#this was done on my phone so I prefer to keep it bite sized

[queenburd]

So like I was gonna do more with this and I might later but right now it’s bite sized and pleasant, it’s nicely self contained, so here’s a TSP fic about the narrator being indecisive about making himself a character model.

—

[ I have a question. ] Stanley posits to no one in particular.

He is standing in the room with two doors, quietly considering. As it is his choice, the narrator is quiet here, and allowing him the privacy of his own head. Mustn’t spoil which route Stanley wants to take for himself, he’s said before. Keeps the fellow on his toes.

(Toes. Ha. How relevant.)

“Yes, Stanley?” The narrator prompts him with friendly curiosity. At one point he may have asked with impatience, an effort to keep him moving, but they’ve done every route so many times that sometimes, it’s more fun to take their time. Stop and smell the roses. “What’s on your mind?”

Stanley—fidgets. It isn’t like him, to fidget, or hesitate. When he finally signs again, after a long consideration, it’s clear he’s chosen every word very carefully.

[ It’s probably a silly question. Is that okay? ]

“Well, Stanley, you are a silly person, so I expect nothing less.”

He scowls at the ceiling, scrunching his nose at the tease. There’s no heat in it, of course.

There’s such a… gentleness, to their relationship, these days. For two entities designed to be in conflict, they’ve somehow found a way to meet in the middle, and find the places where they disagree as ways to appreciate each other. It’s hard, having to deal with someone else’s perspective when they think so differently from you.

But it’s good. It’s nice.

“Go on, then. I will reserve my judgement on the silliness of your question for after I hear it.” Stanley snorts.

He looks at his hands. Releases a puff of breath.

[ Do you have a body? ]

There is no response, but this is fine, because Stanley continues, nothing but genuine curiosity behind his thoughts. There is no motive, no craving. Just simple questions.

[ I usually think you don’t, but sometimes you sigh, or cry or clear your throat, or just do things that imply more than just audio. People have lungs and stuff, to make those noises. But I know you’re not human. But do you have a character model somewhere, like mine? ]

“Um. Er,” is the uncertain reply. The fellow sounds caught off guard, a little sheepish. “I… no. I don’t.”

[ oh. Okay. ]

Stanley isn’t disappointed, not really. Okay, perhaps a touch. But not enough to be properly bothered.

“Wh— is that it? No followup?”

He shakes his head.

“Is it a problem that I don’t have one? I’d never thought to—good lord, can you imagine?”

Stanley shakes his head again, then considers it, and lifts a hand, seesawing it vaguely.

It isn’t a problem, per se, that the narrator isn’t a physical being. It’s simply—

[ Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch. We’re not human though, so I don’t need it. It’s like the sleep thing. ]

“Hm.”

The narrator sounds contemplative, learning something new. Stanley fidgets again.

[ I was just curious. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. ]

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” the tone is dismissive, distracted. It stings a bit, but it’s probably for the best. The last thing Stanley wants is to make them stew in an uncomfortable atmosphere. The pair of them should move on.

It’s honestly fine that Stanley’s never had interaction with another person. Or. Well. He thinks it is. It doesn’t bother him frequently. He ISN’T human, so he isn’t about to go mad without it.

There have been times where he really really wished, needed, craved comfort—mostly in the worst moments when the both of them were affected. The aftermath of the Skip Button ending is the most obvious.

But the narrator’s voice has become its own kind of presence. It can rest on his shoulders like a weighted blanket does, grounding him and soothing him, easily as intimate as a hug.

So there’s no real loss here. Stanley can’t miss something he’s never had. It’s honestly okay.

“Er, Stanley?”

Right. Doors. Stanley crosses his arms and considers them.

“The door on the left, you know the drill.”

Mm. No, he thinks he’ll take the door on the right. The lounge is calling his name, singing sweetly with its serene blue and photos. Then maybe he’ll play a different game behind a blue door.

There’s a little grumble that follows him when he heads to the right. Stanley smiles, gives a cheeky wink.

—

The narrator—ponders.

He doesn’t do it frequently; he finds he doesn’t like to. It’s quite easy for him to get stuck thinking about one little thing, one tiny detail, capturing all his attention until he comes back to himself and finds hours have passed and Stanley is sitting against a doorframe trying to entertain himself with a whiteboard and marker, having long since given up trying to capture his attention.

Pondering is not… good for him, the narrator thinks.

But, as he is prone to do, he catches himself going back to a moment, looking it over again and again, trying to glean something new.

Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch.

Do you have a body?

The narrator is a voice. He is a part of the parable, he is a mechanism. But then, Stanley is a mechanism of the parable as well; a vessel for a player.

It isn’t the same. They are intrinsically different. But do they have to be?

The narrator is and is not the world; he is and is not the halls, the doors, the very air itself. He controls it, it controls him. He has access to its assets; it has access to his mind.

He wonders if this is how humans feel about their own bodies. Both in control, and plagued by limitations.

Oh, for goodness’s sake, he’s doing it again. Going off on an inexplicable contemplation of the nature of humanity, existence and choice. Honestly, sometimes even the narrator doesn’t know what he’s on about.

The narrator doesn’t have a body. He doesn’t need a body.

Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch.

Would…

Would Stanley prefer it if he had a body?

I don’t need it.

He thinks on the hesitation in Stanley’s fingers. He wonders what it would be like to squeeze them.

Textures. Temperatures. Softness, firmness, sharpness. Scents, tastes.

Senses he knows about in theory. He has no frame of reference.

Would it be that difficult to make himself a character model? He has assets hidden in the code of the game, models he can edit, tweak, piece together to make something new.

Oh, but how could he choose the right features? How could he know when it’s really him?

And—oh no—what if Stanley dislikes it?

The narrator knows himself, he knows that if he wants to do something he commits to it until he thinks it’s perfect. He won’t settle for less. He’d put his heart and soul into it.

If he put all that work into a model, and Stanley didn’t like it?

He doesn’t think he’d take it very well.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do.

—

“When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he—would you at least be so kind as to let me finish?” The voice berates Stanley as he swerves right without pause. Stanley doesn’t even roll his eyes.

He’s going to go see the lights.

There’s a nervous clearing of the throat. “S-Stanley was so bad at following directions—“

Spare him, please. He understands the needed script, but it grates a bit this time. Stanley balances on the edge of the platform, a hand around the support rail, timing his jump.

“Look, Stanley—“

Not his enemy. No, they’re not enemies. In fact, Stanley would go so far as to call the fellow his dear friend. It’s why he’s doing this.

This is not an act of cruelty. He knows the fear it strikes into the narrator, and in honesty Stanley cannot blame him. The number of times the protagonist has gone down this route just to find a different exit, all in vain, is not a high value, but it’s still too many.

There are only two ways out of the room behind the red door. One is in the narrator’s power, if he can overcome his own nature to use it. The other is in Stanley’s power, and makes them both miserable.

It’s not ideal. And it’s so frustrating, because this place really is beautiful. It really is up there as one of Stanley’s favorites.

Clearly anxious, but trying to keep his composure, the narrator loads the map into the starry dome. In the instant Stanley steps into the room, all the panic falls away, into an easy bliss.

“Oh…”

Stanley walks to the center of the platform and sits. He crosses his legs, craning his head up to watch the lights.

The narrator is quiet, but his flood of real peace is palpable. This is one of the places he seems most open. Most willing to relax.

Usually, that can be a danger after too long. He ends up stopping, never progressing forward, unwilling to move. That’s not a life.

But they’ve compromised on so many things. This is one of those things too.

[ I’m going to stay a while ], Stanley offers in the dark, knowing he will be seen. [ You’ve been preoccupied for a bit. Do you want to talk about it? ]

“I—“

The voice cuts itself off, clearly surprised, the anxiety slipping back in.

[ It’s okay if you don’t. I thought being here might help you deal with whatever’s going on. I’ll wait as long as you need. ]

—

To say the narrator is embarrassed is putting it mildly.

He feels caught red handed, even though he hasn’t even done anything.

“Am I really so obvious?” He grumbles, more to himself than to Stanley. The man grins anyway.

[ I know you. I pay attention. ]

“Hmph. That’s debatable,” he grouses. Still, Stanley was wise to come to this place to prod him. He’s much more at ease here. A little less ashamed, afraid, overwhelmed.

[ Like I said. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ll stay here while you sort out whatever’s been bothering you. This way you don’t have to be distracted by the narration. ]

He’s being…. Kind. So kind, to a person who used to be his enemy, his jailer. How has the narrator been so fortunate to have a Stanley that is so exceedingly good? He knows he certainly hasn’t been a fine example in the past.

He sighs. Stanley lays back, hands behind his head on the floor. It can’t be comfortable, on the metal grating. The narrator gives a small noise of warning, before he changes the texture pattern on the dark floor to the rug he’s saved for the Bottom of the Mind Control Facility Bucket ending. It’s a bit more comfortable than the carpet in the office.

