out to touch his cheek. 

He seemed different. 

But in a good way.

The dark circles that were once under his eyes were pretty much all but gone; and his eyes seemed happier than when you knew him, as though he was free from all the stress that once plagued him. 

“Course I am, darl,” he assured you with a small smile; before pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, hoping that his small action would be able to ease your mind. 

It didn’t. Not really at least. 

You were so confused. 

You didn't understand what was happening.

You tried to blink back the tears that were forming in your eyes, tried to keep yourself together so you could figure out what was happening. 

So you could think logically. 

But there was nothing logical about any of this…the arcane….magic…it wasn’t something that was logical. 

But now, being wrapped up in Vanders arms again, made you want to throw logic to the wind and just stay like this with him for as long as you possible could, not knowing how long this could last.

You didn’t know what was happening, or how, or why; all you knew was that Vander was here. 

That was all that mattered.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @nagislemontea @dazecrea @littlejoyfullthing

[sugarushwriting]

cherry popper

reader x jay

jay, your long time school crush

a trip between your friend group and his to a cabin in the woods

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

check out my masterlist!

“will you loosen up!” your friend, yuna, exclaimed. “we are here to have fun!”

“hard to have fun when it’s freezing, a snow storm coming our way, and to top it off, you booked a cabin on a hill in the woods!” you rattled off, pulling your suite case out of the rented SUV.

your other friend, sully, scoffed, “you need to leave those suspense books and movies, alone.”

you huffed crossing your arms. “how did you even know my mind was going that way?”

“because your mind always does.” sully replied.

“no it doesn’t.”

“yes it does.” both sully and yuna replied with a laugh.

you huffed once again, your coat not doing much to keep you warm. “when are these other friends of yours coming, yuna?”

yuna smiled big, “oh soon. they should be arriving any minute now!”

you helped the girls with their suite cases, bright lights coming up the icy driveway. it had began to snow slightly, and was thankful you all made it before the actual storm.

3 boys got out of the SUV. jake, sunghoon, and jay.

you gasped, nearly hyperventilating. “yuna, i will kill you!” you said through gritted teeth, and both girls just giggled. “why didn’t you tell me it was them three? specially, jay!”

“because if i told you he was coming, you would’ve backed out!” yuna sighed.

“you’ve had a crush on him since high school. it’s been three years and we are now third years in college. it’s time to make a move.”

“and lose that damn virginity!”

you scoffed, slapping yuna’s arm, “not so loud, would you?”

yuna just laughed as the three boys came up the driveway with their own suitcases or duffles.

“hi ladies.” jake smiled.

“hi jake, jay, and sunghoon!” yuna smiled eagerly, you and sully waving.

all three boys greeted you by name and sully along with yuna.

“i’m glad you came!” jake said to you.

jay added with a chuckle, “when yuna said you were coming, we almost didn’t believe it.”

“oh yeah, well, i didn’t have a choice really.” you mumbled.

“it’s getting cold and my ass is freezing! let’s get inside. there’s a fireplace, how romantic!” yuna clapped and you all followed her up the steps, careful not to fall.

well, you tried to be careful, but ended up stepping on the snow wrong, and almost twisted your ankle.

jay caught you, “careful there.”

“oh, um thanks.”

yuna unlocked the door, you all rushing in to the warmth of the cabin airbnb. you all awed in delight with how beautiful it was.

“how many bedrooms does this place have?” sunghoon asked dropping his duffle.

jay and jake immediately went to the wood burning fireplace to add the already prepared, chopped wood.

“3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms.” yuna replied.

“three boys, three girls,” jay tapped his chin, “how are we going to divide it?”

“i vote jay sleeps alone. he sleeps with his eyes open sometimes.” jake shivered at the thought.

you and the other girls laughed. jay shrugged, not complaining to have a bedroom to himself.

“ok so jay in one of the master—,”

“why does he get the master?” sunghoon objected.

“because you and jake are getting the room with the bunk beds!” yuna laughed.

“okay, we can deal with that!” jake said excitedly, sunghoon chuckling.

children.

“the girls and i will share the other master bedroom.”

“won’t it be crowded for you three?” jay asked. “i can sleep on the couch—,”

“absolutely no way!” yuna interrupted. “we’ll be fine. we’re used to sharing small beds.”

jake looked at all you girls with a flirty expression.

“get your head out of the gutter, sim!” sully screeched.

jake laughed. “let’s just unpack and get ready for dinner.”

about an hour and a half later, you all had changed into comfy clothes, and made 3 frozen pizzas in the oven.

3 bottles of alcohol open—whiskey, wine, and tequila along with some seltzer cans and beers.

“let’s play never have i ever!” yuna offered.

you groaned. “that juvenile game?”

“and you have a better idea?” yuna narrowed her eyes at you, but you shook your head with a sigh. “no.”

“it’s settled then!” yuna clapped.

she was so happy and eager this trip.

jay watched you closely. he has of course noticed you around like the other guys have, noting how pretty you are, but you stayed much to yourself.

“i’ll start,” yuna tapped her chin in thinking, “mhm, never have i ever made out with a stranger!”

all three boys and sully took a drink.

jake looked at you and yuna, “really? neither of you?”

yuna and you both shook your head no.

“my turn!” sully said, “never have i ever, got a piercing other than in my ear!”

you and yuna drank to that. the boys raised their eyebrows at the both of you.

“matching belly button piercings.” yuna leaned against you.

“and it hurt like a bitch too!” you sighed.

“you still have it?” jake asked.

“i don’t, but she does.” yuna said. “my mom threw a fit!”

“can we see it?” sunghoon asked.

you shrugged, standing up showing off your belly piercing.

“nice!” jay nodded. “can i go?”

“sure!” yuna agreed.

“never have i ever had sex with a girl other than in a bedroom.”

“LAME!” both sunghoon and jake laughed. they took sips of their drinks.

“should’ve phrased that a bit differently jay.” sully laughed.

“fine, never have i ever had sex with someone else other than in a bedroom.” jay rolled his eyes.

yuna and sully took a drink, leaving you and jay out.

“yall are lame!”

“no surprise she’s not drinking.” yuna laughed.

“what?” jake asked and you slapped yuna’s arm once again, shaking your head.

“what’s the wildest place you had sex?” yuna asked.

“just a car at a park.” sully answered.

jake smirked, “dressing room.”

“hotel balcony.” sunghoon answered.

“hot tub.” yuna was the last to reply. “and sunghoon, we’ll revisit that balcony answer later.”

“we both know the last two who didn’t drink probably have only ever fucked in a bed.” jake joked.

“nothing wrong with that.” jay defended.

you kept your lips closed. jay looked at you as you stayed quiet not backing him up.

“don’t you agree?”

“oh, uh, yeah—um, i guess.” you shrugged, lacking the confidence in your answer.

“what do you mean, you guess?” jake teased. “don’t tell me—,”

“can we move on, please!” you rushed out. “someone say something that’ll make me drink!”

“never have i ever had a crush on someone in this room.” yuna smirked looking right at you.

damnit. you took more than enough sips.

each of the boys took a sip, you the only girl. “what, you both never found them attractive?” you stared at yuna and sully shocked. “or me?” you teased.

“so what you’re saying is you find one of us attractive?” jake grinned.

you looked wide eyed between the three boys. “i don’t like this game, let’s play something else.” you suggested nervously, gulping your drink, emptying the cup.

jay was wondering, who did you have a crush on in this room? he knew sunghoon had a small crush on sully, jake having a crush on yuna, sully, and even you at one point.

yuna pulled out uno cards.

“oh thank goodness, a normal game!”

“no way! we’re using this to play truth or dare!”

you closed your eyes taking a deep breath. “oh great.” you mumbled.

“let me explain.” yuna began, shuffling the cards. “if you draw a red or blue card, it’s a dare. if you draw green or yellow, truth. wildcard, you choose truth or dare, if you get any of the draw two or fours, then you pick a truth or dare and give it to someone.”

“what if we run out of questions to ask?” sunghoon brought up.

“ya, that’s what google is for! sadly i left my sister’s game. you know the one with explicit content and questions.”

“ryunjin is probably hiding it from you.” sully scoffed, sipping her drink.

“whatever, let’s play!” yuna pouted.

after another twenty minutes of truth or dare, yuna was tired of the boring stuff. you still weren’t flirting or making a move on jay. jake was getting annoying. sully was flirting with sunghoon, who claims so much she doesn’t have a crush on.

“next, you pick.” yuna looked at you with a bored expression.

you picked out of the deck—red.

yuna smiled wickedly, “let me ask you the dare.”

you swallowed nervously. so far, any cards you picked that were dares, the group went easy on you. but you could tell yuna was bored and on a mission.

“yuna—,”

“out of this group of boys, who’d you pick to have sex with?”

all three of the boys choked on their beers. “yuna, ya!” jay scolded.

“a little warning would be nice!” jake added wiping his chin.

your face felt hot. “oh, uh, yu—i don’t think,” you stuttered out looking between the three boys and yuna and sully.

“just pick one! not that hard!” sully smiled.

then yuna put you on blast. she rolled her eyes, “fuck this! who out of the three boys would you chose to take your virginity?”

you froze in place. so did sully. and so did each of the boys.

“yuna.” sully said through a warning tone. she can’t believe yuna outed you like that.

you swallowed, fighting off tears. it wasn’t like you were ashamed or embarrassed to be a virgin, but it’s not something you’d really want to advertise, especially in front of your crush.

you told yuna with your crush being jay, you wouldn’t mind he be the one to take your virginity. you knew he was a nice guy.

but you didn’t know if he had sex with virgins. or even would be interested in you that way.

“i need to pee.” you quickly stood up, running to the bathroom down the hall.

“not cool yuna!” sully snapped.

yuna shrugged. “i was sick of her beating around the bush. if i didn’t do anything she sure wouldn’t have.”

“well you didn’t have to out her like that.” sully pushed yuna’s shoulder. “go apologize, now.”

yuna looked at the boys who were quiet and felt awkward.

“maybe we should end the night. we have 2 more nights here to enjoy it.” sunghoon said standing up with a stretch.

the boys turned in for the night, and the girls went to the bedroom. yuna knocked softly on the bathroom door hearing you sob quietly.

“i’m really sorry.” yuna apologized.

you knew you would soon forgive her. yuna wasn’t a bad person, she just had a strong extroverted personality compared to you. sometimes yuna forgot you weren’t all about putting your business out there or being forward.

you soon came out the bathroom, giving your friend a hug, sully joining in.

“i’m sorry, i really am. it’s just,” yuna sighed, “i saw you weren’t going to make a move! at least now jay is intrigued.”

you looked at yuna like she had two heads. “how do you know that?”

“you’re a virgin, with a crush on one of the boys, and never answered that question or who you would choose to take your virginity.” yuna explained. “jay is romantic and polite, but he’s still a man.”

sully snapped her fingers. “i did see him sneaking glances at you.” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“no need to make me feel better.”

“we’re telling the truth!” yuna said. “trust me on this.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

around 2 am, you awoke freezing cold. of course you slept on the end, yuna and sully hogging the covers.

you got up quietly, walking towards the kitchen down the hall. you quickly made a cup of hot chocolate. while doing so, you noticed from outside, the snow falling heavily from the sky.

walking to the window, you stared up at the sky in awe at the gorgeous sight.

“pretty outside, huh?”

a voice startled you. turning around, you noticed it was jay, dressed in his pajamas.

you nodded to his question. “yeah, very pretty.”

he came up beside you, you turned back around to look out the window with him. “good thing we brought enough food to last us a couple days.”

“yeah.” you agreed softly. a cold chill ran over you, causing you to shiver.

“cold?”

you nodded. “sully and yuna are cover hoggers.” you laughed.

“i see you’re making hot chocolate. mind making me a cup? i’ll put more wood in the fireplace.”

you nodded walking back to the kitchen. jay put more firewood in the fireplace to get it warmed up, grabbing the extra blankets and pillows from the couch and setting them comfortably on the floor.

you brought jay a cup of hot chocolate, handing it to him, then sat down next to him, immediately enjoying the heat of the fireplace.

you both sat in quiet, enjoying the crackle of the fire, the quiet snow falling outside.

jay sighed deeply. “i, uh,”

you looked over at him, shocked he seemed nervous. you always thought he was cool and confident. the glow of the fire looked good against his honey skin, as his hands wrapped tightly around his cup.

“mhm?” you tilted your head, sipping the hot chocolate.

jay laughed nervously. “please don’t be offended.” he looked at you.

“i won’t.” you stated.

“i just—are you really a virgin?”

you sighed and nodded. “that i am.” you chuckled. “yuna didn’t lie.”

jay stayed quiet for a moment, calculating his next move. he didn’t want to scare you off or come off too strong.

“why?” you asked instead.

“mhm?” jay hummed, raising his eyebrow, sipping his hot chocolate.

“why did you ask if i was really a virgin?” you whispered out.

could yuna and sully be right?

jay scratched his eyebrow, then the back of his head. “it’s just, i don’t like questions left unanswered.”

“oh don’t i know it!” you chuckled. “remember senior year in high school? mr. youngin for once didn’t have the answer to a complex question and it drove you crazy?”

jay laughed remembering. “yeah.” he cleared his throat. “so i was wondering, um, actually, jake, sunghoon, and i were all wondering,”

you liked this side of jay, a stuttering mess. you bit your lower lip, fighting back a chuckle of amusement.

jay breathed through his nose, cursing himself for acting like such a loser right now. “so um, the first question, who in the room did you or do you have a crush on? and, uh, secondly, who would you choose to you know?”

you laughed, “no, i don’t know.”

where did this string of confidence come from? was it because jay seemed less intimidating than he does in the classroom? in an academic setting?

jay looked up at the ceiling, then back down to you. “who do you have a crush on and who do you want to take your virginity?” jay mumbled out quickly. “and please answer. please don’t leave me hanging.”

“why jay?” you asked seriously. “would you be disappointed if i said jake or sunghoon?”

“no, not disappointed. just, upset and jealous.”

you set your mug down next to you, grabbing jay’s chin between your thumb and index finger, making him look at you.

“it’s you dummy.” you laughed and kissed his lips softly, you both tasting like chocolate.

when you pulled away, jay almost looked like a giddy teenage boy. “me?” he whispered and you nodded.

“since second year of high school.” you confessed. “i’ve had a crush on you since then, jay.”

jay smiled confessing his own feelings. he hasn’t liked you as long as you’ve liked him, but he’s had a crush on you for the past two years, always afraid to make a move.

“yuna would punch us both.” you poked fun at.

jay had set aside his mug as well, leaning in to kiss your lips again. “do you want me to?” he asked against your lips.