It catches Stanley off guard a little, and the narrator chuckles as he shakes his head at the sudden change, like a wet dog shaking off water. But he settles back with a smile.

“If you intend to be there a while, you may as well be comfortable.”

It’s just… so easy. To be with Stanley. To do things for him. To try to make him smile. Like it’s innate. It wasn’t always. But he’s changed. The both of them have.

They look at the lights for a bit. The narrator feels himself relax. Like he’s floating. Like he is one of the lights, going up, down, changing slowly, unhurried and unconcerned.

Why has he been so worried?

It takes him a long minute to realize he wasn’t the one who had wondered that.

Stanley waits for him. Stanley doesn’t demand anything from him. Stanley’s intentions are entirely devoid of deceit or manipulation.

It makes this… easier.

“I…”

But not completely.

“I’ve been thinking. About making something new. I haven’t decided if I should do it, because, well—I worry you won’t like it.”

Stanley’s eyes are closed, but he’s awake. He’s listening.

The narrator is being very careful with his words. It’s been at least fifty runs since Stanley asked him about a model, so he knows at least that it doesn’t occur to the protagonist that this is related.

No, Stanley is wondering if the narrator has been considering new endings. Why wouldn’t he like the new endings? They aren’t ones where he dies painfully and miserably, are they?

The narrator chuckles good-naturedly, suddenly far more at ease. “No, Stanley. No cruel twists of fate that leave you mad or dead, that much I can assure you.”

Okay. Then Stanley isn’t sure why he wouldn’t like whatever the narrator makes for him, if it comes from some place genuine.

It leaves him a little tongue-tied. The narrator hears himself swallow, without a throat.

“It’s not that simple.”

Why not?

“Because…”

Because he doesn’t just want Stanley to like it. He doesn’t want Stanley to be happy because it’s a new thing.

He wants Stanley to like him. He wants to make this thing himself, the way humans shape their bodies to fit the way they picture themselves in their heads, and he wants Stanley to like what he sees.

It would be him. It would be his. And if Stanley was just neutral about it, or just didn’t like how he looked, then—

Oh, he couldn’t bear it. It would hurt him irrevocably. He’d throw it into the deepest pit of code and never think about it again.

“I… I think, if I did try to make this, this idea I’m considering, a reality, well—you know I don’t do things halfway. I’d be so—it needs to be perfect, do you understand? And if I spend all this time on it, only for you to, to—“

To treat it like his story.

“—yes! Exactly! Oh, Stanley, this is for you, it’s all for you. I just want to make something for you that you’ll care about, and appreciate.”

(And love, he is certain not to say. There’s no need to attach such words to this idea yet, that’s a little too dangerous.)

Stanley is very quiet. He’s thinking, but he’s thinking in that way where he wants to be certain with his words, so the narrator gives him his privacy. The narrator looks at the lights. He lets himself relax again.

He can feel Stanley’s tender heart. His compassion. Stanley cares deeply for him, can see how much it matters to him.

A desire fills the protagonist, an intense longing he can’t bury, hard as he tries. The voice can’t help peeking at it, not when it’s bubbling over like a boiling pot against a lid.

More than anything, Stanley wishes he could hug the fellow.

He must make some noise of surprise, because Stanley’s demeanor changes instantly to one of embarrassment and trying to recontextualize.

He wants to comfort the narrator! He doesn’t mean to make it weird! He just wishes he was able to provide the fellow a physical sort of validation!

The narrator feels more than sees Stanley’s face flushing all the way to his ears. He can’t help laughing, not at the man necessarily, not even meaning it at his expense. It’s just…

It’s a little adorable?

Stanley’s embarrassment only grows. Welp. Moment ruined. Time to go throw himself off the stairs.

“Absolutely not!” The laughter dies instantly, turning to an angry sort of panic. Stanley flinches.

Right. Not a funny joke when it’s here.

The narrator inhales deeply. “God, you gave me a fright.”

He can feel the genuine remorse radiating off his friend. Forgives him immediately.

“It’s—it’s alright. Slip of the tongue, as they say.”

Well, Stanley can’t talk, but, yeah. They both are on the same page.

“In any case. Thank you for listening. I… I think I will try, actually. I honestly appreciate your… your sentiment.”

The narrator can hear the smile in his voice. Yes, he’s going to go through with this. He’s certain now.

Because Stanley wants to hug him. And that in itself has erased all his doubts.

Still.

“Can we… stay here, for a little longer?”

He’ll reset. He will. Stanley doesn’t need to hurt himself. It’s just…

It’s so peaceful here.

Stanley shoots a thumbs up at the ceiling, towards the lights. The narrator relaxes again. Tries to imagine himself laying besides Stanley. Looking up with him. He wants it more than anything.

“Thank you, Stanley. I… thank you.”

Soon.

[trendywaifus]

2024 HALLOWEEN SPECIAL MASTERLIST

❝ WHAT’S YOUR SCARY MOVIE? ❞

WARNINGS — DARK THEMES, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ATTEMPT OF SELF INJURY, DEATH, BLOOD, CONTROLLING BEHAVIOR, INJURY, YANDERE THEMES, DUBCON, PURITY LOSS, CREAMPIE, ORAL FIXATION, VAGINAL PENETRATION, SIZE KINK, CUM–EATING, FINGERING, CUNNILINGUS, UNPROTECTED SEX

04 |SCREAMPIED ! — transfem! ghostface! feixiao x fem! reader. there seems to be a second serial killer who has their eyes on you. but it seems like they came for you for a different reason. will they be a failure like the last one was? (10/6) continuation of — i’m like the wind baby !

preview ↳ you angrily picked up your phone for the third time in two hours, draping the towel over your shoulder as you sat down on the sofa. “ this is the third fucking time you called my damn phone, “ you shouted, pausing some cheesy horror movie that you forgot was on while taking a quick shower, “ take a hike you fuckin’ bum! don’t ask me about what my damn favorite scary movie is because i don’t have one! the last one was somehow less annoying than you are! “

there’s a small pause from the other side along with consistent, wet noises of skin slapping against skin. “ . . .fuck, “ the husky voice lets out a strained groan and laughs breathily, “ keep talking, i’m almost finished. mm, you sound so fucking hot when you’re upset, doll face.”

“ what the fuck? are you getting off from my voice, you damn weirdo? fuck off. “

05 |NATURAL PREDATOR ! — serial killer! jane doe x fem! reader. she craves you and the normalcy you bring into her life. it wouldn’t hurt to preserve it by keeping you in her home. don’t worry, she won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt her. rats aren’t natural predators after all, right? (10/26)

preview ↳ you swat the chinese food aside in frustration, jumping up from your seat, and glared at your unamused kidnapper sitting on the other side of the table. “ is this some sick game to you? chasing, kidnapping me—taking me away from my life to satisfy yours? “ you hiccuped, tears swelling in your eyes. “ and why in the actual fuck do you think it’s okay to make me sit down with you and eat some takeout food after you’ve been gone all day? what, you expect me to “gossip” with you after all the shit you’ve done to me? “

hurt flash in her teal eyes before she sighs heavily. “ do we seriously have to keep coming back to that? i understand that you’re upset but you’ll get use to this, to me soon enough. i know that i haven’t been here lately and i’m sorry. i’ll do my best to come home to you as early as i can. here, “ she says apologetically, handing you a napkin across the table with the pointed end of her tail, “ please, sit down, wipe your tears, and eat your food, my dear. unless, you prefer for me to do all of them for you? “ there’s something dark lurking behind her voice as it lowers an octave. a shiver runs down your spine at the hooded look in her narrowed eyes.

06 |ADAM & EVE ! — yandere! robin x gn! reader. all she wanted was to save her brother. even if it meant taking a bite from the forbidden fruit, stripping her away from reason, her purity—what makes her robin; an internal separation from who she used to be. ( 10/31)

preview ↳ robin straddles your lap, her darkened emerald eyes pools into yours, lulling you deeper into a trance-like state. your body feels relaxed and heavy, bones softening like malleable metal. the halovian woman lean close to you with a sickeningly sweet smile on her pale features as she brings the bitten apple to your bruised lips. there’s voices—hushed whispers ringing in your head, commanding you to take a bite of the apple. you don’t fight them back, you can’t. lust, euphoria and her hypnotic tune clouds your judgement.

you bite into the apple and sink further into the abyss, along with the shell of a woman who used to be great.

07 (BONUS?)| WUTIWANT ! — jason! transfem! acheron x fem! reader. i don’t know what i want but i know it’s not this. these words mean nothing once they’ve left my lips. (??)

preview ↳ ???

[navyhealthyglow]

a fresh start - glow up guide no.1

HAVE YOU EVER WANTED SOMETHING SO BAD, BUT DIDN'T KNOW WHERE TO START?

Me too, and that's why we're focusing on this today. Here is what you need to do, to start your glow up era with a bang 😎

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Welcome to the first post of the Glow Up Guide series! In this series I'll be discussing everything you need to know step by step, so you can have your best glow up and become your highest self.

Let's begin! ⭐💙

STEP ONE - DECLUTTER

Before we begin, put your phone down for a bit and declutter your room. You can go as crazy or little as you wish, however I prefer to do a deep clean. Dust your shelves, counters, vacuum the floor, clean out your closet etc. Make sure your desk is organized, you know where your stuff is and everything looks neat. A fresh environment supports a fresh mind, so let's start here. If you wish, you can also throw out your old clothes and replace them with new pieces. Although don't feel pressured to do so, we're trying to glow up here, not spend a reckless amount of money.

STEP TWO - JOURNAL

How can we start our glow up journey without knowing where we are now? So grab your journal, a piece of paper or open your notes app. Write down what your situation is and why is it happening. Explain what would you like to change and acknowledge your starting position. This will help us set realistic goals later on.

STEP THREE - VISION

First two steps done, bravo! Let's keep it up then and now think about who do we want to become. Write down your vision. Who is this person? What do they look like? What do they like/dislike? What are their boundaries, beliefs? How do they act, dress, workout, eat, etc... If you're having troubles with creating your vision, don't worry, I'll make a post about it soon, but until then just look some prompts on pinterest 😽

STEP FOUR - GOALS

Now we have that, write down what do you want to achieve before 2024 ends. This can be anything depending on your personal glow up preference. If you don't know what you want to accomplish yet, don't worry. Here are some goal examples for you: ⟶ read three non-fiction books ⟶ implement a morning and evening routine ⟶ finish a project ⟶ get a certain grade ⟶ prioritize sleep and self care ⟶ focus on your gut health and diet ⟶ save 500$ These are just some examples you can use, but remember to find a goal thats meaningful to YOU! If you're reading this after 2024 ends, just write down your goals for the next three months.

STEP FIVE - PLAN!

It's time for the last step - planning. Review what you wrote about your goals, your vision and where you are now. Now take it and break it down into weekly goals, and break them down to bite sized habits that you can implement daily! Here is an example: If my goal is to get fit, first I'll start drinking more water and cut out processed foods. I will buy a gym membership or find an activity that works for me (walking, running, dance, swimming, etc.) and do it regularly, let's say 3 times a week. I'll also move my body daily and try to get at least 7k steps in. This is just an example, but this is basically how this works. If you need help with planning your schedule, feel free to use AI as a tool. Tell it to create a glow up plan according to your current situation and your vision and adjust it to your needs. A tip I found very helpful, is to put everything like workouts, classes and plans in a weekly calendar. This will help you stay organized and keep up with your plans. I'll show you how I did mine below!

You can find these free templates on canva, picsart and pinterest! I got mine here.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

That's the end of todays post. I hope you had a great time reading it, and let me know if you'd like to see more content like this from me!

I can't wait to hear what you planned for your glow up in the comments, feel free to share<3

Find me here: 🤍💿

#navyhealthyglow - all my og content #navyhealthytips - glow up tips #navyhealthyjourney - my glow up journey

[byrdtrollsunoreversearchive]

An Aside for The Perfect Scapegoat

Your name is Matise Aphrod, and you are mildly annoyed. 

This is how you spend a majority of your time, ever so slightly peeved things weren’t going perfectly. You are looking at a chart of your analytics, Rollyn’s sales, instagrub and television views and engagement, and are disappointed. So her ex boyfriend erased her memory- so Sereni kicked his ass. The most recent scandal had caused a boost in attention, sure. Talk shows couldn’t get enough of it and related tags were trending, but none of it seems to translate into your bottom line- sales. The boost in her collections sales was too small to be called significant. And on top of that, Rollyn keeps telling you she wants to stop doing interviews. Whatever happened to quitting while you’re ahead? She wants to quit when the train’s barely rolling. Suddenly, your phone rings. You glance down at the caller ID, and grin. 

“Thought I might be hearing from you” You say. “Before you tell me to stop shit talking you in the media, remember that money speaks louder than words.” 

“If we’re to come to some kind of monetary agreement, I prefer to do it in person.” Sunset Blinks answers. “You’ll be down south for the next round of interviews, correct? How about 7pm at The Nouveau Table, Thursday night?” 

“Moving a little fast there, aren’t you kid?” 

“I have money for you” He answers. “Be there, or don’t.” And then he has the gaul to hang up on you. The absolute nerve of this guy, to think you’d fall for such a transparent, greed motivated ploy. Does he think you’re some kind of idiot?

.

.

.

.

.

It’s Thursday night, and you are walking through the open floor plan of a crowded restaurant, to a table where your client's ex-kismesis sits, staring forward blankly, resting his head on his hands. 

“Hi” You say, sitting down, leafing through the menu. “You’re buying, right? How’s this place’s steak?”

“Let's cut to the chase” The purpleblood says, not touching his menu.

“I won’t shut her up for less than 15 mil.” You say. “And I wrote down everything that happened, so don’t try to erase my memory, Mr. One Trick Pony. “ You warn. 

“Wipe your memory?” Sunset says, sipping the last of his water, and then slamming his glass on the table, shattering the top of it.

“No, I want everyone to know what you did,” He says. 

You stare, your hands raising defensively. “Easy kid” You say. “I’m a drinker, I’m twice your size” You warn. 

He laughs, which makes you start to think he’s just crazy. 

“I imagine you consider yourself very clever, Mr. Aphrod, but your moves are transparent to me” He says, brandishing his weapon. “You think nobody else has noticed the coincidental timing of Rollyn coming forward? Right by the release of her new line” he laughs. “I mean- for fucks sake! You even edited commercials to include mentions of the event!” 

“What?” You stutter.

He stabs you. For a moment, you are frozen in shock, then you stumble forward, scrambling to bite the little gremlin, but he’s so wirey. And he moves like a man who’s been in his fair share of fights. And despite your earlier bragging, simply being bigger and a vampire does not automatically make a better combatist. Somehow, Sunset slams you into the floor. 

“Next time you want to plan a marketing stunt” He hisses, pulling out the glass and stabbing you with it again.

“You leave the fucking mafia out of it!” He says. “You wanted to extort me? For money? I don’t think you understand your position. This?” He says, holding up his bloodstained stump of glass. “Is a warning,” He says. “I won’t give you another.” 

You try to answer- I mean, he’s accusing you of things you actually didn’t do. That never happens! Usually you have done the things, but this is just unfair. But the words don’t make it out your mouth, you’re too busy coughing up blood. 

“You and I both know I never touched Rollyn’s memory. I know her well enough to know she’s only doing this on your orders.” Sunset lies, dropping the glass, and throwing up his hands, gesturing up at all the people in the restaurant who have just witnessed the conversation. 

“And so does anyone with eyes.” He says. 

And then he leaves.

[miekasa]

mie.. i’m going into another eren phase.. so can you pls tell me your fav boyfie eren hcs…

Yeah, why not. I have so many random ones because he is my boyfriend <333 so here you gp

sfw

Eren doesn't actually work out all that often. He’s always been athletic, so his exercise comes in the form of playing sports, but he doesn’t really go to the gym outside of playing/practice.

Loves cake pops, more often than not “treats himself” to one after an exam or assignment, or whenever he feels like it lmfao. He basically eats it all in one bite, keeps the stick in his mouth to fidget with until he finds a trashcan. 

Likes seeing you in his hoodies because, well, it’s his hoodie on you; but mostly because of the size of the actual hood on you. He thinks it’s so funny but also pretty cute how the hood alone swallows you up. 

Grocery shopping with you is one of his favorite activities. He rarely goes by himself—if not with you, then with Mikasa or Armin—and all he really does is follow you around the store and occasionally put some stuff in the cart, but he still loves it. He likes running and then jumping on the cart like it’s a scooter. 

No matter how many makeup tutorials he watches, or how many times he watches you do your own makeup, he doesn’t really understand how it works lmfao. He likes watching it, and he thinks you look pretty if wearing makeup is your thing, but he baffles him how a little tube of concealer brightens your under eye.

Speaking of which, he sits criss cross applesauce either on your bed or on the toilet if you’re in the bathroom, while he watches you do your makeup. Counts the steps in his head, always confuses the contour and bronzer. It’s okay, he’s learning. 

He both likes and dislikes FaceTime. He likes the convenience of it (and will abuse it by calling you even tho you’ve just barely left his house), but he would much rather just go and see you; so he does. Unless there’s something keeping you apart, Eren will make the effort and the trip to go and see you, even if it’s late at night. 

He gets warm very easily, but always has some sort of coat/outerwear on him, even if it’s just a light windbreaker. He usually ends up hanging it over your shoulders or telling you to wear it because you “look cold” when he wants to take it off. 

He walks just like a half step behind you; technically still by your side, but trailing you by the tiniest amount. That way he gets to be with you and watch you, and also steer you away from anything/anyone else he sees ahead while you’re walking. 