“here? now?” you leaned away briefly, to look around the living room.

“i mean yeah. at least it’d be somewhere other than a bedroom.” he joked, but then cleared his throat, “but if you want to, we can go to my room.”

you’re starting to think yuna set this up in beginning—especially jay getting his own room.

“well it is kind of romantic to get my cherry popped by a fireplace.” you smiled.

jay smiled too, and leaned back in to kiss you softly. “i’ll be gentle, okay?”

you nodded against his lips, as he began to ease you down on the blankets that covered the floor. jay was careful to not bare all his weight on you, as his right hand ran up and down lengths of your side, goosebumps riding against your skin.

you then got shy. “uh don’t worry about going down on me or anything.”

jay looked at you like you’ve lost your mind. “i gotta get you turned on and wet for me.” he caressed your cheek.

you smiled shyly, “no need to worry about that. honestly been that way since you walked in the room.”

jay chuckled, “if you don’t want me to, i won’t, but i don’t mind it at all.”

“maybe another time? i—i just want my first time to be over. then you can take it slow if you want me a second time.”

“if? oh cherry, i will definitely want you a second time and more.” jay kissed roughly against your lips, appalled you’d even say something like that.

jay began to tuck his hand in your pajama bottoms and pull those, along with your underwear, down your legs as far as possible without breaking the kiss, then he did the same to his own bottoms.

“are you okay with no full nudity? still rather not have our friends get a full show.”

you nodded with a laugh. “yeah. let’s just be horny impatient teenagers.”

“i can do that. i—don’t have condoms, but i know jake does—,”

“absolutely do not wake him up!” you whispered. “how’s your pull out game?”

“well i’ve always used a condom—,”

“well tonight we can test it, if you’re okay with that?” you asked and jay nodded.

“yeah.” he answered softly. “just let me know when to stop if it hurts too much, okay?”

jay looked in your eyes, completely serious. you verbally told him you understood.

resting his forehead against yours, heavy breathing between you two, your face skewed, mouth slowly opening as jay push forward.

his dick meeting the tightness and resistance of you. you let out quiet gasps, as he slowly pushed in his tip, then inch by inch.

jay wasn’t lengthy, but he was thick.

your eyes snapped shut, your hands gripping jays shoulders, thankfully his skin protected by his shirt. a low moan of pain escaped your lips, mixed with a gasp as jay finished settling inside you.

he brought his lips down to meet yours for a rough, passionate kiss, almost as if he never wanted to stop kissing you.

jay used his tongue to distract you from your lower half and the stinging of it. he was still, dick settled into your cunt, which was pooling with wetness around him.

you didn’t even know you could get that wet.

just making out, while nestled inside you, when he felt you were distracted enough, jay pulled back slowly to push back even slower.

by accident you bit his lip. “fuck.” your head leaned back against the blanket, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

jay grabbed a pillow to place under your lower back for better leverage and for you to be more comfortable.

he sat up on his knees, your legs resting apart, enough for jay to rest in between them.

he pulled back out and began a slow thrusting pace, watching your facial expressions for any sign of extreme discomfort.

for the most part, you let out low pitched moans, and bit your lip. jays own mouth began to let out a few moans of his own, making sure to be quiet enough that only you could hear him.

other than the cackle of the fireplace and quiet sounds from you two, anytime jay pushed deeply into, your wet cunt made noise against his dick, it slicking down your behind, his balls slapping against your skin.

thankfully your friends were heavy sleepers for the most part.

jay leaned down for a different angle, his forearms resting on each side of your head, as his thrusts picked up in pace, the stinging pain still in place, but mixed with pleasure.

“fa-faster.” you grumbled against jays lips, and with no protest or hesitation, jay picked up this pace of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping getting louder, but you both ignored it.

your friends being able to potentially hear be damned. they’re always in your sex lives anyway.

jay thought you felt heavenly, and was for sure hoping for a second time, third time, as many times as he could, with you. he would definitely love to explore his sexual interests with you in different places.

he never had any interest in having sex with someone in someplace other than a bed, but with you, he can imagine taking you against the kitchen counter, a couch, in his car, against a fucking desk in an empty classroom.

the thought only excites him more, and when he heard the squelch of your cunt, he was done for.

“shit, im gonna come.” jay whispered out, leaning his hand down between the both of you to stimulate your clit.

you’ve never experienced an orgasm in your life, so you had no idea what they felt like. all you could feel was your bottom half starting to become overly sensitive, your legs shaking, and wanting jay to stop because you felt like crying.

“jay—it all feels like too much.” you cried against his shoulder. “i—i can’t take anymore, please.”

jay with a proud smile, kissed your forehead, quickly pulling out, lifting your shirt up to come on your stomach. in the belly piercing he finds so damn attractive. his come perfectly landed there, dripping down to meet your cunt.

“sorry—should’ve asked where you wanted me to come.” jay sighed in content and out of breath.

you laughed out of breath yourself. “s’fine.”

jay took off your bottoms completely, but pulled his up. he covered you with the extra blanket.

“mhm, wanna take a bath or shower?”

“why? want me in there too?” you joked.

“of course. but you’ll start to ache soon, shower sex can wait for now.”

you nodded tiredly. “can i sleep with you?” you yawned.

“of course cherry.”

“mhm, cherry?”

“my new nickname for you.” jay kissed your cheek.

thank you yuna!

[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Issue 30 (2024)

By Aj, Dion, Briar, Jen and Peter

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people see it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

Event Highlight!

In this Issue we take a quick look at the Videotome Jam hosted by Freya, the dev behind all the Videotome game engines!

Continue reading to find out more!

We want some feedback!

As we’re starting to get a hand of things, we would love some feedback from you guys! What you enjoy, want more or less off, how we could improve... Anything goes! We even have a nifty form.

We hope you enjoy this new issue!

AJ, DION, BRIAR, JEN AND PETER

~ BE A PART OF THE ZINE ~

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

Contact us through Tumblr asks, Forum DMs, or even by email! And thank you for your help!!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : Videotome Jam - "Waiting" ~

November 16th to December 1st 2024

Videotome Jam is a two-week-long game jam for games made in any of the Videotome engines with the optional theme of "Waiting".

What is Videotome?

Videotome is a series of small homebrew IF/VN engines made by Freya Campbell (communistsister), an indie game developer focusing on narrative games that are usually:

science fiction, horror, &/or romance

close to 100% LGBTQ characters

free/PWYW with low tech requirements

liable to make players keysmash due to feelings

Videotome was first released in April 2022 as a part of a game entry for the Domino Club collective. The initial idea for the engine was to make writing text-heavy games as hassle-free as possible, focusing not that much on the visual presentation format, but more on the writer's experience. It would allow writers to write in a notepad and then it would somehow grab the .txt file and parse the lines into an array, spitting them out one line at a time as a kinetic novel.

At the moment there are four engines available:

Videotome, for linear, no frills text / images / music;

Videotome ADV, adding a more conventional layout with ignorable choices and branching;

Super Videotome, for more fully featured and freeform image/canvas use;

Videotome Heartbreak, adding a stat raising dating sim & storylets structure to the above.

If you're more interested in the process of making these engines, check out the devs blog post - Words, Friction, Syntax: Stuff I thought about when making Videotome. (The post also includes a very interesting case study concerning other game engines Freya has experience with.)

If you want to check out some examples of projects made with Videotome, take a look at this collection. It includes games made by both Freya and other devs.

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

The voting for ECTOCOMP 2024 has officially started! To vote and participate as a jury, you must do so by giving between 1 to 5 stars on each entry page of the jam. The voting period ends on November 30.

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

A Hallmark movie is a feel-good, family-friendly film, often centered around romance, personal growth, or holiday themes. A Very Hallmark Game Jam with a theme of “Charming Love Interest with a Secret” is also all about that!

Are you a fan of Videotome games? Then the Videotome Jam with an optional theme “Waiting” is for you!

This year’s Yuri Game Jam is in full progress. The devs have until December 2nd to submit their projects.

The Educational Jam is a perfect place to learn something new. Discuss some obscure tidbit. Showcase your insight about a specific thing, your pub trivia skills, or that Wikipedia rabbit hole you went down last time.

Disabled Rep VN Jam has a very simple premise but a very important message.

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam. It’s running from October 1st to January 31st.

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted March 3rd 2025.

Are you perhaps a fan of more somber, melancholic themes? Then check out the Dying Year - Visual Novel Jam! You have until the end of the year to participate.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

~ OTHER ~

PIZZAPRANKS is accepting submissions for their Indiepocalypse Issue #61. If you’re a dev and would like to try out your luck, definitely check it out! Any game is welcomed, not only IF.

~ NEW RELEASE ~

In Arctic Adventure unearth forgotten journals, repair malfunctioning equipment, and solve puzzles to piece together the station’s dark past. But beware—some secrets are better left buried in the ice.

You are a dragon - huge, winged, flying and even capable of magic. Only here, in a system of caves created by your magic, you can be yourself. But the time has come for you to leave your home. The old map, that you've been keeping since times immemorial, is now ready to unravel it's secrets in A Dragon and the Tower.

You’ve spent your whole life visiting the majestic Hotel Lexington, and now you’ve inherited it! The once-grand building is in disrepair, and rumored to be haunted! You’re the only one who can restore its former glory before it’s lost forever. Check in to your hotel, and check out the ghosts in Haunted Hearts Hotel.

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

You are a key member of "The Constellation Club," a close-knit group of friends brought together by your shared love for music and dreams. Over time, the club members drifted apart, but a mystery brings you all back together. Reunite with your friends, uncover secrets, and chase the dreams that first united you in The Constellation Club (Twine).

Have you enjoyed the first Volume of Oblivious Melodies? Then be sure to check out Chapter 1 of Volume 2 (Twine)! You play as the Horne siblings, navigating their emergence into gentry society. You will delve into a country divided by class, religious dissent, political factionalism, and the ever-encroaching interests of empire. @oblivious-melodies

In Ashenmaw - Dragons of Marrowoods (CScript) you play as a freshly hatched dragon whelp, navigating the odds and ends of the politics and mysteries of the five flights. Intermingle with the younger races, and jump headfirst into uncovering the secrets of Ashenmaw and the Marrowoods. @ashenmaw-if

Aydan joins his husband Leo in this important family reunion that takes place 2 months after his father’s death. Suddenly, they are all trapped in the house for 3 days and the lawyer states that one of the siblings is the murderer of their own father! Find out who the real culprit is in Guilty at 5PM (Ren’Py).

In a realm of forgotten tales, you emerge as a ghost to yourself. Stranded in a land where memories fear to tread, the icy breath of solitude kisses your bare flesh, a chilling reminder of your forsaken existence. In this realm where salvation dances with oblivion, Snowborn (CScript), awaken to tread the treacherous path through a world steeped in sorcery and demise.

You are a young nobleman, in a stagnating empire, either on the verge of resurgence, or it’s final demise. An Empire held together by fragile institutions, led by ego-driven men. And here you are, in the middle of it all. As this den of vipers strike, where will you fall? Find out in Scion of the Alason (CScript).

You wake up suddenly with a system telling you that you are occupying the body of a green tea b!tch! The spy of the fearsome overlord, Hasthael who betrayed him for the male hero, resulting in the death of his beloved lightning hound. Avoid the fate of dying and accomplish the missions given by two of the available systems in Project Dominion (CScript).

You are the Aeon, an omniscient entity as old as time. When your powers begin to malfunction and the source of an incoming threat is unbeknownst to you, how will you protect the fabric of the universe? Abandon your omnipresent form for the first time in millennia and craft an identity as a demon to infiltrate the Ethereal Plane in The Time Keeper (CScript).

~ UPDATES ~

Aesemyr: The Withering (CScript) released 3/4 of the "university gathering" path of Chapter 3.

After Dark (CScript) released the last part of the fifth day of the journey.

Eldritch Tales: Inheritance (CScript) released part one of Chapter 3. @darielivalyen

Honor Amongst Thieves (CScript) updated their public demo. @leoneliterary

Oh Mother, Where Art Thou? (CScript) started Act 2 of Chapter 1.

Our Life: Now and Forever (Ren’Py) added extra content to their Patreon demo. @gb-patch

The Abyssal Song (Twine) released Chapter 5. @ri-writes-if

Virtue’s End (CScript) has updated their Patreon demo. @virtues-end

When Life Gives You Lemons (CScript) updated their public demo. @when-life-gives-you-lemons-if

~ OTHER ~

Is playtesting something that interests you? Check out part one of Drew Cook’s let’s TEST IF #1: being a playtester. @golmac

GlasswingGames is currently running a giveaway! You can enter to win either a chibi or emote of a character of your choice! @glasswinggames

~

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

God-Cursed by @wings-of-ink (Twine)

I think this game is fantastic. Plot, ROs, writing, everything. Deserves thousands of reads and compliments!

//recommended by Briar [Team]//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

Hello! I appreciate what you all do. As a living thing with a 9-5 job, I couldn't regularly check updates from existing WIPs, especially the ones I really like. I also tend to be the last person to know new IFs with lots of potential. So, I'm glad that with your zine, I get weekly updates from everyone in one place. Thank you, thank you so much!

- a very mysterious anon

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

our awesome mysterious anon!

For a very encouraging message!

As always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on the last issue!

What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We actually have a separate Zine for all our individual Interviews!

Last Issue’s Interview with Leia Talon will be added this upcoming week.

And see you again next week!

AJ, DION, BRIAR, JEN AND PETER

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 30

[hyperdramas]

1-800-got-stress | jeon wonwoo

pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

warnings: non-idol au, college/professor au, slight romance (?), english professor wonwoo x teacher's assistant reader, tiny sprinkles of humor, one-sided crush (?), wonwoo is very dense when it comes to reader's romantic feelings (not really though), reader still loves him anyways, cute ending??

now playing: return of the mack, mack morrison

dedicated to: @k1eev (<3)

"After the lecture, I want you all to come see my assistant before you leave. She has the next module printed out and organized for you all." Wonwoo's deep voice is the next thing you hear once you snap back into reality, and many of the college student's eyes dart away from you as you look around, more than likely aware of how long you've been gaping at the English professor.

Jeon Wonwoo was the person always on your mind now—ever since you started as his teacher's assistant earlier this month, you've always been thinking about him.

He was everything you weren't—calm, professional, disciplined and put-together. He knew what to say and how to say it, and what to do and how to do it—you were ninety-nine percent convinced that there was nothing Wonwoo couldn't do.

Not only was he annoyingly perfect at his job, but he was annoyingly handsome too—he was handsome to a massive amount of people, students and other professors included. He had sharp eyes that seemed to grow even sharper with the perfect amount of tiredness, and hard-edged features that you had memorized now with how much you had stared at him when he worked.

Time went slow as Wonwoo talked, deep voice echoing through the lecture hall as he gave his presentation on the deeper story of Romeo and Juliet, asking his class questions as he gaged their attention span.

You thought about how nervous you would feel under Wonwoo's gaze. Your face just heated up at it, imagining how you wouldn't be able to look him in the face without feeling completely inadequate.

It was already hard for you to look him in the face, and you were his personal assistant.

"Please finish the last essay I assigned at the beginning of the month. Since we're starting a new module this Friday, I want everyone to be on the same page." Wonwoo's voice was monotonous as students started to pack their things, and you placed the stack of module papers on the desk, letting the students grab and go.

The class filtered out slowly, some staying behind to ask Wonwoo questions and garner advice from him. You watched them quietly, straightening the closet as you dipped in and out of their conversations.

You had just heard another professor enter the room, asking Wonwoo to go out with her tonight for a drink, (to which he politely refused), when Wonwoo had addressed you.

"Are you doing alright? You've looked really tired today." Wonwoo's thick, stern eyebrows are flat as he stares at you blankly, and you try to read his sharp eyes for any flicker of emotion for a quick second, giving up as you give him an awkward smile.

"Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Jeon. I'm not even tired—just a bit distracted, that's all." You reassure him, and Wonwoo nods, looking down at his watch as you finish straightening up your desk.

"You should get some rest. It's not good for you to be tired and trying to assist me, is it?" Wonwoo has a faint smile on his lips when he says this, and you try not to blush or melt under his hot gaze against your skin, fiddling with your collar awkwardly as you nod.

"Here, let me help you with those." Wonwoo's voice is directed to the stack of heavy books teetering on the end of your desk. You nod to him gratefully, allowing him to pick them up as you walk to the other side of the room, unlocking the storage closet door.

He held the books without strain, face still as he waited for you to finish putting your share of books down. Wonwoo followed you, cologne wafting in the air and drifting under your nose as he turned off the lights.

"Thank you for today. You did very well." Wonwoo's voice was sweet as he smiled at you, and you returned the gesture stiffly, making your way back to the desk as you grabbed your things.

"Of course, Mr. Jeon. You did well too, I mean—you did well with the lectures and everything. You teach everything in such a fresh way, it's tough for anyone to not be compelled or interested in what you're teaching." You were a sucker for Jeon Wonwoo, and it was starting to show more and more now—how were you supposed to be normal about him?

"It takes a lot to make the lecture engaging and informative, so I'm glad you think that of me. Many students call me the boring teacher." Wonwoo's voice is lighthearted as he finishes straightening up his desk, and you chuckle, mostly at the absurdity of his words.

"You're quite the opposite of a boring teacher, in my opinion. Your stories and explanations are way more animated than the textbooks could be." Were you showering your superior-turned-crush with embellished compliments? Yes. Did you want him to notice?

...Not really.

"You sure do have a lot to think about me, don't you?" Wonwoo's voice is still playful, even if it has a neutralness to it. You blush slightly at his words, earning a smile from Wonwoo as he smiles. "I'm just teasing you. I appreciate everything you say to me."

A slight pink tint to Wonwoo's cheeks brings an even brighter one to yours, and the two of you fall silent, obviously sensing something between you. Wonwoo's eyes rake over your form, and you shyly look up at him, dark brown eyes behind his frame still making you warm inside as you sigh (dreamily and deliriously, as you might add).

You had made Wonwoo—Professor Jeon Wonwoo, the boring, scarily neutral English professor—blush from your compliments. You would be wallowing in your achievement if you weren't also blushing at the moment.

"Well, I, uh—" You stumble over your words, also stumbling over your book as you pick it up from the floor. Wonwoo watches you quietly, glasses sliding down his strong nose bridge slightly as he watches you head towards the door. "I should get going. It's getting late, and I have to be back here early tomorrow."

"I'll walk you to your car." Wonwoo nods, following suit as he slips his jacket over his broad shoulders and picks up his briefcase. His dress shoes hit the wooden floor as he follows after you, and he turns out the light, leaving you two engulfed in darkness for a few seconds as you stumble back, stepping on Wonwoo's foot.

He grunts harshly under you, and you scramble back, lights in the hallway illuminating your embarrassed blush. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Wonwoo just smiles again, smile lines sending butterflies that go straight to your stomach. "No worries. You couldn't see because of me, and I'm sorry." His cologne is so strong and so him you can't think straight, but you do your best to string your words together.

"Well, Mr. Jeon, I'll see you tomorrow," The two of you had just left the building, now by your car as you unlock the door. Wonwoo watches you with sharp eyes, clearing his throat as you turn to him.

"If—If you'd like, we should converse over dinner sometime. Not as coworkers, but as good friends." Wonwoo's sentence brought a rude awakening to your world, and you stood in shocked silence for a second, processing what he said to you as you blinked blankly.

Wonwoo considered you to be a good friend—you would have never told by how unfazed he was by most things, but he considered you to be more than a coworker or partner. He saw you as a friend. A good friend who was asking you to dinner.

"Yeah, we—we should, Mr. Jeon." You agree, and Wonwoo clears his throat, sharp eyes daring away as he adds, "Oh, and you can call me Wonwoo. We're comfortable with each other now, so we can drop the formalities."

Not only were you Wonwoo's good friend, but you were such a good friend you could now call Mr. Jeon by his real name, Wonwoo. Too many green flags were going off in your head, but could Wonwoo sense he was giving you all these green flags? It only made your crush on him worse.

"Well, I'll get going, Wonwoo." Even his name on your lips felt sweet, and Wonwoo nodded, giving you a small wave as he closed your car door.

"Until tomorrow." He smiles softly again, and you melt into your seat, smiling as you nod back. "Until tomorrow."

feedback & reblogs are appreciated! love u lyrnation <3

[rhiannonsknife]

https://x.com/femmeflix/status/1852896350481825792?s=46&t=PsXAfTCJv59FchQIdn66aA

I’ve been obsessed with Jackie/your Jackie fics and thoughts lately.

This with Jackie in the wilderness though..? Maybe an AU where she never died and find excuses to keep you “warm at night” in winter? You’re in the farthest corner of the cabin when she starts grinding against you softly. The others are asleep but you still have to be quiet, silently sighing into the other’s mouth as you get each other off…

-🪩

thank you 🪩 anon!! i probably added way too much background lore, but i hope this is what you had in mind <3 nsfw below so: mdni!

i feel like, unlike shauna, jackie would not be so in denial about how touch starved she is. i think she’s well aware that she needs somebody’s comfort, yet ever since doomcoming, she and shauna have not spoken properly and she won’t even look in travis’ direction.

it wasn’t just the betrayal itself, you think, without ever saying it out loud, it was the audacity of it. now, every time jackie glanced at shauna, all she could see was the life she used to have, the life she had taken away piece by piece: her boyfriend, her best friend, her sense of control. nobody is ever calling it by name in spite of the elephant (shauna’s bump) in the room.

jackie hadn’t acknowledged the pregnancy out loud, yet the unspoken tension hangs in the air whenever they are forced to share space, impacting all of you.

the more time passes, the colder everyone gets.

except for tai and van, the rest of the team has sort of neglected the need for physical touch and closeness. without anyone around that you’d be comfortable enough with to ask for a simple hug, you try to do the same as everyone else. only at night, with the others fast asleep, you ever dare to wrap your arms around yourself, picturing it’s someone else holding you.

you won’t let it show to the others, though, not wanting to be the first to break under the current circumstances.

turns out you don’t have to wait too long for someone else to be in a similar position: jackie had been the one to lose it from the start. sure, you’d all been terrified, but out of all the girls, jackie had been the most stubborn when it came to her chores out here.

she’d always been the one least likely to adapt to any of this: to the wilderness, to the cold, to the isolation that gnawed at all of you. she wasn’t built for this life, and everyone knew it, including her. but jackie wasn’t one to let people see her break easily: the same jackie who once thrived on attention now barely spoke, her haughty attitude replaced by something more brittle.

it had only been a matter of time before this facade cracked.

you’d seen her unraveling slowly. the way she avoided shauna, the way she avoided everyone, really. how she snapped at taissa for trying to delegate chores or rolled her eyes at nat’s attempts to hunt. she’s so desperate to seem untouchable, but it is clear to you that jackie’s just lost. and hurt.

and then came the nightmares, too.

you start to wake at night to the sound of her gasping, a sharp cry muffled into the blanket she clutches around her. she must’ve shot up, her breaths coming fast and shallow, and for a moment, you think she might wake everyone else. but the others keep sleeping, too used to the sounds of restless nights to stir. that’s how it starts because you -unsure of what else to do- only reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. jackie flinches, not expecting anyone else to be up at this time. you two never talk about it afterwards but you feel the way she instantly melts into your touch.

that small gesture is what makes you realize how much you’ve missed being close to another person.

after this, it is like a switch has been flipped: jackie is fixated on always lingering in your presence, eager for any kind of touch she can get, whether it’s a brush of hands, her palm to your back, or sitting shoulder to shoulder. she even picks up certain chores just to be near you. whether it is a desperate attempt for proximity and closeness or a real crush that’ll keep on growing beyond this place where you’re stuck, it feels nice to be wanted like this.

one of these nights, with the cabin quiet and the air heavy with the sound of soft snores and the occasional crackle of the dying fire, jackie takes things one step further.

everyone else is huddled together for warmth, but in the farthest corner of the room, it’s just you. or at least it was, until jackie had slipped down beside you, her breath visible in the freezing air as she sits close -closer than she needs to.

she whispers, careful not to wake the others, “it’s freezing. you’re practically an icicle over here,“ she hesitates, her hands tugging at her blanket as if trying to decide what to say next. after another moment, she ventures, “i don’t know how you’re even handling it. i feel like my fingers might fall off any second”

her eyes flicker to yours, searching for something. permission, maybe, to come even closer than she already is. “you know,” she says lightly, almost offhand, “it’d probably be warmer if we shared. not that anyone would care… or even notice.”

she doesn’t press it further, leaving the idea hanging between you. sure, the two of you have shared your moments before, but you certainly hadn’t spent the night cuddling yet.

the silence stretches out, her gaze darting to yours again, waiting for any sign. and then you shift, just a little, leaning closer, not quite touching but enough to give her what she needs. the corner of her mouth twitches, and without a word, she slides her blanket open, wrapping it around the both of you as she settles closer.

jackie voice is barely above a whisper, the words brushing against your ear. “this is okay…right?”

you nod, softly, knowing she’ll see from where she’s curled up against you from behind. like this, the two of you lie in silence for a good while. you know jackie is awake still: you can feel the way she occasionally shifts, or how her breathing won’t still in a way that it would if she was asleep.

it’s strange, how natural this feels: being this close to someone, so comfortably tangled together after such a long time. a part of you had forgotten how it would feel. another part, the one that’s been falling in love with jackie taylor long before your plane crashed, longs to have her even closer and tries its very hardest not to allow your mind to wander…

jackie, on the other hand, hasn’t felt this close to any of the other girls either. without thinking, her hand moves of its own accord, around you to rest on your stomach. her fingers are cold, even through your layers of clothing. she brushes them lightly over your skin, the touch gentle. you audibly gulp, but let her.

after another moment, you are finally brave enough to shift. you lift yourself up and adjust until you’re facing her. jackie’s hand remains on the dip of your waist underneath the blanket.

your bodies are flush against each other, your breaths mingling in the sliver of air between you. jackie’s eyes widen a fraction as you turn, her hand instinctively tightening its grip on your waist. the shift in your position has brought you even closer together.

her hand slides further, fingertips tracing over the shape of your hip. “you’re still cold,” she murmurs, her voice low and hushed in the quiet cabin. her eyes rake over you, her gaze lingering over the curve of your lips.

“it is cold in here” you point out, shivering at the realization of her wandering eyes. jackie isn’t exactly subtle about it either. after all, there’s not much she’s ever wanted that she didn’t get.

her touch is moving from your hip down to the curve of your thigh. her fingers dance over the fabric of your pants underneath the blanket. she’s still fixated on your mouth, her breath hitching as she sees the way you shiver under her gaze.

jackie leans in a little closer when she feels the way your legs fall open under her hands, her lips nearly brushing against your ear as she whispers, “you know, i think i’ve got a few more ways i could help warm you up…” her hand moves again, sliding further up your thigh.

it’s pathetic, really. it’s a desperate attempt to cling to normality. to feel wanted in spite of everything. it’s a short moment in the terrors of the wilderness that she won’t speak about in the morning. but, fuck it, you’re willing to take it.

your breath hitches in your throat when jackie’s hand inches up your leg, a small noise slipping from your lips. immediately, jackie hushes you.

“sh” she says, eyes darting to where the others are fast asleep. “we have to be quiet” and with that, your last restraints are gone. it only confirms what jackie is up to right now -if it hadn’t been clear yet, it certainly is now. and while you know, rationally, that this is a bad idea, the need to feel someone’s touch is too strong for you to neglect it any longer: awkward attempts of trying to get off under the covers whilst everyone else sleeps are clearly not doing enough for you.

at least jackie seems to be on the same page.

you both shift and adjust against each other. it’s a little clumsy, and it takes a moment to find a good position, but it’s driven by the need for something you’ve both been craving, so you make it work. before you know it, jackie lingers above you in a way that has her center pressing against your own under the sheets.

she exhales a shuddered breath and your hands jump up to hold her hips. your eyes are wide as you stare up at her, partly in disbelief that this is happening, mostly because you can’t believe that jackie wants you like this.

jackie leans in, not kissing you yet, but with her arms bracing her weight on either side of your head, caging you in. her eyes are dark, her gaze flickering over your features in a way that makes your stomach flip.

beneath the covers, her legs shift, her body pushing further into yours, grinding against you for the first time, in a way that is deliberate and calculated. her breath stutters, her voice hoarse as she speaks, “you’ve gotta be-” she gasps, and bites her lip, resisting the moan that threatens to escape. “quiet”

oh, how you wish you could’ve met her under different circumstances. how you wish jackie could’ve wanted you like this all the way back home, so you could’ve heard the way she sounds when she’s moving on top of you.

when you finally come back to your senses, you decide to make the most of this opportunity. holding her hips a little tighter, you lift your own from the ground to meet her halfway.

jackie, who’s only ever known sex to be something merely mediocre, is surprised that grinding against you (fully clothed, and in a room full of sleeping people that prevent you from going all the way) is already better than anything she’s ever had.

she shivers as you take the initiative, matching her movements with a gasp that she barely manages to bite back. she arches into you, her body moving steadily now.

her hands slide up your sides, fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the warm skin of your stomach. she leans in, her breath a shaky, quiet: “god, yes…just like that…”

you can feel your own underwear, clinging to your arousal which is growing exponentially at this rate. there’s no way you’ll last long like this, not when you’re embarrassingly close to creaming your pants just from watching her. each of your movements is mirrored by one of hers, until you’ve found a good rhythm to grind against the other. at some point, jackie’s body goes slack and she drops forward. you instantly hold her to your chest as she keeps rutting against you, moaning the faintest little “ah, ah, ah” sounds into your ear.

the friction between you spikes, both of you desperate and greedy for more connection. your hips keep meeting in a slow, steady rhythm, both pushing and pulling each other into deeper contact.

her hands are still wandering over your body, exploring every inch of your skin she can reach through the clothing that’s supposed to keep you warm but is severely restricting right now.

she draws you closer, her mouth by your ear, her voice a low, husky whisper, “i want you…i want you so badly…” she whispers. whether jackie means it or not, it works on you.