If he notices your shoelaces are untied, he gently pokes your shoulder to get you to stop, then bends down and ties them for you. 

His phone case is brown leather, and has your initials engraved at the very bottom in a very tiny, dark green font. 

Likes walking around with you at night so congrats on having your own personal guard dog for Safety lmfaoo. Sometimes you guys don’t even talk; he just wants to hold your hand and wander around, and just be with you for a little bit. 

He is the one putting hair ties on YOUR gear shift and around YOUR wrist. Marking his territory lmfaooo

Learns to like coffee in college, and learns your Starbucks order pretty quickly. He’s got a very small addiction, but he always buys you a cup when he gets his own, so at least it’s beneficial for you. He doesn’t usually have much an extreme sweet tooth, but he takes his coffee with quite a few pumps of syrup and/or sweetener. 

Eren loves hugs, and once he starts getting them, he refuses to go with out them. Back hugs are his favorite, whether it be you hugging him from behind, or him doing it to you; either works for him, both feel like heaven. 

You know when it’s time to head home after a party/hanging with your friends because Eren will drape himself over you and gradually apply more of his body weight the more tired/drunk he gets. Regardless of whether or not he’s sloshed, he’ll still press very light and innocent kisses onto your neck and ears. 

Turns out he really likes getting kisses on his cheeks. It always takes him by surprise; his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise just a bit, but he usually evens out his expression before you pull back, so you don’t see. What you do see is the sorta glazed over, happy look in his eyes, and if you look closely, you might see his pupils dilate, too. 

He actually doesn’t mind reading, he just never thinks to read in his free time. When he does remember, and what he’s reading is interesting to him, he finishes the book pretty quickly—a few days, maybe a week at most—it’s kind of impressive. Then he goes on to not look at another book for a good five months lmfao. 

Asked you what detergent and fabric softener you used on your sheets, then bought the exact same products to do his laundry with. 

He picks you up pretty often. It’s not always tossing you over his shoulder, or carrying you bridal style, but if he needs to get to something behind you in the kitchen he’ll just. Just pick you up, turn, plop you down, get what he needs, pick you up, turn around again, and plop you right back into place. Like a doll. 

Actually very good and very meticulous when it comes to cleaning. Not a single hard water stain in sight on your dishes. Sparkling countertops and tables, your oven has never looked shinier than when he’s done with it. 

Doodles on his notes when he’s bored in class. Doodles on your notes if he’s bored in class and you’re there, too. 

He claims to not get jealous easily, but he definitely does. His methods of dealing with it are either to (a) pout (usually only happens when he gets jealous of someone you’re telling him about), (b) find an excuse to pull you away from this other person, (c) be extremely cold to this other person, (d) pretend to be sick/tired/hungry as an excuse for you to be concerned about him/dote on him in front of this other person (this is his favorite method). 

Will push your phone down/into your face if you’re laying down using it or just scrolling through your feeds. Thinks it’s peak comedy, always runs away with a little shit grin on his mouth. 

He’s always tuned into you, and sometimes physically turned to you, even in a larger conversation with other people around. Finds a way to pull you into the convo if you’ve been on the quieter side, nudges at your side under the table to bother you when you’re distracted, frequently looks at you even if someone else is talking. 

nsfw/suggestive

Eren really likes lazy sex, and it’s arguably one of his favorites; and for someone who’s not a morning person, he sure does like morning sex. He does this thing where he wakes up at like eight in the morning, starts feeling up on you, and eventually very lazily fucks you before you even have the chance to say good morning, then crashes and sleeps for another two hours. Sometimes he doesn’t pull out. 

Always gets hard when you do try on hauls of the new clothes you’ve bought; whether it be via FaceTime or in person. You could be showing him your new sweatpants, and he’ll still find it sexy. 

Can and will find time to grope you whenever possible. Getting water from the kitchen means you’re getting your ass smacked while you open the fridge. Putting on your shoes also means you’re getting your ass smacked when you bend over. Standing around debating on what to wear for the day means he’s coming up behind you to put his hands on your boobs. Doing your skincare routine in the bathroom means he’s got his hands on your hips squeezing at your skin. 

Likes being bitten. Will tell you to bite him; he’ll lean down while he’s fucking you, smile wickedly when you grab and claw at his back, and you’re gasping against his shoulder, “Wanna hurt me? Go ahead, baby, do your worst.” 

He loves making out with you, even if it doesn’t lead to sex; actually, sometimes, he prefers it that way. You make his head spin just by kissing him, and there’s a special kind of bliss of just rutting against each other without fucking that he loves. 

Lovesssss taking mirror selfie’s with you on his lap and your back to the mirror, especially right after sex. Your head resting on his shoulder and he just barely murmurs, “Stay right there, don’t move.” Might start a collection of pics like that.

Tugging on his ear acts as encouragement, but somewhat surprisingly, that sole action doesn’t necessarily turn him on; it doesn’t turn him off, and he likes it, but it’s more... soothing? than sexual to him. What you should do instead is put your hand on the back of his neck/touch the hair near his nape. 

He could have done all the work, but will still wrap you in his arms and kiss your head and tell you how good you are, how good you were to him. He really does think you fucked him 9/10 times and takes pride in it too lmaooo

Holds your jaw open with one hand, presses the index and middle fingers of his other hand against your tongue, and watches your spit pool around him. He exhales slowly at the sight, moving his fingers around to coat them evenly before pulling them out of your mouth and separating them; watches a thin line of spit connect them and groans. 

Holds you jaw a lot, actually: when you’re kissing, when you’re blowing him, when he’s on top and fucking you, when he’s fucking you from behind, he’ll pull you up with one hand, use two fingers and turn your head to the side so he can kiss you. 

It’s him that kinda loses it first most of the time; that gets that fucked out, hazy look in his eyes, that makes everything feel like too much so his head drops to your shoulder and he resorts to biting at your neck to further stimulate you. 

Likes sucking on your tongue when you kiss. Falls in love with you all over again on the spot when you do it back to him. 

You could just barely put your hands on him and Eren will groan, mutter about how you’re so sexy and how badly he wants to fuck you. Could just lay back with your chest heaving from kissing him and he’s got hearts in his eyes and his dick is hard. 

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Two Minutes for Hooking (Up) 

A/N: So, story time! This whole thing started because @vidalinav​ asked the GC what their ideal meet cute would be, and then @talkfantasytome​ said one of hers was meeting at a baseball game, and I was like I could not imagine a meet being particularly cute at a hockey game (my sporting event of choice), and then @dustjacketmusings​ jumped in with the “it would be a feisty meet cute”, and of course, someone says feisty and my brain instantly goes Nessian. Cue @moodymelanist​ also jumping in as an enabler, and here we are.... This originally was supposed to be a cute little drabble but then it got away from me and ended up being 5,000 words, but I hope everyone enjoys? Idk bro idk :) 

Ramiel Arena looms high over the streets of Velaris, the flashing lights on the large screens declaring the game for tonight, large banners of the team’s top stars plastered to the walls. There’s already a decent size crowd making their way toward the doors, a sea of black and white, the three star logo of the Velaris North Stars displayed on jerseys and hats and shirts alike.

Nesta earns a few curious looks her way at the jersey she’s adorning, the blue color of it unmistakable, but she refuses to back down. If anything, it makes her straighten her spine that inch more, makes her hold her head just that bit higher. It won’t matter anyways what anyone thinks. Three periods and the Adriata Sharks will be moving on to the next round of the playoffs, and the North Stars’ season will be done.

Nesta keeps a tight hold of Gwyn's hand as they weave their way to join the line to get in, Gwyn's other hand clasped with Emerie's. The security guard that checks their purses openly balks at them, and the worker who scans the tickets makes an offhanded comment about them being "ballsy," but then they're through the doors.

It's easy enough to find their section. Since it's such a big game, they decided to splurge on lower bowl tickets, getting one of the upper rows behind the goal the Sharks will shoot twice on. They settle into their seats and almost instantly Gwyn has her phone out, taking a photo of their view for Instagram.

"You know you're wearing the wrong jersey, right, sweetheart?"

Nesta whips her head to the left to find a man in the seat next to her. Dark curls are scraped back away from his face and pulled into a bun, a North Stars jersey pulled tight across his broad shoulders. His eyes are a bright hazel, a kaleidoscope of greens and golds that seem to twinkle in amusement as they rake over Nesta. When he meets her gaze again, he smirks. It has Nesta scowling at him in response.

"I'm not your sweetheart," Nesta sneers, settling this man with her best cold, hard, unimpressed stare. "And while it's none of your business, I happen to prefer wearing the jersey of a winning team."

"Then you're definitely going to need to change, since the North Stars are winning tonight."

"Are you kidding me? Did you forget who's currently ahead in the series?"