“don’t stop” you tell her, rocking into her equally desperately. at this point you can only pray that no one will hear the creaking floor boards. the sheets are a tangled mess around the two of you, the covers having slipped down to her waist as the heat between you escalates.

“jackie” you whisper, hoping the urgency to your tone will get the message across. judging by the way she nods erratically, that seems to be the case.

“yeah” she says, bobbing her head still. “yeah, me too”

you, embarrassed as you are, cum first. it’s quiet, your lips parted in a silent scream as jackie’s constant rocking sends you stumbling over the edge you’ve been toeing since she began straddling you. she watches you fall apart beneath her, not once slowing down or stopping altogether, determined to make herself cum too.

her eyes flutter and she struggles to keep her breathing steady as her hold on you tightens. “don’t- don’t you dare stop-“ she hisses, your pleasure not yet ebbing by the time she follows. jackie is beautiful, obviously, but you’ve never seen something that could ever compare to her when she makes herself come against you: her head falls back and her eyes close tightly. she’s biting her lower lip so harshly she could be drawing blood for the sake of not being too loud.

finally, after her body has gone tense for a couple of seconds, jackie slumps against you. she’s panting right into your ear, unable to speak as her orgasm washes over her. you can feel her thighs trembling around yours as she recovers.

for a few moments, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of the two of you as the silence hangs heavy in the air. the cabin is quiet, the rest of the team blissfully unaware of what just happened a few feet away.

“holy shit” you finally breathe, unsure of what else to do or say. thankfully, jackie doesn’t move away like a part of you had anticipated. she stays right there, on top of you, giving you the courage to hesitantly wrap your arms around her and hold her to your chest.

if you don't move, you'll fall asleep like this and the others will have plenty of questions in the morning. still, neither of you has got the strength to get up, to move away from the heat you're providing. your eyes grow heavy before you know it. it's the first night of good sleep in a long time.

[thesafireartist]

Happy anniversary to the movie that brought me this wonderful rewrite community, these amazing friends, and the motivation to be able to share my stories and art on Tumblr. Happy first birthday, Wish <3

(PLEASE click for better quality TvT)

I thought I’d celebrate by releasing the cover for my Wish rewrite comic, The Fallen Star. This community is seriously beautiful and I can’t thank you guys enough for supporting me thus far. I’ll have the next update soon, promise!

Until then, I hope you enjoy!

(Also if this was potentially a DTIYS where you could draw any part of the cover from Royalstar to Magmaya to Valentino I wouldn’t be opposed to revenging you with a doodle of your choice… 👀)

@annymation @oh-shtars @your-ne1ghbor @tumblingdownthefoxden @uva124 @luzlopesarts @gracebethartacc @thisnameisnotspokenfor @tiredmiddlechild @spectator-zee @ishadow246 @rylxdreams @a-storytellers-wish @rascalentertainments @cielos-pintados @snackara @strawbxerri

Btw I have to go right now but I WILL be reblogging this later with all the details I put into this bc ajdjahkjs I really like it

[starryal1na]

—❀ ‧₊˚. 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

genre: fluff, sfw

word count: 850

characters: aventurine, boothill, sunday, dr ratio

notes: this is just soft random thoughts i have about them and needed to write down, no theme in particular, dr ratio wearing glasses does things to me (*≧ω≦*), special thank to my irl friend charlotte (<3) for proofreading this ! divider credit to @/cafekitsune ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Aventurine ⊰ ⊹ ─

Owning himself plenty of jewelry, such as rings or expensive watches, it makes sense that Aventurine would want to gift his lover all kind of sumptuous pieces. Over the years, he has had you displayed with pearly necklaces, the shiniest earrings and even rings with precious gemstones. Undoubtedly you loved every single one of them. Each gift Aventurine has given you were meaningful to you, as a symbol of his deep affection for you. However, you must admit you have a favorite one. A gift from one of your anniversary that you adore more than anything. It might be the most classic piece of jewelry you own in term of appearance, but it holds a special place in your heart.

The gift is a bracelet, a thin gold chain gold with a small aventurine stone at its center. Beyond the fact that it is his stone, what's making this gift even more significant is that Aventurine has one as well. While you wear yours on your left, he wears his on his right wrist below his watch. He intented for the two of you to share matching bracelets you could wear daily and that was subtle enough only the two of you could really notice it through your other extravagant jewels. Since then, one glance at the aventurine bracelet on your wrist and your heart skips a beat ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Boothill ⊰ ⊹ ─

Every other day, Boothill finds himself mesmerized by the way you take care of your hair. Whether you brush it, braid it, decore it with accessories, he watches from afar with the softest glare. The one reserved for you, and you only.

Today is one of those where you've decided to use the cute ribbons you have recently purchased. Sitting confortably in front of your mirror, you feel Boothill's eyes on you as you display the cute accessories on the floor. "Which color do you think I should wear today ?" "Don't know, sugar. They'd all look fudgin' nice in your pretty hair" "That's very helpful thank you, baby". Boothill snickers, his attention splits between his gun he's been checking for a few mintues, and watch you clip a white and pink ribbon to the side of your head, securing a little braid. Fork, she looks so cute like this, he thinks to himself. Oblivious to your overheating cyborg boyfriend next to you, you finish your hairstyle and spin around with a "tadaaa !" only to find him dumbfounded and an adorable flush spreading on his cheeks. "Forkin' hell ! Got myself the prettiest gurl ain't I ?" Naturally, it ended with you pampering his face with kisses and he even lets you tie ribbons in his hair as well ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Sunday ⊰ ⊹ ─

Dearest Sunday was always a bit of a control freak, until he met you. Well he still is one but ever since you've become a couple, his controlling demeanour has somewhat softened. Your presence clearly helped him feel loved and needed, satisfying the yearn to be someone's special one. In the intimacy of your relationship, he has grown more laid-back, to the point of allowing you to touch his precious wings.

This has become one of your favorite ways to demonstrate your love, carefully and tenderly caressing his feathers. They're so delicate you often worry you'll hurt him, but it actually helps Sunday relax. "Do not worry, my angel. Think of it as a hug. It is warm and very comforting for me" he once reassured you. Afterwards, it became a routine for the two of you. Sunday coming home from an exhausting day, you helping him rest by gently stroking his pretty wings. You even make sure to rub the base, where the tiniest feathers are, and the contented sighs he releases reassure you that you’re doing a really good job ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Dr Ratio ⊰ ⊹ ─

Usually, when you look at Veritas, the words circulating in your mind are often along the lines of handsome, gorgeous, sexy, serious..... angry. However in the evening, it's different. Sitting in his favorite comfy chair, he pulls you onto his his lap and puts on his glasses to read. You're aware you should focus on your own book but those glasses perched on top of his nose are seriously distracting you. This time, your mind fills with nothing but cute cute cute cute cuuuute. Obviously, he feels your stare on him –of course he does– it's not like you're being subtle anyway. Still, he pretends to act oblivious until you're the one bringing it up.

As he turns a page of his book, you shift on his lap. "Come on. Say it." His tone is serious, yet playful. "You... Cute." You blurt out, immediatly covering your face to cover the prominent blush on your face. "Darling, have you lost your ability to form full sentences ?" His cocky smirk making your blush worsen, nuzzling your head on his neck to hide it. Smiling down at your pouting and flushed face, he returns his attention back to his book. Although you go back to reading as well, he knows you’re sneaking glances at him every so often ♡

/!\ don't steal, translate or repost this and claim it as you own /!\

[spiderb00]

Fam out - Sophia Laforteza

Sophia Laforteza X Reader 

Synopsis - Sophia loves when you're caring, serious, she LOOOVES ;)

Genre – Fluff, a little suggestive at the end? 

a/n - Was I so excited to write this, for some reason??? I think I also kind of like domestic things, so...  

I think it has a little bit of Yn!Oc in that, I mean, Yn is a little bit based on me and my personality <3

part 1 part 2

The theater was full, people quickly finding their seats, all excited by the movie. Yoonchae was happy to have someone she could share this experience with. The younger girl knew that as soon as she talked to Sophia she would agree to watch the movie instantly, but when Yn agreed to watch the movie with them, Yoonchae was more surprised than ever.   

You've been dating Sophia for six months, Yoonchae has always liked you, despite having similar personalities, you two were very different, Yoonchae thinks the age difference does that. The younger girl knew that you had a somewhat peculiar taste for a 21-year-old girl.   

Yoonchae liked to describe her personality as the "personality of a divorced father", she always said that Sophia's girlfriend liked rock, preferably older bands, wore band shirts, played guitar, loved horror and action movies, and had a vintage car (old) that seemed strangely comfortable to Yoonchae. She would say that you were quiet, a born observer. Yoonchae liked that, she found your personality cozy, even though other people found you scary.   

Yoonchae thought Sophia was happy in her relationship, and boy, could she not be more right. Sophia loved every detail of Yn, she loved you was always attentive, as you always did everything to make everyone comfortable. Sophia noticed every single thing, how you always grabbed the highest things from the shelves when the Kats couldn't reach, and how you always pretended not to care about the "thank you" from the girls, responding only with a brief "Hm".   

Sophia always noticed how you always left a bottle of water nearby at rehearsals you went to attend, or how you always applied the sidewalk rule when you went out for a walk, or how you always made sure Sophia had gotten home before starting the car and going home. Sophia has always noticed everything.  

But sure, her favorite interactions were with Yoonchae, Sophia loves it when you do something for the younger girl, something about it warms your heart. So when you said yes when Yoonchae invited you to watch "inside out 2" your girlfriend was automatically jumping up and smiling silly.  

Everything was cozy, the trip to the cinema in her vintage car – cof cof old cof cof – the smell of popcorn and even the feeling that the choice of seats was perfect, everything seemed extremely domestic to Sophia.  

When the movie started you were super entertained, all the colors and captivating animations held your attention. As the movie played, you noticed that Yoonchae's drink had run out. Looking at the Filipino girl's cup and seeing a good amount of liquid, you decided to get a little more just for the younger girl.   

"Hey, I'll be right back." You say, leaning in and giving Sophia a kiss on the head, leaving before she could say anything.  

After buying the drink and some candy that you think the girls would like, you went back to your seat, trying to be discreet and not get in the way of people.  

"Where have you gone?" Sophia asks as soon as you sit in the armchair.   

"Buy some things."   

You put the drink in Yoonchae's cup holder and hand her one of the candies you bought, knowing that it was her favorite.   

"I bought this for you, you like those, right?" You ask, looking at Sophia, who now had heart eyes.   

"Yes baby, thank you." The Filipino girl says before grabbing the back of your neck and giving you a kiss.   

"Of course, I'm here for that." You say, focusing on the film again, not before intertwining your hand with Sophia's. 

In the car, once again, Sophia felt that feeling, the cozy and domestic environment that she quickly learned to love. Yoonchae and you debated about the movie (More like Yoonchae talking and you agreeing and making comments here and there) while Sophia listened to everything in the passenger seat, scratching your head as you drove to the restaurant.   

When you arrive at the restaurant you unconsciously pull the chair to Yoonchae, doing the same to Sophia and then taking the seat next to your girlfriend. The food came, and you ate it amidst silly conversations and jokes. One of the jokes making Yoonchae laugh and unintentionally hitting the glass of water next to her.   

"Watch your clothes, Yoonchae." Sophia said as she picked up the glass that fell.   

"Oh my god, I'm sorry." The younger girl says as she gets up from her chair so that the water doesn't get on her clothes.   

"It's okay Yoonchae, it was just water. And the glass didn't break, I'm just going to ask the waiter to clean it, you can sit in my seat while I call the waiter, okay?"

Very interested in calling the waiter to clean up the mess on the table, you unfortunately missed the look that Sophia was giving you, but if someone who was around saw it, that person could tell that it was like a jaguar ready to attack her prey. 

You threw yourself on the bed next to Sophia with a sigh, the day had been fun and you were ready to rest. After leaving Yoonchae at home with the Kats, Sophia insisted that she would sleep at your house, you didn't question it, after all she could stay the night whenever she wanted, no matter how different something seemed.   

"Tired?"  

"A little, but nothing out of the ordinary. Did you have fun?" you asked, crossing your hands under your head and looking at the black-haired girl.  

"Yes, it was the best day," she said. "But it's about to get better." 

Sophia mounted on your waist with a smile on her face, legs on either side of your body, taking you completely by surprise.   

"With you everything always gets better." 

__________________

yes, they are Yoonchae's mothers... that's it :/

[ekmerald4]

Thank you so so so so so so so SO MUCH for sharing this beautiful piece. I am no artist, so I am not able to appreciate it the way a fellow artist might, but as an overall art enthusiast, I absolutely adore this. It has stirred something within me. The way you draw him as beautiful in a moment so tragic has got me staring for a good five minutes. Of course, as I am sure you are aware, your artstyle is absolutely gorgeous, yes, but what makes this incredible is not only the impressive precision of every detail and the attractiveness of your drawing style – no, it's the *scene* it draws and how it is portrayed.

Of course, as this is a work of art, I am sure there are dozens of ways to interpret and appreciate it, but the entirety of the composition is stunning. The curse afflicted on Capitano's neck, the wisps of it on his face, the scar near his eye that is a reminder to his identity as not only a Khaenriahn survivor, but also a warrior, the dullness of his eyes, the beautiful messiness of his hair, the white background that makes the blood stain seeping through his chest all the more stark, and Dottore? I wonder what he is doing here, that is a very interesting part. Is he here to collect the corpse after Capitano met his doom? He might have a need for it if he wishes to study the curse.