"It doesn't matter," the man explains easily, leaning on the arm rest between their seats and closer to Nesta. "The North Stars are going to win tonight, force a game seven, and then they're going to go to Adriata and win there too."

Nesta can't help but scoff at that. "With your blue line? Don't make me laugh."

"At least our stars can score. All your goals have to come from your grinders."

"Jealous we have a complete team?"

"Seriously, Nesta?" Nesta snaps her head to the right, Emerie watching her with an unimpressed expression. "The game hasn't even started and you're already picking fights?"

"I am not picking fights," Nesta argues, barely keeping the exasperation out of her tone. "He started it."

Emerie's expression doesn't move an inch, and Gwyn now looks like she's barely biting back a laugh. The reactions bristle Nesta's nerves. She settles back in her seat with a frustrated huff, crossing her arms across her chest. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye finds the man smirking again, but that just has Nesta's annoyance flaring even more. How dare he. How dare this man try and start shit with her and then have the nerve to look satisfied, amused even.

"So… Nesta," the man begins, and Nesta can practically hear the smugness in his tone.

"Don't."

"Would you prefer I keep calling you sweetheart?"

Nesta turns to glare at him. "Absolutely not."

"So, Nesta," the man continues unperturbed, like she's not staring daggers into him. "My name's Cassian by the way, but I was curious. Are you from Velaris? Or from Adriata?"

Nesta means to ignore him, to leave him stewing in his questions, she really does, but there's something about him. Something about the way the lights of the arena reflect in the hazel of his eyes, about the shadows the lights paint across his skin. He watches her, his expression patiently expectant, but Nesta swears he's looking right through her somehow. Swears that despite their talk of just hockey, there's something deeper unsaid thrumming beneath the words, between them.

"We're from Adriata," Nesta explains. "We drove in for the game. To watch the Sharks win and move on."

"I already told you," Cassian laughs, the sound low and rumbling. "The North Stars are going to win tonight."

"We'll see," Nesta tells him primly, turning back toward the rink as the lights dim and the announcer's voice cuts in over the speakers.

The arena plays some cringey hype video for the North Stars on the jumbotron, the whole thing leaving Nesta rolling her eyes. The starting lines are introduced, a singer comes out to perform the anthem, and then the players are taking their places on the ice. Nesta can't help but turn toward Cassian with a smirk of her own, nudging him gently with her elbow.

"You see number seventy-six there?" Nesta asks him, Cassian raising an eyebrow curiously in response. "He's the best defenseman in the league."

"You wish," Cassian shoots back.

"He is."

"Then I guess it will be even sweeter when our first line walks all over him."

"You'll be lucky if you get a single goal all game."

The whistle blows, the puck drops, and the game is off. Nesta leans forward in her seat, elbows braced on her knees and eyes darting back and forth, as she follows the game up and down the ice. She can't help but mutter under her breath, a bad habit Emerie is always teasing her for, but her heart is in her throat, nerve endings on fire, with every play, every near chance in front of both nets.

There’s only a few minutes left in the first period when one of the Shark’s wingers carries the puck through the neutral zone. They try to make their way around the defender, nothing but open ice waiting for them on the other side, but instead they go sprawling across the ice. The play continues on around them, and Nesta is on her feet in a second.

“Are you kidding me, ref?” Nesta calls toward the ice. “Where’s the call?”

“There was nothing to call,” Cassian points out, that annoying smugness still overflowing in his voice.

“It was a blatant trip.”  

“Maybe you need to get your eyes checked, sweetheart.”

“Maybe you need to learn to shut your mouth.”

The man on Cassian’s other side lets out a snort at Nesta’s comment, almost choking on the beer he’s drinking. Cassian turns to glare at his companion, and when he snaps his gaze back to Nesta, she’s almost worried she took it too far, but Cassian’s eyes are practically glittering in amusement, alight with the challenge. It’s too late that she realizes he’s enjoying this, not until Cassian’s mouth twists with that ever present cocksure smirk.

“I can think of a few ways you can help shut me up,” Cassian offers, the suggestion dripping from his tone.

Nesta barely has time to swallow down her surprise, but she can’t stop the blush that sends heat cascading under her skin. She settles Cassian with a scowl, but she knows he clocks her flush, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes dip down to her lips before dancing up to meet her eyes again. She refuses to give him the satisfaction of a response, settling back into her seat and keeping her focus solely on the game.

When the horn sounds, signaling the end of the first period, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie retreat to the main concourse to grab food. Nesta leads the way down the steps back to their seats, a bag of popcorn in one hand and a drink in the other. They’ve barely made it to their row when Nesta can feel a pair of eyes on her, leaving her skin prickling in awareness. She doesn’t have to look to know which hazel gaze is the culprit.

Just because she can, Nesta takes the seat closest to the aisle and furthest away from Cassian. Thankfully, her friends don’t make a comment about it, but Gwyn and Emerie do share a knowing look before taking the other two seats. Nesta chats easily with Gwyn through the remainder of the intermission. All the while, she can feel that stare boring into her temple like flames licking against her skin. It’s only when the lights dim again to signal the start of the second period that the fire finally recedes.

The second period is as intense as the first, but still scoreless, and with each push from either team on the ice, tensions seem to rise, the game becoming quite chippy. Every play ends with chirping between the players and extra shoves against the boards. At the far end of the ice, a Sharks player takes the puck behind the net, clearly hoping to make a pass to the slot, but instead a North Star player plows through them. The Sharks player crumbles to the ice, clutching at his head, and Nesta is once again on her feet.

“You cannot be serious! How can you not call that?”

“That was a perfectly clean hit,” Cassian calls toward her, leaning forward in his seat so he can speak around Emerie and Gwyn.

“A clean hit? There was head contact.”

“Yeah, accidental! He never left his feet and he led with his hip.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Alright, that’s it,” the man to Cassian’s other side declares, standing up.

Nesta watches in confusion as the man moves his way down the row, past Cassian, past Emerie and Gwyn. When he reaches Nesta, his hands reach up, fingers gently curling around her shoulders, before spinning them around so they’ve switched spots. He falls into Nesta’s vacated seat without a care, plucking up her drink from the cupholder and holding it out for her take. All Nesta can do is gape at him, but he seems unperturbed, ignoring Nesta and turning toward Gwyn.

“Hi, I’m Azriel,” the man introduces himself to Gwyn, holding out a hand for the redhead to shake.

“Hey! Sit down!” a voice cuts in.

Nesta turns to glare at the person a few rows back, but when she turns back to demand Azriel get out of her seat, he seems resolute in avoiding her gaze. With an annoyed huff, Nesta makes her way down the row of seats, settling into the now vacated one next to Cassian. Cassian turns toward her, offering her a wide, winning smile, but Nesta is determined to ignore him. It’s easier said than done.

“So, Nes,” Cassian starts once the horn blares to end the second period, tossing an arm along the back of Nesta’s seat. “How did you—”

“Nesta,” Nesta cuts in to correct.

“That’s what I said,” Cassian dismisses with a shrug. “So, how did you become a big Sharks fan?”

Nesta turns to scowl at Cassian, her annoyance only growing when he reaches forward and steals a handful of popcorn from her. “Is your mission in life to annoy me or something?”

A slow smirk pulls its way across Cassian’s face, and Nesta already regrets asking. She can already see the dirty thoughts simmering just behind his eyes, the wheels turning for him to turn her question around into another suggestive comment.

“I changed my mind. Don’t answer that,” Nesta cuts in before Cassian can speak. “I grew up on the game. I used to sneak out of bed as a kid so I could watch the playoffs when my father did.”

“And your family’s from Adriata?”

“Actually, both my sisters live in Velaris, but I went to college in Adriata. It’s how I met Emerie and Gwyn, and the three of us all became Sharks fans.”

Cassian hums softly in understanding. “My brothers and I basically grew up on the North Stars, being from Velaris and all. We actually used to all play hockey when we were younger.”

“And you don’t play now?”

“I’ll do the occasional weekend pickup game, but I’m certainly no NHL player.”

“How disappointing,” Nesta tells him primly, barely biting back her own smirk, before her words fully register in her mind.

Nesta waits for the comment to come, for the jab that always follows. There’s always a sly comment about her being a woman who’s a sports fan, a joke about being attracted to the players, questions of if she can even name the rules. But it never comes. Instead, Cassian chats with her about their respective teams, about this season’s hot trades, and how the other playoff series have been the past month. Nesta wants to hate how genuine Cassian seems, how easy it seems to talk with him. Only a few hours and he’s already wormed his way under her skin.

Thankfully, before Nesta has time to do any real introspection about that, the third period starts. The injury to their own player in the second period seems to have sparked something in the Sharks, and it takes them less than a minute to score. Nesta jumps up to her feet to cheer, Cassian burying his face in his hands with a groan.

Nesta and Cassian don’t talk much as the minutes tick down and down to the end of the third period, the threat of elimination hanging in the air of the arena. Nesta can tell that Cassian is getting antsy, leaning forward in his seat and his leg bouncing with anxiety. Nesta, on the other hand, can feel anticipation thrumming through her veins. This is it. The Sharks are going to win and move on in the playoffs, and she’s here to see it.

“Looks like the North Stars won’t be winning after all,” Nesta tells Cassian smugly during a television timeout.

“There’s still a minute left in the game,” Cassian argues.

“And you really think they can pull off a comeback in that time?”

“Did you know it takes less than ten seconds to score a goal?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt for a second that you’re very familiar with the concept ‘less than ten seconds.’”

Cassian blinks in surprise for a moment, but then that amused smirk returns in full force, and he tosses Nesta a wink. “I’d be more than happy to prove you wrong after this game. My place?”

“In your dreams.”

Cassian laughs, but then his attention is back on the ice. There’s ten seconds remaining in the game when the North Stars’ center carries the puck into the offensive zone, drop passing back to a winger. The winger passes to a defenseman who dances along the blue line before shooting into the bodies in front of the net. Nesta can’t tell if the puck goes off a body or a stick, but the horn blares and everyone is shooting to their feet all around the arena to cheer. All Nesta can do is gape, gape the entire final seconds of regulation.

“Looks like we’re headed to overtime, sweetheart.”

Overtime is an entirely next level of anxiety. Every play feels more intense, the stakes ever higher. A particularly close call has Nesta’s hand snapping out to grip Cassian’s arm, his skin surprisingly warm beneath her fingertips. Luckily, overtime doesn’t last too long, but unluckily, it’s the North Stars scoring five minutes in. Everyone is on their feet around her, but Nesta just stares blankly at the ice, at the North Star players all jumping and hugging in their excitement over staving off elimination.

“Well, would you look at that,” Cassian’s smug voice breaks through her shock, the man in question having taken his seat again. “I was right after all.”

“Feeling pretty proud of yourself?” Nesta questions with a roll of her eyes.

“Certainly pretty proud of the North Stars. And I’ll be feeling especially good when they win again back in Adriata for game seven.”

“Should I expect to see you there too? So you can annoy me more?”

“Unlikely,” Azriel’s voice cuts in from the other end of the row, some unsaid amusement underlying his tone.

Cassian chuckles nervously at his brother’s words, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not be banned from the Adriata arena.”

“Banned?” Nesta asks incredulously. “You’re banned?”

“I went to a game there last playoffs,” Cassian explains, offering Nesta a sheepish smile. “And it went to double overtime, and I ended up drinking a lot more than I intended, and there was this guy…”

“Oh my gods,” Nesta whispers, realization dawning on her. “You’re the guy who started a fight during last year’s double overtime game?”

“Allegedly. You can’t prove it.”

Nesta can’t help it. She laughs. She laughs at the absurdity that has been this whole game, this whole evening, this man. She laughs until she has to press a hand to her mouth, until her sides start to hurt. Cassian’s face is a picture perfect look of surprise at her reaction, but then he’s grinning widely, laughing with her.

“Well, then, I guess this is goodbye,” Nesta declares once she’s calmed down, standing up from her seat.

“What?” Cassian asks, standing up as well.

It’s then that Nesta realizes just how tall Cassian is. She’d known somewhat in the back of her mind even when he was seated, his broad shoulders a giveaway, but he stands almost a head taller than her, and Nesta has to tilt her head up to keep his gaze. His large frame also means he’s blocking Nesta’s path to exit.

“The game is over,” Nesta points out, gesturing with her hand toward the emptying out arena. “Or did you forget?”

“Right… yeah…” Cassian agrees, but something like disappointment seems to simmer in his eyes.

Despite his words, Cassian doesn’t move out of the way. It’s only when Nesta settles him with an exasperated look, the silent question clear, that Cassian steps back, allowing Nesta to pass. His hand reaches out like he means to help steady her, and even through the fabric of the jersey she’s wearing, Nesta swears electricity burns where his fingers brush.

“It was nice to meet you, Nesta,” Cassian calls after her as she steps out of the row with Emerie and Gwyn.

“I wish I could say the same,” Nesta teases, Cassian’s laughter following her all the way out into the main concourse and out of the arena.

~ * * * ~

Stepping through the doors of the Adriata arena, fondly nicknamed by fans the Shark Tank, feels a bit like coming home for Nesta. Something about the crowds all decked out in their blue jerseys, about the excited chatter around a game seven, about the sights and sounds inside that are so familiar. Nesta takes a deep breath of it all, unable to bite down the smile that pulls wide across her face.

“Azriel! You made it.”

Nesta pauses where she was following behind Gwyn and Emerie, watching in surprise as Gwyn goes tearing ahead of them. She comes to a stop in front of a tall man, one Nesta recognizes from the game in Velaris two days previous. Almost instinctively Nesta’s eyes sweep around them, looking for broad shoulders, hazel eyes, and a head of dark curls.

She knows she shouldn’t be surprised to see Azriel here. The man had apparently asked Gwyn for her number at the last game, and Gwyn had spent the last two days smiling at her phone, much to Nesta and Emerie’s teasing. Still, that doesn’t stop the disappointment that flares deep in Nesta’s gut at the sight of just a singular pair of hazel eyes. She’s not sure how she feels about that.

“He’s still banned,” Azriel explains as if he can read Nesta’s thoughts, him and Gwyn having stepped forward to rejoin Nesta and Emerie.

“Good,” Nesta tells him primly, although Azriel’s expression tells her he doesn’t believe her for a second, and Nesta can do nothing against the blush that scatters across her face at being caught. “I wouldn’t want to deal with his annoyance again anyways.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure,” Emerie cuts in, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Despite her quip, Emerie loops her arm through Nesta’s, the four of them making their way to their seats. The game is exactly as exciting as Nesta expected. The whole arena seems to be alive with it, with the anticipation of the Sharks potentially punching their ticket to the next round. Nesta is on her feet with every almost goal, every great save by the Sharks’ goaltender. She joins in with the crowd’s chants, feeling almost bittersweet when the first period comes to an end.

After the horn blares, Gwyn and Azriel vacate their seats to grab food, Emerie following behind them so she can go to the bathroom. It leaves Nesta alone with their row of seats, and she pulls out her phone to distract herself while she waits for the second period to start.

“Is this seat taken?”

Nesta’s gaze snaps up, surprised to find Cassian standing at the end of the row. That cocksure smirk is still painted across his face, mischief dancing amongst the greens and golds of his hazel eyes. He has a beanie pulled down low over his dark curls and is wearing a Sharks jersey this time, as if that will somehow hide his true identity.

“Cassian?” Nesta asks, glancing around before dropping her voice. “I thought you were banned?”

“That’s why I’m wearing a disguise,” Cassian explains easily, gesturing with his hand to his attire and dropping into the seat next to Nesta.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Nesta tells him doubtfully even as she’s unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

“They’ll never know I’m here in a sold out arena,” Cassian shrugs, tossing an arm over the back of Nesta’s seat. “So, Nes. Did you miss me?”

“Quite the opposite actually.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Did you know that?”

Nesta opens her mouth, a retort primed and ready on the tip of her tongue, when she notices the security guards coming their direction, eyes practically glued on Cassian. A man Nesta doesn’t recognize walks with them, dressed in a stylish suit that matches the Sharks’ team colors. They come to a stop at the row Nesta and Cassian are sitting in, all of their faces equally unimpressed if not borderline angry. Cassian turns to follow Nesta’s gaze, wincing when he takes in what’s waiting for him.

“Tarquin, buddy, how are you?” Cassian greets, keeping his tone light and innocent. Nesta’s eyes widen as she realizes who the man is. Tarquin. Owner of the Sharks team and the arena.

“Did you really think you could step inside my arena, and I wouldn’t know?” Tarquin asks him, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, I’ll admit I was hoping it would at least take you a period or two to figure it out.”

“Do you think this is a joke? What part of a lifetime ban don’t you understand?”

“It’s been a year. Can’t we just let the past be in the past?”

“I don’t care who your brother is, Cassian. Get out of my arena,” Tarquin practically seethes, security guards already stepping forward to pull Cassian to his feet. “Your companion too.”

“What?” Nesta cuts in, but she can’t even protest before the security guards are pulling her to her feet too.

Nesta and Cassian are led out of the seat section and through the main concourse. They earn a few confused and curious glances from the other fans milling about and getting food from the different concession stands, but Nesta’s gaze is firmly on Cassian’s. She stares daggers into the back of his head, throwing every angry emotion behind it.

This is all his fault. She’s going to get tossed out of the arena, won’t get to see her favorite team win, all because of Cassian’s idiocy. She’s going to murder him. Slowly and painfully. Especially because Cassian is completely unbothered by the turn of events, strolling behind Tarquin like this is all just a regular occurrence. It has Nesta’s blood seething with annoyance.

Tarquin comes to a stop in front of the doors to the arenas, the security guards flanking them on all sides like they expect Nesta and Cassian to make a run for it. One of the security steps forward, opening and holding the door.