The way you portray this tragic death rings within me so deeply because that was indeed my first thought when he appeared. I still believe he will meet his end as the storyline progresses, and I can see it so vividly now that I saw this. I adore the tragic undertones that wrap around his character from every side, I adore the inherent darkness and sadness that warp him even as his senses of justice and loyalty do not succumb, I adore the cycle of pain he lives through as he feels himself fade, and how his response to that is not near as destructive as what he goes through. I adore how keenly aware he is of his own fate. I adore the loss and desperation he must feel as he becomes something none of his dear ones would recognize.

I adore, most of all, how the mask he uses to shield himself and others from what he has become has been stripped away, laying not too far away from his exposed face, a sign of release from his shackles. I adore how despite the dullness of his eyes, the resignation in his face, he suffers no more. I adore how despite him meeting his end, death finally decided to grant him the peace he has not known for so long.

I adore how you lay him to rest, relieve him from his agony, yet even when I can see the relief in the drawing, it does not make me mourn him any less. Seeing this made me experience a blend of happiness and sadness I cannot describe.

So again, thank you SO SO SO SO SO SO SO much for sharing this artwork with everyone. I might be inspired to write something as a result of it, and I will let you know if I do (and of course I would credit the source of the inspiration :3)!

(Sorry for the rambling, but I just needed to convey my fascination and gratitude XD)

When I first saw him I thought: "His end will be tragic."

[dunmeshistash]

Greetings, Mr. Meshi!

This is perhaps a bit of an unorthodox question, but one that has been bothering me for an unreasonable amount of time.

Now, here's the thing: I OBSESS over Marcille outliving everyone she holds dear. It's a theme very close to me, but even beyond that I just find it to be one of the most interesting elements of Dungeon Meshi's story for me personally. I've written an embarrassing amount of lengthy essays on it that will never see the light of day - that's how obsessed I am over this specific element of her character. But, there's something that bothers me...

A lot of poignant stories and artworks that tackle this topic get comments on 'em whenever Falin is the subject of aging, each one some variation of "Everything points to Falin having an extended lifespan after her revival!" which... Seems weird to me?

I don't know why this bothers me so much, but setting aside my personal annoyances, I don't remember anything pointing to this at all. At least, nothing concrete.

I don't know if this is a question you'd want to answer or not, but since your blog is a hub for all sorts of opinions and headcanons, I'd love to know where this line of thought could originate from.

I really wouldn't blame you if you didn't answer this question, though. Part of me feels I'm just asking this because I want to see if others share in my confusion or not.

Rrrregardless, though! Lemme take the opportunity to say that your blog is delighful. Love it! Also, that mushroom man with the funny face that sometimes responds to you with lengthy essays is also really cool. Everyone is cool. At least here on the northern hemisphere! It is smack dab in the middle of fall, after all! Coolness all around! Stay frosty! Or don't! Maybe warm up at a fireplace. I don't know!

Hi there! Thank you for the kind words, I love reading other's opinions on what I post so I also love the additions by the mushroom <3

It's quite hot over here in northeast Brazil, send some coolness my way please I'm dying.

Your question isn't strange at all! And I don't mind answering anything (unless it's rude or sounds like shipping war bait) so don't worry.

(Decided to put the rest under a readmore, TLDR: Kui said "maybe so, right?" about Falin having a longer lifespan but I have arguments why I don't think this actually confirms it. Anyway if you're someone who likes the headcanon you might want to skip this post)

To be honest those type of comments bother me too because I also LOVE Marcille's struggle with mortality and sometimes "Falin will live much longer!" feels undermining of the lesson she had to learn. I don't mind it in the headcanon sphere where everything is allowed and happy endings grow on trees but when it becomes intertwined with canon it starts to make me a little disappointed.

Just a reminder of the lesson she has to learn

She has to come to terms with the cycle of life and death, that something she wants (everyone to live longer) shouldn't be forced upon others just because it causes her grief. So, to me at least, Falin being made into something that will end up outliving other tallmen would undermine the message? In a canon sense ofc, if you're writing a wish fulfillment story then her living longer would have a different meaning, I just wanna be clear I have nothing against it in that sense, it all depends on what story you're trying to tell.

Anyway, actually answering your question that idea comes from the fact she was fused to a Red Dragon, and the fact her body has been affected by it, her sight was fixed and she grows feathers for example, so people theorize maybe her lifespan has been affected too. But we don't really know how long dragon's live so it's hard to say how much it would have been affected if at all.

It also comes from this answer Kui gave in a QnA

Q: Would Falin have an extended lifespan after the whole chimera thing? A: Maybe so, right?

To me this reads as the usual non-answers Kui gives, like, "I'll leave it up to your imagination" but for other people this read as a confirmation of the headcanon, in another questions she answers "I hope so" about Thistle leading a happy life after having his desires eaten and it's even debatable if Thistle survived at all so I don't think those comments indicate much of canon (I'm that way about most QnA answers tbh, unless it's something inconsequential like confirming Mithrun's Brother's name or stuff about very minor characters)

Another argument I have against her having a different lifespan is Izutsumi, Izu has been mixed with a monster but continues to age at the same rate a Tallmen would, even tho she also has different biology because of the Great Cat she's fused with (ears, reflexes, eyes etc etc) she is still a tallman

Falin isn't really the same thing as Izutsumi tho, I understand, but it's the closest example we have, if we believe the AB descriptions and demi-humans are really mixes between humans and monsters that's also another argument about it not affecting lifespan, since all of them are short lived and have an average lifespan of 55.

All of this *can* be dissmissed tho, the other demi-humans and beastmen are all mixed with mammal monsters and nothing nearly as powerful as a Dragon, so there is arguments to be made that Falin is different and that she *might* have an extended lifespan, all I'm saying is that there's no solid confirmation of it, it's fine to believe it but going around "correcting" other people saying it's a fact wouldn't be right I don't think, especially if you're saying that in a conversation about Marcille journey of death acceptance.

Death is a touchy subject and everyone is at different stages of their own journeys with it so I really don't want to judge those who would rather have Falin or even Laios live longer. I'm not really sure how to talk about this in the proper way, but I hope I didn't make anyone upset!

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 14

Here were at the penultimate chapter. Just one more chapter to go and I am so proud of this little story. I know I said that yesterday but it is just such a good story.

The final chapter will be up on Friday!

In this we a misunderstanding, Eddie gets advice from his new roommate, Dr. Hughes is a saint.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

*throws cliffhanger at you and runs!*

~

Steve had been to a lot of places when he competed but nothing was quite like London, England.

The city was massive for a start. And ancient in ways America just isn’t. Steve, Wayne, and Robin had book their flight through Gatwick instead of Heathrow to save on money and so they arrived ahead of the athletes. Which game them time to see a bit of the city.

Robin squealed with delight when she got to ride on the top of a double-decker bus.

“The only thing that would make this better is if it was purple and had a third level!” she said excitedly.

Max had introduced Robin to Harry Potter and there was no going back. She was a Ravenclaw of course. And a good portion of her clothes were in blue or silver. There was no way to get the original blue and bronze from the book for love or money, much to her dismay.

Wayne just shook his head. He didn’t veer far from his sports and shows, but he did enjoy a good British mystery. Him and Eddie watched Sherlock. Though, everyone watched Doctor Who religiously every Saturday on Steve’s big screen TV.

They traveled over the London Bridge, the real one and not the Tower Bridge that everyone confuses it to be. It’s a regular suspension bridge. Which Robin thought was lame.

They arrived at their hotel and Steve and Robin went into one room and Wayne went into the other. Once they were showered and changed, they went to go meet Eddie at the airport. They waited by the baggage claim for him to arrive.

They saw a bunch of athletes pile out of security and they jumped up and down trying to find in the crowd.

Wayne spotted him first. He waved his arm in the air. “Eddie!”

Those chocolate button eyes lit up as Eddie heard his name being called. Suddenly Steve and Robin were joining in and calling his name too.

He patted someone on the shoulder and trotted over to the three of them. He gave them all hugs.

“Can you believe it?” Eddie squealed. “The actual fucking Olympics. And all thanks to Stevie here, seeing my potential.”

Steve ducked his head to hide his blush. “I may have recognized your talent, but you’re the one who got you here.”

Eddie looked over his shoulder. “Look, guys. I’d love to stay and chat, but they want us to jump through hoops and shit, so I’ve got to go. But I’ll message you once I get the chance, okay?”

They all nodded and once Eddie got his luggage he was sprinting back to the other athletes.

“Well that was certainly something,” Robin said dryly, pursing her lips together. “I realize that he probably has to check in and stuff, but who was that guy he was chatting with before he noticed us?”

Steve’s stomach twisted as he tried to tell himself he had no claim to Eddie. Eddie was only twenty to his own twenty-six. It was good Eddie was meeting people his own age. Maybe... he gulped hard. Maybe find someone to have a fling with or even...He closed his eyes. He shook his head.

“Steve?” Robin asked breaking into his revery with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been calling your name for a bit there. You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said with a blinding, and blindingly false smile. “Just hard to be here and not be competing, you know?”

Robin and Wayne shared a glance. They really hadn’t thought about that aspect of this trip. They had been so excited to see Eddie in the Olympics that they forgot that had Steve not been hurt last time, he would be with Eddie, getting his badge and room sorted. Instead of here with the family members.

“Sorry, Steve,” Robin murmured. “I feel like such a bad friend now.”

Steve shrugged her off. He looked at his watch. “I think I’m going to call Dr. Hughes.” He walked off in the direction of the exit, leaving behind a hurt Robin and a solemn Wayne.

Once he was out in open air, Steve felt like he could breathe again. The feelings for Eddie plus the weight of not being one of the athletes was just suddenly too much.

He chew on his thumbnail as he dialed Dr. Hughes. “Please pick up. Please pick up.”

“Hello, Steve,” Dr. Hughes said warmly. “I was expecting you to call today for I took the day off to be available to you.”

Steve slumped against the building wall and huffed out a watery laugh. “Am I really that predictable?”

“No, Steve,” Dr. Hughes assured him. “Trauma is that predictable. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, seeing Eddie standing where you stood four years ago. All hopes and dreams and to have them taken away from you so quickly. You’re allowed to grieve that. I’m proud of you for reaching out.”

“It’s just so heartbreaking,” Steve said, fighting back tears. “I thought I could be happy enough for Eddie. But I just want to shake him.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or, you know, kiss him.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to admit to that one. You’ve been pining after that boy for so long, Steve.”

“It’s unethical,” Steve huffed, tilting his head back until it hit the wall behind him. “I’m his coach and I’m six years older. I can’t be lusting over a twenty year old that I have authority over. I don’t want to lose him by being removed as his coach. I think that would devastate us both.”

“That’s certainly true,” he murmured. “But you aren’t his coach right now and it might be a good idea to at least confront those feelings and see where it takes you. You can always find someone else to coach him. Promote Robin. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Steve chuckle was a little watery this time. “Yeah, I don’t doubt it. She’d throw me under a bus if meant getting a fancy coaching jacket.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled back. “Well maybe toss in a bag of corn chips and then she’ll throw you under the bus.”

“Thanks Dr. Hughes,” Steve said, smiling now. “Will it be okay if I call you more during the next two weeks?”

“Fortnight,” Dr. Hughes said in amusement, “the British call two weeks a fortnight. But yes Steve you can call me at any time. Doesn’t matter the time, all right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks again. And hopefully it won’t be too soon.”

“It wouldn’t matter if it was,” Dr. Hughes said gently. “Trauma is like a box with a button in it and a ball rotating around. At first the ball, life if you will, will keeping hitting the button. Over and over again. Then with time, therapy, and good support system the ball gets smaller and starts to ping off the sides and at odd times, often when you least expect it, the ball will hit the button.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Steve whined, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s like in ‘The Emperor’s New Groove’,” Dr. Hughes explained with a chuckle, “when the squirrel pops the balloon and nothing happens but when Kuzco yells Ha! it wakes the panthers. It’s a bit like that.”

“Oh okay,” he said. “I think I get it. Something bad will happen and you think it will trigger it but it doesn’t. Then something you thought you’d be fine with suddenly awakens the sleeping panthers?”

“That’s it exactly,” Dr. Hughes said approvingly. “You get some sleep and maybe a small snack, both will help with the feelings you have.”

“Thanks again,” Steve said and hung up. He looked up to see Wayne and Robin standing a respectful distance away. “Sorry about that, guys.”

“Don’t you be apologizing for being overwhelmed, you hear?” Wayne said dryly. “It’s not your fault we’re a pair of idiots.”

Robin came up and gave him a big hug. “Yeah. We’re really sorry. But you’ve got to tell us when you get these feelings, we can’t read your mind, okay?”

Steve nodded into her arms. “I’ll try to but sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere and I can’t control that.”

“Roger that!” she said with a sniffle. “I’m guessing just now was one of those moments where it just hit you?”

“Yeah,” he said letting out a shuddering breath. “I was watching Eddie laughing with his teammates and it just suddenly became too much.”

“You always were wet, Harrington,” a sneering voice said from behind them. “I just didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Steve turned around slowly. “Billy Hargrove. I was ultimately surprised Jason made it through the trials. Who did you pay off to take the hit in his heat?”

Billy’s sneer grew to a snarl. “You always thought you were better than everyone else, Harrington but look at you now. Crying in an airport.”

“You always were a better liar than you were a swimmer,” Steve scoffed. “Maybe you should run along and leave the winning to the people who know what that looks like.”

“Bitch,” he snapped and stormed off to a rental Jag that was waiting for him on the curb.

~

Eddie would have flopped face first into the mattress but he was pretty sure that if he did, it would collapse under him. His roommate was a guy named Trent York, who also had been his seat partner on the flight over. They had a lot in common. They liked D&D, fantasy movies, and

they both grew up poor.

Alas, Trent not only as straight as an arrow, but was planning on proposing to his girlfriend if he got on the podium for any of his events.

God, he wished he had been able to stick around with Steve and Wayne and Robin. But Steve had been there before and knew how hectic it was when they first landed, right?

Right?

But when he turned around to wave goodbye, Steve had this look. Like Eddie had done something wrong. And as much as he hated to admit it, it took him awhile to figure out why. From Wayne and his friends’ point of view, it looked like he had been flirting with Trent and then hurried to get back to him.

Which had not been the case and he really didn’t want to have have to overexplain to Steve that it wasn’t what it looked like. Eddie already felt like he was pressuring Steve into something he didn’t want to do.

Which he was absolutely not about, at all.

He laid gently on the bed and flopped awkwardly around so that he was face down into the pillow.

Trent, who had gone to the bathroom huff out a startled laugh. “I really don’t want to know, man. Just don’t bring anyone back to the room and I won’t either.”

Eddie mumbled something in reply.

“Sorry I didn’t catch that,” Trent said sitting down on his bed.

Eddie turned his head so that it was no longer smashed into the pillow. “I’m in love with my swimming coach from back home.”