“I trust I won’t need to remind you again what a lifetime ban means?” Tarquin asks, gesturing toward the door.

“Tarquin, listen,” Cassian starts, holding up his hands placatingly. “I know you thought you needed to ban me—”

“You started a fist fight with a fan,” Tarquin cuts in.

“Allegedly,” Cassian corrects, glancing toward Nesta with a wide, mischievous smile. “But the point is, I get it, and I respect the ban.”

“Clearly not, if here you are.”

“But you see,” Cassian continues unperturbed. “I did it for love. You see Nesta here? She’s the love of my life, and I just had to see her again.”

Nesta doesn’t have time to swallow down her shock, her jaw practically dropping open at Cassian’s words. As if dragging her into this and getting her thrown out of the arena wasn’t enough? Now he’s trying to use her to get out of his ban? She’s definitely murdering him after this. At least Tarquin seems unimpressed with Cassian’s attempts, the man pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a sigh.

“And that’s also why you can’t ban Nesta,” Cassian keeps going. “Because I’m going to marry her one day, and she’s a big Sharks fan. You know what they say: happy wife, happy life, and if I get her banned from this arena, she will not be a happy wife. What a terrible start to our relationship.”

“Fine, I won’t ban her,” Tarquin concedes with another heaving sigh. “But you both do need to leave tonight. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“Deal,” Cassian agrees eagerly, grabbing Nesta’s hand in his and pulling her out the door.

The doors to the arena close with a soft snick, leaving Nesta and Cassian standing alone in the evening darkness of the street. Nesta can hear the cheers from the crowds watching on the big screen outside the arena a few blocks down, faint but still clinging to the wind. This block is empty, though, just them and the streetlights overhead.

Cassian turns to Nesta with a smile, and that’s the last straw for her. She snaps and lets that simmering anger under her skin finally bubble over, stepping into Cassian’s space and hitting her fists against him. His amused laughter at her reaction just further eggs her on.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Nesta seethes. “What is wrong with you? I can’t believe you!”

“Come on, Nes,” Cassian tries to protest, catching Nesta’s wrists in his large hands and holding her still. “I kept you from getting a ban like me.”

“I would never have to worry about any type of ban if it wasn’t for you! Did you ever think about that? This is all your fault,” Nesta reminds him angrily, fueled even more by the fact Cassian doesn’t seem to be listening to her, his expression slightly glazed over. “Cassian!”

Cassian blinks a few times before raising his eyes to meet Nesta’s again. “What?”

“You’re not even listening to me.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss you right now.”

The words have Nesta’s mouth snapping shut, all other words dying in the back of her throat. Cassian steps closer into her space, walking them back until Nesta’s back gently hits the wall of the arena. His eyes dip down to her lips before dancing back up to meet hers, the desire clear under the yellow glow of the streetlights.

“I thought you were just saying all those things earlier,” Nesta tells him quietly. “To get out of your ban.”

“The first thing you need to know about me,” Cassian offers, leaning closer until his nose brushes against Nesta’s. “Is that I always mean what I say.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, so can I kiss you now?”

Maybe it’s the way the tension has been building since Cassian first went toe to toe with her at the last game. Or maybe it’s the adrenaline from watching a game seven still licking through Nesta’s veins. But there’s no denying the embers lying in wait between them, waiting for that spark to roar to life and swallow them whole. And Nesta wants that spark. She wants this man with his cocksure smirks and his stupid ban, wants him to keep looking at her the way he does.

So, rather than answer, Nesta fists her hands in the jersey Cassian is wearing, tugging him that final inch closer. Cassian’s lips crash against hers, his hands coming up to cradle Nesta’s face. Every inch of him seems to radiate warmth as he presses closer against her, their lips sliding together. Cassian deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing into Nesta’s mouth, and Nesta can’t stop the moan that tears free from the back of her throat. The response just seems to spur him on, one of Cassian’s arms slipping to around her waist and tugging her flush against him.

When they finally pull apart, Nesta’s chest is heaving, her lips swollen and still tingling from the touch. Her blood feels almost molten, and it takes a moment to find the strength to flutter her eyes back open. She finds Cassian staring right back at her. One of his palms still rests against her cheek, and his thumb traces a gentle line across her skin. It sends goosebumps pebbling across Nesta’s skin, sends her heart skipping and thundering between her ribs until all she can do is smile at him, Cassian smiling widely right back at her.

“You know,” Cassian starts, his voice deep and husky from their kissing. “I’ve always wanted to see the sites of Adriata. Maybe we could start with your place?”

—

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @hellogoodbye14​ @nestaspegasus​ @nesquik-arccheron​ @sv0430​ @lady-winter-sunrise​ ​​@talkfantasytome @secretlovelybeauty​ @dontgetsalmonella​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @mis-lil-red​ @bookstantrash​ @eirini-thaleia​ @sleeping-and-books​ @wonderland--memories​ @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter​ @sayosdreams​ @ubigaia​ @cannellefawn @duskandstarlight​ @live-the-fangirl-life​ @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​ @fromthelibraryofemilyj​ @luivagr-blog​ @autumnbabylon​ @xstarlightsupremex​ @lifeisntafantasy​ @deedz-thrillerkilller16​ @superspiritfestival​ @faeriebambula​ @almosttenaciousmoon​​​ @vanjaulven​​​ @laughadil​​​ @magdoi​​ @hiimheresworld​​ @whyislifesohardworld @birdsdontwearshoes​​ @marigold-morelli​ 

[preciouslandmermaid]

KINKTOBER 2022.

Going to attempt to DO Kinktober. I haven’t done this since my days on Live Journal! Under the cut, you’ll find multiple options per day. The list was inspired by this one (found here) with some adjustments to match my own comfort and limits.  How it works: 

You MUST be 18+ to participate. If you are sending me a request, then you are agreeing to see mature/explicit content. Your online experience is your own to cultivate and I’m not out here checking I.D.’s. Minors do not interact! 

Pick a prompt from the list & include a character(s)* (see list below)

When you send your request, please include details such as gender (ex: f!reader) and anything else (ex: tattooed reader, long hair, etc).

Send it via my askbox or submission box. 

My limits: I will not, under any circumstance, write non-con or dub con, daddy kinks, A/B/O, and no age play/age gaps, or watersports. 

** Feel free to ask for a character that isn’t from the list, but keep in mind that I might turn it down because I don’t know them/their media and don’t feel like I can do them justice. 

All filled prompts will be filed under #kinktober2022 - I will eventually add this tag to my masterlist once I’m writing stuff. All fics will be Character x Reader, though I won’t use Y/N, because personal preference lol. The character list is organized between familiar/non-familiar. Non-familiar just means I haven’t written for them but I want to.

Requests will be OPEN for the rest of September and likely into October (probably?) I guess I’ll make a separate post for the filled prompts lol 

Character list (familiar): Carmy Berzatto (The Bear), Eleventh Doctor (Doctor Who), Kylo Ren/Ben Solo (Star Wars), Dream/Morpheus (The Sandman), Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) (I feel like I have others so...I’ll add them if I remember). 

Character list (unfamiliar): Matt Murdock (Daredevil), Mikey Berzatto (The Bear), Richie Jermovich (The Bear), Battison (Batman/Robert Pattison), Sheriff Hassan (Midnight Mass), Steve Harrington (Stranger Things). 

PROMPT LIST:  [ There are multiple prompts per day, but you can pick & choose. You don’t have to include all 3. ] 

Face-sitting || Cream-pie || Biting/Hickey

Against a wall || Touched Starved || Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac

Exhibitionism || Hair-pulling || Licking  

Spanking || Reverse Cowgirl || Knife play

Mutual Masturbation || Lap dances || Quiet Sex

Food play || Overstimulation || Deep throating

Roleplay || Sex Toys || Stripping/Strip tease

Slow/Sensual/Soft || Size difference || Cunnilingus

Angry Sex (consensual) || Lingerie || Edging

Praise kink || Gagging || Car Sex

Being recorded || Sleepy sex || Mirror sex

Begging || Dry Humping || Formal Wear

Edging/Orgasm Denial || Blindfolds || Threesome

Temperature Play || Bath/Shower || Swallowing

Somnophilia (consensual)  || Riding || Masturbation

Dirty Talk || Accidental Stimulation || Massaging

Breast worship || Deep Throating || Choking

Mind-control || Hand jobs || Anywhere BUT the bed

Breeding || Overstimulation || Bondage/Tying up  

Vampire/or any Monster AU || Spanking || Phone sex

Candle/Wax Play || Dirty Talk || Fingering

Thigh riding || Praise kink || Nylons/Tights

Window/Balcony Sex || Clothes ripping/partial clothing || Cock warming

Teasing || Doggy Style || Slow/Soft/Sensual

Masks/Anonymous Sex || Blood Kink || Masochism  

Manhandling/Rough || Pregnancy || Ropes

Swallowing || Aftercare || Loss of Virginity

Teasing || Almost getting caught || Facial

Size Kink || Dirty Talk || Drunken/or/Stoned Sex

Praise kink || Against a wall || Blowjob

Wild card/random/writer's choice lol

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Potentially silly question, but: What do you think Grima's favorite and least favorite foods are? Do you think he's a picky eater, or will he eat just about anything you put in front of him?