“Ah.”

Trent looked around for a moment and then spotted a folding chair nearby. He grabbed it and set it up next to Eddie. Then sat on it backwards.

“That’s rough shit, Ed,” he said gently. “I can’t imagine what I would do if Lucy was my coach instead of the one of the girls in the club I swim with. Does he know how you feel?”

Eddie sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. “Yeah. And he feels the same. He’s just worried that swimming commission will remove him as my coach and as all the other coaches where I swim are stuck up snobs, they wouldn’t take me on and I’d have to quit again.”

“Ah ha.”

Trent thought for a moment. “There are a couple other options.”

Eddie scoffed. “Like what?”

“Tell them to fuck off?” Trent suggested. “It’s discouraged not forbidden.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Eddie said rolling his eyes. “But he’s got some serious trauma and has anxiety.”

“Who did you say your coach was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Okay,” Trent said, his eyes wide in shock. “I’ll admit that even I would tap that if I was gay. Holy shit. Plus like God tier level skill in the water, too. Yeah. Okay. That certainly makes things harder.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie huffed. “So what were your other suggestions for wooing said God?”

Trent pursed his lips together. “Find a coach willing to teach you? Like maybe go to a different pool. Just don’t give up, okay? You really don’t need this right now when you’re about to compete on the world level.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. “Thanks, Trent.”

“Any time.”

~

Eddie made a huge show of apologizing to Steve about how he flounced off when he should have been more attentive.

Steve laughed. “Eddie, I’m a neurotic mess and you’re human. I’ll okay. I promise.”

The smile that he got in return was blinding. Yeah, okay. He really wanted to kiss those lips. But he was going to wait until after his first meet.

Which was in only twenty minutes.

“Go on!” Steve huffed, shooing the menace away. “You’ll be late and I will not have that over my head.”

Eddie raced off as he shook his head fondly.

“You always did have terrible taste,” Robin said dryly.

Steve pushed her playfully. “Yeah, sure. This coming from Miss ‘Tammy Thompson Doesn’t Sing That Bad’, I don’t believe my taste is any worse than yours.”

Robin cocked her head to the side and then shrugged. “Yeah all right, that’s fair.”

Steve started tapping Robin’s arm. She turned to growl at him, but he pointed at the doors that would lead to the pool.

“What’s Chrissy Cunningham doing lurking outside the pool?” she asked with a frown.

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Steve growled, stalking over to her.

When she saw him coming she let out a startled yelp. That brought Steve up short. She turned to them slowly, like a deer in the headlights.

He leveled Chrissy with his best stern authority glare that he patented with his youth swimming classes. She wilted.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, nervously twisting her fingers together. She looked over at Robin and then blushed. “We’ll need to hurry though.”

She turned on her heel and dashed in the direction of the judges.

“Wait!” Robin cried out as Steve and she hurried after her. “Where are we going?”

Chrissy whirled around and still walking backward said, “The judges need to know that Jason is planting more drugs in Eddie’s locker right now.”

Robin and Steve looked at each other in shock.

“Shit!” they said together and hurried to catch up.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 6

Other Chapters:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: After returning from a press tour in New York, Glen reconnects with Gabby at a local bar where they meet up with their mutual friends, Tanner and Kayla. The evening is full of easy conversation and laughter, and Glen and Gabby share a walk back to her apartment. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and once inside, they share a tender, intimate moment that deepens their connection. In the quiet aftermath, Glen stays the night, and the two of them wake up together the next morning. As they enjoy breakfast, they open up about their families and childhoods. Glen listens attentively, offering support and comfort. The chapter closes with a simple, quiet moment of companionship as they share a calm morning together, setting the stage for what comes next in their growing relationship.

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Alcohol Use, Making Out, Semi-Nudity (People in their underwear), Mentions of Parental Death, Mentions of Trauma related to car accidents.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado

The plane’s wheels hit the tarmac with a gentle thud, and Glen exhaled a relieved breath. The press tour for Twisters had been exhausting, and though he loved his job, there was something about having a few weeks off that helped him relax. He had a few meetings or appearances here or there, but for the most part, he had two weeks to just enjoy some time off before he started filming his next project. The soft hum of the plane’s engines slowly faded as he made his way through the airport, his body feeling the weight of the past week of travel and interviews.

As soon as he stepped outside the terminal, the cool evening air greeted him, and without hesitation, he pulled out his phone, dialed Gabby’s number, and waited for the call to connect.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said when she answered, his voice low and familiar, a hint of excitement in it. “I just landed.”

"Hey," she responded, her voice a little breathless, as though she'd been holding on to the phone for this exact moment. "Welcome back!"

"Thanks. I’m so ready to see you. What are you up to tonight?"

Gabby hesitated, glancing over at Tanner and Kayla, who were chatting at the table. They were at The Backdoor Lounge, a trendy bar a few blocks from her apartment. It had been their usual spot lately, a place to unwind and talk about life. Gabby didn’t want to assume they would be okay with Glen wanting to crash their night, so she muted the phone briefly.

“Hey,” she said, leaning closer to Tanner and Kayla. “Do you guys mind if a friend stops by?”

Tanner raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smile. “Is it Glen?”

Gabby couldn’t help but grin. She nodded. “Yeah, he just landed and wants to see me.”

Kayla let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, tell him to hurry up.”

Gabby laughed and unmuted the call, her heart already racing at the thought of seeing Glen again. 

“Sorry about that,” she said into the phone. “So, Tanner and Kayla are cool with it. I’ll send you the address.”

Glen’s voice was warm, and he smiled as he replied, “Of course, I’ll be there soon.”

Gabby sent the address to him, her excitement building. 

“On my way,” Glen said, before hanging up.

Gabby pocketed her phone, a happy smile on her lips. “He’ll be here soon,” she told Tanner and Kayla.

Kayla winked. “We knew it was only a matter of time.” Tanner chuckled and raised his glass.

Gabby rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at her lips. She felt her pulse quicken with anticipation, eager to spend time with Glen after a week of separation. As she settled back into her seat, she couldn’t help but feel like everything was aligning just the way it should.

Glen pushed open the door to The Backdoor Lounge, the familiar low hum of chatter and clinking glasses washing over him. It didn’t take long for his eyes to scan the room, easily picking out Tanner and Kayla near the back booth. He gave them a nod as he walked toward them, but his gaze immediately shifted when he realized Gabby wasn’t with them.

Tanner, catching his confusion, shot him a knowing grin and nodded toward the bar where Gabby stood. She was waiting for the bartender to notice her, tapping her fingers lightly on the counter, looking perfectly at ease in her surroundings.

Glen smiled to himself, feeling a rush of affection. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Gabby didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The warmth in the voice was unmistakable. She smiled, her heart doing a little flip in her chest, and turned to face him.

The moment their eyes met, her face lit up in that way it always did when she saw him. It was as though all the time and distance between them vanished in an instant. She reached out without thinking, pulling him into a hug, one that was just the right balance of familiarity and affection—not too much to stand out, but enough to make her feel his presence.

Glen returned the hug immediately, enveloping her in his arms and pressing a brief, soft kiss to her cheek. The gesture was warm and intimate, but he pulled away just as quickly, not wanting to linger too long in case any fans had noticed him. His eyes softened as he met her gaze again.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice gentle but full of warmth.

“I’m good,” Gabby replied, her smile still lingering from the hug. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, feeling both giddy and grounded by the simplicity of the moment. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Same here,” Glen said, his eyes brightening. “I missed you.”

Gabby laughed softly, looking at him with a mix of fondness and teasing. “Missed me? You saw me less than a week ago.”

“I know,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it feels like longer. You’ve kind of got me hooked on these little moments.”

Gabby’s smile deepened, feeling her cheeks warm at the compliment. She turned back to the bartender, signaling for a drink. “Well, now that you’re here, I think I’ll have something stronger than water.”

Glen raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “I like the sound of that.”

They shared a knowing look before Glen leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “So, what are we drinking tonight?”

That sounds like a great continuation! Here's how you could transition the scene with Gabby and Glen heading over to join Tanner and Kayla:

After Gabby and Glen ordered their drinks, they made their way over to the table where Tanner and Kayla were waiting. Tanner looked up first, his face lighting up when he saw Glen approaching. He stood and extended a hand with a friendly grin.

“Good to see you, man,” Tanner said as they shook hands, the greeting firm and easy. But before Glen could pull away, Tanner pulled him in for a quick hug, slapping him on the back as they broke apart.

“Good to see you, too,” Glen said, smiling at the warmth of the greeting. 

Next, Glen turned to Kayla, who was sitting next to Tanner, her smile wide as she waved him over.

“You, too,” Glen said, leaning in for a quick hug with her.

Glen pulled back and took the empty seat next to Gabby at the table. Gabby made space for him as he slid onto the barstool, giving him a light smile as she took a sip of her drink. Glen could feel the warmth of her presence beside him, and it was a comfortable feeling. They fell into easy conversation as Tanner and Kayla caught him up on the latest gossip in their lives—nothing too heavy, just the little things that made life feel full.

Glen joined in, joking and laughing along, but as always, his attention kept returning to Gabby. When their eyes met for a brief second, he could see the quiet happiness in her expression. He couldn’t help but smile. Tonight felt right, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

A couple of hours passed, and the lively chatter at the table began to settle. The bar was still buzzing with energy, but it was clear the night was winding down for their group. Tanner and Kayla glanced at each other, then stood up from their seats.

“Alright, we’re gonna head out,” Tanner announced, giving Gabby a friendly smile. “We’ll catch up later, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Gabby agreed, already standing up. “Thanks for a fun night, you guys.”

Kayla gave her a teasing grin. “Yeah, just don’t let him steal you away from us too often,” she added with a wink at Glen.

Glen chuckled. “I’ll try to share her,” he said, the easy camaraderie between them helping put Gabby at ease.

As Tanner and Kayla made their way toward the exit, Tanner turned to Gabby one last time. “Need a ride home, Gab?”

Gabby shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nah, I walked. It’s only a few blocks,” she replied, already feeling the cool evening air starting to settle in as she grabbed her purse.

Before she could finish, Glen spoke up, his voice warm and casual. “I’ll walk her home.”

Gabby turned to him, surprised but pleased. “Are you sure? It’s not far at all.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Glen said with a smile, holding the door open for her. “I don’t mind. We can make it a little night walk.”

Gabby met his gaze and, without hesitation, nodded. “Alright. I’d like that.”

She smiled as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air mixing with the warmth of the quiet buzz of the evening. It was just the two of them now, and the familiarity of being with Glen, the ease of it all, made Gabby feel a little lighter as they began walking down the street together.

As they walked side by side, the evening air cool against their skin, Gabby glanced over at Glen. “So, where’s your car?” she asked, a little curious.

Glen glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I dropped it off at my place earlier when I went home to change. Decided to get an Uber here instead.” He paused, shrugging casually. “I figured I’d probably have more than one drink, so better safe than sorry.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming on her lips. “Smart.”

The two of them walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Gabby broke it again. “How was New York?” she asked, glancing at him. “You were there for press stuff, right?”

“Yeah, a lot of talk shows, some interviews, that kind of thing. It's a lot of repeating the same questions and answers over and over.” He let out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “But it's always nice when I get to meet the fans after the screenings. That’s the best part, really.”

Gabby smiled at the thought of him being appreciated for his work. “I can imagine. How did it go? The movie?”

“Good. Really good. It’s been crazy, but... well, you know how it is.” He shrugged lightly, but she could see the pride in his eyes. “It feels good to have it out there finally. People seem to be really enjoying it.”

Gabby nodded, genuinely happy for him. “You deserve it. You've worked so hard for all of this.”

“Thanks.” He looked over at her, his expression softening. “And how about you? How’s the whole getting settled in Los Angeles thing going?”

Gabby sighed, smiling a little sheepishly. “Well, I’m starting to feel like I’ve got the hang of it. I mean, I’m still figuring things out. Still have some boxes I haven’t unpacked.” She laughed lightly. “But I like it here. Feels like a place I can... breathe.”

Glen nodded in understanding. “I get that. It's a lot at first, but you'll find your rhythm. You already seem to be doing well.”

Gabby looked over at him, the genuine encouragement in his voice making her smile. “I’m trying. I’m lucky I have good friends here, and... well, you. It helps.”

Glen grinned, his eyes flickering with something warm as he glanced down at her. “I’m always happy to be part of the good things.”

As they walked, their conversation shifted effortlessly from one topic to the next. It felt easy, natural—just the two of them, walking together, getting to know each other better, even in the quiet moments.

Gabby unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Glen to follow her into the apartment. The familiar warmth of her space greeted her, but it felt different with him here. She kicked off her shoes by the door, her mind still lingering on their quiet walk as Glen closed the door behind him.

As soon as the lock clicked, Glen turned towards her, a smile tugging at his lips. His eyes softened with something that felt almost private, as though they were the only two people in the world right now.

“You’ve got no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he said softly, his voice low and sincere. He stepped towards her, his hands moving naturally to her waist. His touch was warm, a contrast to the cool air outside.

Gabby’s heart skipped a beat, her chest tightening as she looked up at him. “I missed you too,” she whispered, her words feeling more intimate than she expected.

Before she could say anything else, Glen leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. His lips brushed hers in a tender, slow kiss, his hands gently pulling her closer. It was simple, a soft and sweet moment that felt like the world had slowed down.

But as the seconds passed, the kiss deepened, growing more urgent. Glen’s hands slid up her back, tugging her closer as if he couldn’t quite get close enough. His lips parted and, without thinking, Gabby responded, her own hands reaching up to touch his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath her fingertips.

His kiss deepened further, almost hungry now, as he pulled her in, pressing her body closer to his. 

Glen reluctantly pulled away from her lips, his breath coming in shallow, unsteady breaths. For a moment, his eyes locked on hers, his gaze searching, as if asking for permission without saying the words. But the longing he saw mirrored in her eyes gave him no reason to hold back.

His lips trailed down the side of her jaw, his mouth warm against her skin as he pressed soft kisses along her neck. The feeling of her so close, the absence of her touch for the past week, overwhelmed him in the best way. His hands slipped around her back, pulling her flush against him.

He didn’t want to be this eager, especially so early in their relationship. They hadn’t really discussed intimacy or what they were both comfortable with. He didn’t want to make her feel pressured. But the soft sigh that escaped her lips, the way her hands found their way to the back of his neck, kept him moving.

He pulled away from the kiss, his lips finding the curve of her neck, trailing lower as he kissed her skin gently. The heat between them was undeniable now, but Glen remained cautious, not wanting to cross any lines they hadn’t yet talked about. He pulled back slightly, giving her space, his forehead resting against hers.

Glen pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, but his eyes still filled with desire. “I don’t want to rush anything,” he whispered, his voice low and hesitant. “I just—”

Before he could finish his thought, Gabby reached up and pressed her lips to his, cutting off his words. The kiss was soft, but there was a sense of urgency in it, a silent understanding between them. She pulled back, her hands resting on his chest as she looked up at him with a quiet intensity in her eyes.

“I want this too,” she whispered, her voice thick with sincerity.

His smile was immediate, a sense of relief washing over him, followed by a rush of warmth. He couldn’t help but smile wider as he leaned in to kiss her again, the kiss this time more confident, more certain.

His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her close. With a swift movement, he lifted her into his arms, feeling her body relax against his, the weight of her trust making him feel stronger than ever. He paused, pulling away just enough to look at her, making sure she was okay.

Gabby’s gaze met his, her hands resting on his shoulders, a soft smile playing at her lips. “Bedroom?” she asked, her voice gentle but sure.

A small laugh escaped Glen, his heart beating just a little faster. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little breathless with anticipation.

He began to carry her toward the bedroom, taking careful steps, still holding her close. The connection between them was undeniable, and the energy in the air was electric. Gabby’s arms tightened around his neck, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe.

When they reached the doorway of her bedroom, he paused, looking down at her once more. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice sincere, wanting to make sure this was truly what she wanted.

Gabby nodded, her eyes shining with quiet certainty. “I’m sure.”

With that, Glen stepped into the room, closing the door behind them, as he gently set her down on the bed. The moment felt both tender and charged with the weight of what was to come and they both seemed to know that whatever happened next, they were in this together.

As the quiet intimacy of the moment enveloped them, Glen’s hands gently moved to the hem of Gabby’s shirt. His fingers brushed against her skin as he began to lift it, pausing midway to meet her eyes.

“You good?” he asked softly, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability.

Gabby nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He slid the fabric up and over her head, tossing it gently onto a nearby chair before letting his gaze travel over her. The way he looked at her wasn’t rushed or predatory; it was as though he was taking her in, appreciating her fully. His hands rested lightly on her waist, his thumbs brushing against her skin in soothing circles.

As he began to reach for the button of her jeans, Gabby let out a small, nervous laugh.

“What?” he asked, stopping immediately, his brows knitting with concern.

She shook her head, a playful smile creeping onto her lips. “You’re not real.”

Glen blinked, his expression softening into a bemused smile. “What do you mean?”

Gabby bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before explaining. “I’ve just… I’ve never had a guy check in this much. It’s like you actually care how I’m feeling or something.”

For a moment, Glen just looked at her, his smile widening into something warm and confident. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“Well,” he said, his voice dropping into a smooth, teasing tone, “sounds like you haven’t been with a real man yet.”

Gabby let out a soft laugh, her cheeks flushing as her arms looped around his neck. “Oh, is that what you are?” she teased back, her voice matching his playful tone.

“Guess you’ll have to let me show you,” he murmured, brushing another kiss across her lips, this one slower and deeper. “Then you can tell me.”

As the kiss continued, Glen’s hands moved with deliberate care, helping her out of her jeans and easing her back onto the bed. Every motion was unhurried, his touch reverent, as though he wanted to make sure she felt nothing but safe and cherished in his hands.

“You’re gorgeous, baby,” he whispered against her skin, his voice tinged with awe as his lips trailed softly along her collarbone.

Gabby felt her breath hitch, her fingers threading into his hair as her heart pounded against her ribcage. She didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky, but in that moment, with Glen’s careful attention and steady presence, she felt like the most treasured person in the world.

Glen leaned back slightly, breaking the kiss as his hands moved to the hem of his own shirt. With a quick, fluid motion, he pulled it over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. Gabby couldn’t help but let her gaze wander, taking in the sight of him.

Her breath hitched, and she felt her cheeks warm, but before she could say anything, Glen gave her a small, knowing smile. “What? You staring?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, biting her lip to suppress a grin.

He chuckled softly, his confidence shining through without tipping into arrogance. “Good. I like it when you look at me like that.”

Still holding her gaze, he slid off the bed and reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it with ease. His movements were steady, unhurried, as if he wanted to savor the moment. The sound of the belt sliding free and the soft rustle of denim followed as he kicked off his jeans, leaving him in just a pair of fitted black boxer briefs.

Gabby swallowed hard, her eyes involuntarily drawn to him. “Not fair,” she said with a playful pout, trying to keep her composure despite the butterflies swirling in her stomach.

“Not fair?” Glen asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped closer, his hands resting on the edge of the bed.

“You’re… distracting,” she said with a shy laugh, gesturing toward him.

He smirked, leaning down so they were eye level. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re the most distracting person I’ve ever met.” His voice was low and teasing, but the sincerity in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.

Gabby felt her pulse quicken as Glen climbed back onto the bed, settling beside her. His hands slid gently along her waist, pulling her closer as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the earlier playfulness giving way to tenderness.

She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over his shoulder. “More than okay.”

Glen smiled, brushing his lips across hers in another kiss, one that carried all the unspoken promises of what was to come.

Glen leaned down to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, as though savoring every moment. But just as things started to intensify, he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His hand smoothed along her side, and his gaze met hers with a flicker of concern.

“Gabby,” he started softly, his voice a little husky but steady, “I… don’t have anything with me. No condom or protection. I didn’t plan for this, and I don’t want to assume anything.”

She appreciated his honesty, and the gentle restraint in his words made her chest tighten in a good way. He sat back slightly, giving her space as his thumb brushed against her hip in a soothing motion.

“We can stop,” he said firmly, though the warmth in his eyes didn’t waver. “I mean it. I want this to be about you, not just… the moment.”

Gabby blinked up at him, her mind racing. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the way he was prioritizing her over everything else.

She swallowed and nodded, sitting up slightly against the pillows. “I’m clean,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And… I have an IUD.”

His brows lifted slightly, surprised by her openness, but he stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“But,” she said after a pause, her gaze dropping to her hands resting on his chest, “I’m not sure I’m ready for… that. Bare, I mean. Even if I know you’re clean.”

Glen exhaled softly and nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“I am clean, baby. But I get it,” he said without hesitation, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’ll never push you.” 

The tenderness in his voice made her heart ache in the best way. Gabby smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, slow and grateful. 

“Thank you for being so…” She trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Patient? Responsible? Absolutely crazy about you?” he teased, his smirk returning, though it was softened by the warmth in his tone.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “All of the above.”

Glen chuckled, pulling her closer into his arms, their earlier urgency now replaced with a comforting intimacy. “I’ll always wait for you, Gabby,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re ready, you just tell me.”

Glen leaned back slightly, his hand still resting gently on her side, his thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting rhythm. He gave her a small smile, his eyes warm and full of understanding. “Let me grab us a blanket,” he murmured softly, leaning over to the edge of the bed.

He reached for the throw blanket folded at the foot and pulled it over them, cocooning them both in its warmth. Gabby shifted, curling up against him, her head resting on his shoulder as her arm draped across his chest. Glen adjusted slightly, lying on his back to give her room to nestle closer, his arm naturally wrapping around her and pulling her against him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breaths and the faint hum of the city beyond her window. Glen’s fingers started tracing slow, soothing patterns along her arm, the gesture grounding and intimate without feeling heavy.

“You okay?” he asked after a beat, his voice low and steady.

Gabby tilted her head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving her lips. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “More than okay. Thank you, Glen.”

“For what?” he asked, his brows knitting slightly as his thumb continued its gentle path over her skin.

“For… this. For being patient, for listening, for making me feel safe,” she admitted. “It’s just… really nice.”

Glen’s hand paused briefly before he tilted his head down to press a tender kiss to the top of her hair. “You deserve to feel that way, Gabby. Always.”

She smiled against his chest, letting his words settle over her like the warmth of the blanket they shared. After a moment, she spoke again, her tone lighter this time. “So, tell me more about New York. What was the craziest thing that happened while you were there?”

Glen chuckled softly, the tension from earlier melting into a new rhythm between them. “Oh, that’s easy. The hotel had this wild mix-up, and I ended up getting someone else’s room service—twice. Apparently, someone on the floor above me had a thing for caviar and champagne at midnight. But what about your week?”

Gabby’s voice was soft and steady as she recounted a story about her first few days in Los Angeles. She started to recount her story of getting lost during a walk she had taken.

“And then I got lost on the way to this… uh… this coffee shop I wanted to try,” she murmured, her words slowing as her body relaxed further against Glen. “I ended up walking in circles for like… twenty minutes…” Her sentence trailed off, her voice growing faint as her head rested more heavily against his chest. 

Glen glanced down, his lips twitching into a gentle smile as he watched her fight the sleep creeping in. Her fingers, which had been lightly tracing absent shapes on his chest, had stilled completely.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Glen asked softly, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Mm, no,” she protested weakly, her words slurred. Her eyelids fluttered open for a brief moment before closing again.

Glen chuckled, his hand brushing lightly over her arm. “Gabby, get some sleep.”

She shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent before tilting her head up just enough to murmur, “Are you gonna stay?”

The question caught him off guard for a split second, and he paused, considering her words. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly, his voice steady and warm.

She nodded sleepily, her forehead brushing against his collarbone. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Glen’s heart softened at the vulnerability in her answer, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “Then I’ll stay,” he said quietly, his tone firm with reassurance.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, and she nestled closer to him, her body molding perfectly against his side.

“Sweet dreams, Gabby,” Glen urged softly, his hand resuming its slow, soothing path along her arm.

This time, she didn’t resist. Her breathing evened out within moments, and Glen stayed exactly where he was, holding her close and watching over her as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

* * * *

Gabby stirred as the sound of a phone ringing cut through the quiet of the morning. Her mind was groggy, and it took her a moment to register that it wasn’t her phone. She blinked her eyes open, noticing the faint light filtering through the curtains and the cozy warmth against her back. Glen’s chest was pressed to her, his arm loosely draped over her waist, holding her close in their sleep.

Glen groaned behind her, his voice still husky with sleep. "Ugh... who’s calling this early?"

Gabby turned her head slightly to glance at him, her voice soft. "Maybe you should check?"

He let out a resigned sigh, his arm slipping away as he rolled onto his back and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. Squinting at the screen, he groaned again, this time more dramatically.

Before Gabby could ask any questions, Glen slid his thumb across the screen to answer. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice laced with sleepy affection.

Gabby, suddenly aware of their intimate position, turned onto her back and pulled the blanket higher around her, a small smile playing on her lips as she listened to his side of the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m up,” Glen said, rubbing his hand over his face as he spoke. “What’s up?”

There was a pause, and Gabby noticed his lips twitch into a small smile. 

“No, just at a friend’s place,” he said vaguely, his gaze flickering toward her for a brief second before he looked away again, clearly trying to avoid letting anything slip. Another pause, and then he let out a quiet laugh. “No, nothing like that. I just needed a change of scenery.”

Gabby bit her lip, trying not to smile at his attempts to sidestep his mom’s curiosity.

“Listen, Mom, I’ll call you back later, okay?” Glen said after a moment, his tone affectionate but firm. “Yeah, I promise. Love you too.”

Glen ended the call and let his phone drop onto the pillow beside him. He tilted his head to look at Gabby, who was watching him with a bemused expression.

“Your mom sounds sweet,” she teased, propping herself up on her elbow.

“She is,” Glen said with a faint smile. “But sweet and nosy aren’t mutually exclusive when it comes to her.” He shifted onto his side again, propping his head on his hand as he looked at her. “Sorry for the wake-up call.”

“I don’t mind,” Gabby replied, her voice warm. “It was worth it to see you squirm a little.”

He chuckled, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Oh, you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe just a little,” she admitted, her eyes sparkling.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “What do you say I make us breakfast to make up for it?”

Gabby laughed as she sat up, wrapping the blanket around herself. “Alright, show me what you’ve got, Mr. Movie Star.”

Glen sat up and then got out of bed. He stood at the edge of the bed, pulling his jeans back on and fastening his belt. The soft fabric of the white undershirt he’d worn the night before stretched over his torso, clinging just enough to remind Gabby of how unfairly good he looked even in the simplest clothing.

“You’re staring,” Glen teased, catching her gaze as he straightened up.

“Am not,” Gabby shot back with a playful smirk, slipping out of bed herself. She grabbed a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of leggings from her closet, quickly pulling them on before turning to face him. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Glen chuckled, his voice warm as he motioned toward the door. “Come on. Let’s see what kind of breakfast magic I can whip up in your kitchen.”

“Magic, huh?” Gabby replied as she followed him out of the bedroom.

They made their way to the kitchen, the early morning light filtering through the windows and casting a soft glow on the small space. Gabby slid onto one of the stools at the island, tucking her legs beneath her as she watched Glen take in his surroundings. He stepped toward the fridge, opening it and scanning its contents with a thoughtful expression.

“Let’s see...” he murmured, rummaging around. “Eggs, butter... and not much else.”

“I don’t really do breakfast,” Gabby admitted, resting her chin in her palm.

“Clearly,” Glen said with a grin, moving to inspect the cupboards. “But you do have bread. Eggs and toast it is.”

“Fancy,” she teased.

“Hey, don’t underestimate the classics,” he shot back, grabbing the carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. He set them on the counter before opening another cupboard in search of a pan. Gabby watched him move around the kitchen, his ease and confidence making her smile.

“You look way too comfortable in my kitchen,” she remarked.

Glen glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What can I say? I’m a natural. Now, do you have a toaster, or am I going to have to MacGyver this?”

Gabby laughed, leaning forward to point to a cabinet. “Top shelf. And there’s a frying pan in the drawer under the stove.”

“Thanks,” Glen said, retrieving the toaster and pan.

She rolled her eyes, but her grin didn’t falter as she watched him plug in the toaster and set the bread aside. A comfortable silence fell between them as he cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, the sizzle filling the kitchen. His movements were fluid and precise, and Gabby found herself mesmerized by the simple act of him cooking.

“Do you cook often?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Whenever I have time,” Glen replied, glancing at her. “It’s nice to do something simple every now and then, you know? Plus, I enjoy getting to do it when I can.”

Gabby rested her chin in her hand again, a soft smile on her lips. For someone she’d only been seeing for a week officially and only known for a few weeks before that, Glen already felt like he belonged in her space, like he fit perfectly into the rhythm of her life. The thought was both comforting and a little terrifying, but she chose to focus on the comforting part for now.

When the toast popped up, Glen plated it alongside the eggs and set the dish in front of her with a mock bow. “Your breakfast, m’lady.”

“Why, thank you,” Gabby said with exaggerated politeness, taking a bite. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Okay, I’ll admit it—this is actually really good.”

“I told you I’m a natural,” Glen said, leaning against the counter with a smug grin.

Glen slid onto the stool next to Gabby, his plate in hand, and set it down on the island. Their elbows brushed as he settled in, but neither of them moved away. Gabby couldn’t help but smile as they started eating, the warmth of the morning and his presence making her feel unusually light.

“So,” she said between bites, “do you always cook breakfast for women you’ve only dated for a week?”

Glen smirked, taking a bite of his toast. “Only the ones who let me spend the night.”

Their laughter filled the small kitchen, the kind that came effortlessly when two people were completely at ease with each other. Glen glanced at her, his smile softening as he leaned back slightly on his stool.

“This is nice,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter. “I don’t remember the last time I just sat and had breakfast with someone like this.”

Gabby tilted her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“My life lately has been go, go, go,” he explained, gesturing vaguely with his fork. “Mornings are usually rushed, grabbing a bagel and coffee and eating it in the car on the way to the first appearance of the day. There hasn’t been a lot of time for, you know, this. Just sitting, talking.”

Gabby nodded, taking another bite of her eggs. “I get that. Life in L.A. can be the same way. Everyone’s always in a rush to get somewhere or do something. But growing up, my family made a point of sitting down for meals together. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—you name it.”

“That sounds nice,” Glen said, his tone thoughtful.

She looked at him curiously. “What’s your family like?”

Glen smiled, a mix of fondness and amusement crossing his face. “Chaotic, mostly. I have two sisters, so our house was always loud. Someone was always yelling, singing, that kind of thing. My mom used to say we were the reasons she started getting gray hair so young.”

Gabby laughed, picturing a younger Glen in the middle of the chaos. “I can see that. So, you’re the youngest? The baby of the family?”

Glen shook his head. “Middle child. Lauren is older than me, and then Leslies younger than me.”

“Ah, the only boy and the middle child. So you’re the forgotten child.” Gabby smirked.

“Nope,” Glen said, popping the “p” as he grinned. “Hard to get forgotten when you’re the favorite.”

“Oh, you were the favorite, huh?” Gabby teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Glen said with mock seriousness. “Just don’t tell my sisters I said that. They’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Gabby shook her head, laughing softly. “You sound like you had a fun childhood.”

“Yeah, I did,” he admitted, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. “My mom’s the heart of the family, though. She kept us all together, even when my dad was busy with work. She’s the kind of mom who would pack our lunches with little notes in them, even when we were in high school.”

Gabby’s smile softened. “She sounds wonderful.”

“She is,” Glen said, his expression warm. “What about your family? You said you guys always ate meals together. Were you close?”

Gabby smiled softly as she set her fork down, leaning back slightly against the stool. “Growing up as an only child was... quiet, I guess,” she said. “It was just me, my mom, and my dad. They always made time for me, though. Family dinners, movie nights, board games—I think they wanted to make sure I didn’t feel lonely, since I didn’t have siblings.”

Glen nodded as he finished a bite of his toast. “Sounds like they were great parents.”

“They were,” Gabby said, her smile widening at the memory. “My mom was the kind of person who could light up a room just by walking into it. She was funny, warm, and always had this way of making people feel seen, you know? And my dad... he’s quieter, more reserved, but he’s the most dependable person I know. He’d move mountains for the people he loves.”

Glen listened intently, his eyes fixed on her as she spoke. There was a light in her expression, a glow when she talked about her family.

“It sounds like they raised you right,” Glen said, his voice gentle.

Gabby chuckled softly. “I like to think so. I mean, they had their moments. My mom could be overprotective, and my dad... well, he’d let me get away with things if I batted my eyelashes at him just right. But they balanced each other out.” Her words hung in the air for a moment, and without thinking, she added, “Now it’s just me and my dad.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Gabby froze. Her breath caught, and her eyes widened slightly as if she could somehow pull the words back. She hadn’t meant to say that—not to Glen, not to anyone. Talking about her mom wasn’t something she did often, not because she didn’t think about her but because it was too painful to relive.

Glen caught the brief flicker of hesitation in her expression. He set his fork down and leaned slightly closer, his tone soft but careful. “Gabby?”

Her gaze dropped to the plate in front of her, and she swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to say it out loud, to explain something so deeply personal. But when she glanced at Glen, his expression wasn’t prying or demanding. He was just... there. Gentle.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” Glen added quickly, sensing her hesitation. “I get it. No pressure.”

Gabby took a deep breath, her fingers playing with the edge of her napkin. “No, it’s okay,” she said quietly, though her voice trembled slightly. “It’s just... I don’t usually talk about her. About what happened.”

Glen didn’t say anything, just gave her the space she needed. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against her knee. The small touch was grounding, reassuring.

“She died when I was nineteen,” Gabby began, her voice just above a whisper. “She was on her way home from work. It was late, and... and a drunk driver ran a red light. He hit her car and killed her instantly.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Gabby could feel the tightness in her chest as the memories surfaced. She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry.

Glen’s hand moved to her back, his palm warm and steady as he rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades. 

“Gabby, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his voice thick with genuine empathy.

“It was so sudden,” Gabby continued, her gaze distant now. “One minute, she was there, and the next... she wasn’t. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. Glen’s hand never stopped its soothing motion on her back, his presence grounding her in the moment.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been,” Glen said after a moment. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Gabby glanced at him, her lips trembling as she tried to muster a small smile. “It’s been years, but some days it still feels fresh, like it just happened. My dad and I... we’ve learned to manage, but there’s always this... hole, you know?”

Glen nodded, his hand slipping from her back to cover hers on the counter. “Yeah. A loss like that doesn’t just go away. But it sounds like you and your dad have each other, and that’s something.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening slightly under his. “We do. He’s been amazing, honestly. I don’t know how he held it together for me when I know he was hurting just as much.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a pretty incredible dad,” Glen said, offering her a soft smile.

“I do,” Gabby agreed, her voice steadier now. “I’m lucky to have him.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. If anything, it felt safe—like Gabby had shared something she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying for too long, and Glen had handled it with the kind of care she hadn’t expected.

Glen squeezed her hand gently. “Thanks for telling me,” he said softly.

Gabby looked at him, her eyes meeting his. “Thanks for listening.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “Anytime.”

Gabby felt a small warmth spread through her chest, the heaviness from earlier lifting slightly. It wasn’t often she opened up about her mom, but somehow, with Glen, it felt... okay.

Gabby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she sat back in her stool. Glen’s hand lingered on hers for a moment longer before he pulled back, reaching for his fork again. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward—it was comforting, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

She glanced at him as he took another bite of his eggs, his easy smile still in place, and felt a wave of gratitude. Somehow, Glen had a way of making her feel safe, like there was no judgment, no rush. Just understanding.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she said softly, picking up her own fork to finish the last few bites on her plate.

“Thanks for letting me raid your kitchen,” Glen replied with a grin, glancing over at her. “Not bad for throwing together what you had, huh?”

“Not bad at all,” she said with a small smile, her tone teasing. “I might have to keep you around if it means I don’t have to cook.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head. “Careful, Gabby. You keep complimenting me like that, and I might start getting a big head.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but the warmth in her expression lingered. “Oh, you think you don’t  already?”

The two of them laughed, and Gabby felt the heaviness of their earlier conversation continue to lift. By the time they’d finished eating, her plate was clean, and her mood had lightened.

Glen stood first, collecting their plates and carrying them to the sink. 

“Let me take care of this,” he said when she moved to follow.

“You don’t have to—”

“Sit,” he interrupted gently, turning to give her a look that brooked no argument. “You let me stay the night and provided the food. Let me do this part.”

Gabby sat back down with a small shake of her head, watching as he rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. The domesticity of the moment wasn’t lost on her, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

When Glen turned back around, wiping his hands on a towel, he caught the look on her face. “What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” she said, shrugging lightly. “I just... It’s been a long time since I’ve had a morning like this.”

“Like what?”

“Just... easy,” she said, gesturing between them. “Good conversation, good company. It’s nice.”

Glen’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, leaning his hands on the counter across from her. “I’d say the same,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the quiet intimacy of the morning wrapping around them like a blanket. Gabby felt her cheeks warm slightly, but she didn’t look away.

Eventually, Glen straightened and checked the time on his phone. “Well,” he said, his tone light, “I should probably get going before your neighbors start wondering who the guy in last night’s jeans is.”

Gabby laughed, rolling her eyes. “Pretty sure my neighbors have better things to do than spy on me.”

“Still,” Glen said, grabbing his jacket from where he’d draped it over a chair, “I should head out. But...” He paused, glancing at her, his expression suddenly serious. “Thanks for letting me stay last night. For letting me... be here. I mean it.”

Gabby nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Thanks for staying.”

Glen hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but instead, he leaned down and pressed a quick, warm kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft.

And with that, he headed for the door, leaving Gabby standing in the kitchen with a smile on her face and a warmth in her chest that hadn’t been there before.

[javiersprincess]

𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝚬𝐓𝐓𝚬 𝐒𝐌𝚶𝐊𝚬 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝚬𝐒𝐈𝐑𝚬𝐒.

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ synopsis: Javier adores flaunting you, especially to John.

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ tags : 18+ minors dni, established relationship, fem reader, smoking, m!receiving oral. exhibitonism, weird dynamics, talk of sharing. everyone is bisexual. Set in between chapter 3 and 4. - let me know if i missed something

It’s not unusual to get a glimpse of John heading to the edge of camp to smoke in solitude. Everyone at camp desires for moments of pure quiet and calm, only for themselves and many respect that. John is thankful for this accepted rule and breathes deeply from his cigarette as he stares into the bright dark of the night. The moon is full and gleaming like the silver off a woman’s necklace he stole earlier today and John chooses to send that thought away with each puff from his cigarette.

His quiet contemplation is interrupted by the sound of footsteps when he turns John welcomes who it is - Javier and…you. John raises a brow at your presence after giving you a brief hello, eying your cream colored blouse and soft mauve skirt. You look every bit of a sensible young lady, it’s hard to imagine you living hard and rough like they all do but here are you ; raising your eyes to give him a soft smile with a wave at his greeting. His attention drifting from you to Javier who’s hands are busy with his own cigaretttes, they are the fancy kind made beforehand and ready to be smoked at one’s leisure. John and Javier talk to themselves (mostly about how much John got those Braithwaite horses to sell), all you do is sit quietly on the rock that Javier has settled next to while his cigarette end burns orange like the sun in the humid night. The rock is the perfect height to level you to Javier’s hips, and you sit so close to him that John can notice the way you rest your cheek on his lower half. The soft roundness of your face is pressed against his leg as your slow blink makes his question whether or not you are about to fall asleep.

“She usually this tired at this time of night?” John asks, blowing away smoke so it wouldn’t permeate near your face. Javier hums, turning to give you a glance with something soft in his eyes. Something softer than that of what John has ever seen as Javier lifts a gloved hand to carefully brush some hair from your face.

“She’s been going in and out of the city for the past few weeks, trying to get supplies and pick up any leads,” Javier explains with so much pride in his voice it’s all John can hear. He merely hums, bringing his cigarette to his lips to take a drag while looking at you considerably.

“Guess that explains why I haven’t seen her around camp as much,” He comments around the taste of tobacco as he recalls that there has been a drop of how much he has seen you around the camp. The conversation continues from there on, John lulled by the calm comfort Javier brings. So much so he doesn’t notice how your head lifts, eyes lidded not by sleep but with something else - something that eats at the pretty color of your irises, your pupil consumes the color completely. What John does notice is the sound of a belt clinking, dark eyes flickering from Javier’s face to you and he balks the sight.

You, on your knees with your hands in Javier’s pants, with lips parted and eyes lidded until his cock was pulled free. John couldn’t help but swallow at the sight of your hand hardly being able to wrap around it. Dark eyes watch as something hot grows in his stomach with the way you press dainty kisses on the shaft, you eyes fully shut as you lose yourself in pleasing him. John’s mouth dries as it drops as he watches you - sensible, meticulous and put together you (you even spread out your skirt to avoid getting grass stains on it) take the head of Javier’s cock in your sweet mouth.

“You want to watch John?” Javier’s voice cuts through the spell you put on and John swallows at the question. His eyes flicker up to Javier’s face and finds it smug with something dark in his eyes. Javier’s hand goes to your hair, gripping the braid you put your hair in for sleep and wrapping it around his fist. He coos at you - calls you a pet name in Spanish that is doused in affection that makes you keen with glassy eyes and gripping his denim covered thighs.

“Jesus,” John’s voice breaks, thick with lust and cigarette smoke.

“She wants you to watch,” Javier says voice growing breathless as you take more of him into your throat, gagging slightly with each inch. He brings his cigarette to take a drag and the way the smoke clouds around him is artful. John swallows and takes a drag of his owns, gray eyes stormy as he watches how dutifully you suck on Javier’s cock, moaning while nearing down the base with spit dripping down to your chin.

“Why the hell does she want something like that?” John hisses, throwing and stomping it out the burning end his eyes watching how you let go - how Javier uses your hair in his grip to fuck himself in and out of your mouth. Your pretty face is flushed and wet, spit going do to your tits, soaking your chemise and tears going down your neck. Javier laughs around his hiss of pleasure, turning to gaze at John’s flushed face before taking one last and deep breath from his cigarette.

“It’s her reward. She’s been working hard, I want to indulge her.” Javier says, voice rough with smoke and lust. It makes something in John shiver as he watches the fondness with which Javier gazes at you, he’s seen that look on his friend’s face around camp but to see it even now, makes his pants feel tighter than the did before.

“She always have funny thoughts like this?” John asks swallowing around his words as he steps closer to where Javier stands, until he is right next to him, shoulder to shoulder. John watches you, sees the looks of absolute debauched peace on your face while your mouth is used and fucked. He thinks about how you would look giving his cock the same attention, and he breaks into a cold sweat at the image of you looking up at him with hearts in your eyes and your ruined mouth. The man asked merely hums, pushing your head down until your nose is pressed against the thatch of dark hair on his pelvis.

“Sometimes, some include you and I don’t mind making them come true when she earns them.” Javier explains, voice surprisingly measured despite how he grunts - nearing his end. Javier cums with a quiet grunt, gripping your hair hard enough to make you whine as you swallow all that Javier gives you. The Mexican man shivers and pulls himself away from the heat of your mouth as he rubs the back of your head in a tender apology. John curses at how Javier’s cock - wet and messy rests on your lips at you kiss the weeping slit until Javier pulls away from you completely. He calls his name and John’s heart skips a beat at the grin on his friend’s face.

“So, want a turn?” Between your pleading looks and Javier’s charming grin - John Marston really couldn’t bring himself to say no that night. He can never say no to cigarettes or to either one of you.