Oooh man. There’s literally never a silly Grima question 💚

So it’s a two parter: pre and post Saruman. (If we are going for book canon Hot Takes)

(Apologies in advance, I’m on my phone, I’ve also had a bit of wine. My coherence maybe be lacking)

-

Pre-Saruman—I think Grima ate most anything. I suspect Rohan’s food and pallate, being loosely based on early medieval Anglo-Saxon England and Scandinavia, was largely limited for the average person. Grima would have started experiencing real Adventures In Food either leaving Rohan (as I have him doing from circa 17ish to 24ish) or getting into the King’s household and therefore being able to afford a more diverse diet/eating at a table of someone who has a diverse diet.

Considering food consumption is super tied to status and power, two things we know Grima to canonically be keen on, I think he’d be willing to give That Weird Foreign Food a go at least a few times. At the very least, I think he’d publicly demonstrate its consumption purely because it’s what the rich and powerful do. Even if it’s something he doesn’t like, he’d pretend then discreetly feed it to the dogs at table.

Where I think Grima is picky is about the order in which he eats his food and how it’s arranged. People are eating on trenchers or other such similar things—I suppose by the time he gets to be theoden’s advisor they’re eating on proper plateware which makes it easier—but the thing is, I think Grima likes to separate his food so it doesn’t touch each other.

Good fucking luck 90% of the time. But, once he’s at court? So much easier to keep the legumes from touching the root vegetables from touching the meat from touching the fish etc

He eats in order of least favourite to the best dish in order to have the last bite be something he truly likes, or at least whose taste and texture are the best out of what is offered. Savors the best for last short of thing.

-

Post-Saruman—the big change here is I think he goes pescatarian, if not full vegetarian.

Lotho. It’s about Lotho.

So same things as above apply, save he will discreetly get rid of his meat portion somehow.

He also hoards food post-Saruman and so will steal things from the table for later, and he gets anxious about portion sizes. If the serving dish looks small and there are lots of people, he worries about not getting enough and being hungry. Something that was never a concern of his pre-Saruman.

-

I think he’d never turn food down. He’ll always accept what is offered, because That Is The Done Thing, but you might just find he hid parts he didn’t like under extra bread or fed it to the dog or whatever.

-

Food in a subsistence society like Rohan isn’t something you get to be picky over in a meaningful way. Perhaps that’s #problematic or something to say aloud (especially on this webbed site), but it was the reality for that world. Not that people didn’t have preferences, but food was limited in a lot of ways we aren’t really used to. So it truly was for a lot of people “if you don’t eat what’s on the table, you’re not eating tonight”. Not out of meanness, but out of just point blank reality of food access.

And being forced to eat what’s going for the season, and what is broadly just available to hand, changes how you eat. We in the west come from a culture of mass options of food in a way our ancestors couldn’t dream of. There’s a luxury in some aspects of pickiness that people didn’t have until very recently. Especially people in like the year 800. Because even if the texture of turnips makes you gag, if that’s what you have to eat for all of winter and spring, well, you figure it out somehow.

And Grima came from a family without a title, and if they had land it didn’t go to him. I don’t think Grima had a choice in what he was eating until he was much older. Then—well, by then it was about status and performing an attempt at nobility while not being noble. So you eat the weird shit the king had imported from Dol Amroth.

Like, choice/pickiness in food and the diversity in diet that allows for it, is a modern concept that just wouldn’t apply in the same way to the world Grima lived in. It was just engaged with on a different level and it was limited in many ways.

So yeah! I just think he was chill about all food until he was forced to eat Lotho (tbc) which, I can only assume, was a highly traumatic experience—enough so that it fundamentally altered how he could engage with food. That said, he’d still accept pork. He just might give it to your dog. Or come up with some excuse why he couldn’t accept it on his plate. Or he’d choke it down and deal with it.

Not to mention that he was clearly starved, and that fucks with how you engage with food but more on a supply (do we have enough??) side than anything else.

But otherwise, he’s just got his thing about not wanting things to touch each other. But not so much that he won’t eat it if it happens.

-

Thank you so much! And again, no question about Grima is too weird. I love talking about him!!

[harryssweatcreaturee]

For the Love of Ballet. IIII

a/n: here you gooo y’allllllllll, this one’s cute, nasty, and sweet all at once. enjoy it (; feedback is always welcomed and encouraged!!

word count: 2k

warnings: sexual content, daddy kink

--

When you know, you know, right?

Well, at least Harry knew.

The man was a wreck. He was tense and anxious, spending weeks with the thought in his mind.

Is it too soon? Is it appropriate? Would she even say yes?

But with a push from his mother, Harry decided. He was going to propose.

Of course, the thought ran through his mind that after only knowing her for ten months, he was so sure he wanted (Y/N) as more than just a girlfriend. And he simply just knew. Harry loved her more than he’d ever loved another woman and the relationship she had with his daughter was something that pushed him even further. She was all Harry and Lucy needed.

As a couple of weeks went on from Lucy calling (Y/N) mum, Harry dared to ask her to move in. (Y/N) told him that it was a huge step she wasn’t ready to take, and he understood that. She preferred they would take another big step before she was fully in his and Lucy’s life and what’s more official than a proposal, right?

So, there was one thing Harry needed to do before proposing.

Ask for Lucy’s approval.

“Hey, bub?” Harry called out from the kitchen, finally drying his hands from washing all the dishes. Lucy came skipping from the living room, approaching her father with a sweet smile, “Why don’t we come to the couch so we can have a little conversation?”

Harry took a seat on the couch first, Lucy quickly following and jumping in, sitting on top of her legs with her eyes attentively on Harry.

“Y’remember how I told you why people get married when you asked why Ariel and Prince Eric got married?”

The little girl nodded, “Mhm, because they loved each other so much that they wanted to be together happily ever after.”

“That’s right, pet. Well, I ask you because as you know, I love (Y/N) very much, and she loves me very much too. I was thinking that we could surprise her with a very pretty ring and as her to marry us. What do you think?”

Lucy’s eyes instantly lit up, bouncing on the couch. “Yes, daddy! I love mummy very much too.”

Harry chuckled, feeling a relief that Lucy was okay with bringing her in though it was obvious she loved (Y/N) like a mum. He was the luckiest man on earth.

With just enough time, Gemma finally somehow got (Y/N)’s ring size and he was a man on a mission. His sister made sure her nails were done and that she’d pick out the prettiest white dress she could find.

Everything was ready but Harry was jittery and afraid. During times like these, he knew one thing that could calm him down.

“Harry, you’re being ridiculous. She loves you both so much! She’s not going to say no.”

Harry sighed into the phone, closing his eyes and biting on his bottom lip, a velvety small box in his other hand.

“I can’t help it. I just hope she loves us as much as we love her. And that she likes this ring because it took my forever to pick it.”

Anne’s laugh was heard over the phone, a small sigh following. “Oh, son. She’d like it even if it were a pink plastic ring. I promise everything will be okay, yeah? Make sure your sister records and sends me everything! Love you guys!”

--

Gemma made sure to keep (Y/N) for the majority of her day while she prepared Harry’s backyard for the proposal and got Lucy ready in her own little pink dress and put up her curly hair into a pretty ponytail.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect, just like (Y/N).

(Y/N) on the other hand was quite clueless of it all. Gemma had asked her to go out and find herself a smile white dress and get all pretty because she planned an all-white dinner over at her house. She ended finding a knee length white satin, spaghetti strap dress with a soft ruffle by the knees and a pair of nude red strappy heels.

She made it home in time to get ready with enough time since Harry asked her to be at his house by 7:30 so they could head out at 8.

(Y/N) was done even earlier than he requested so she thought she could show up to his house sooner and wait for him to finish up or help Lucy get ready.

Her closed fist came up to knock on the door softly, holding her small clutch close to her body as she waited for Harry to answer.

Once the door opened, she was greeted by Gemma instead that was dressed way too casual which made a confused expression was over (Y/N)’s face.

“Gem? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready or finishing up at your place?”

Instead of an answer, she grabbed the woman’s hand and helped her in before closing the door behind them.

“Shh. Forget about me. Be a darling and please go get Lucy from the backyard. She won’t listen to Harry. Oh, give me your purse. I’ll hold it for you.”

(Y/N) glanced at her quizzically before handing her the clutch and walking towards the backyard, ready to call out for Lucy but as soon as her small hand wrapped around the knob and she opened the door to reveal the sight before her, her mouth opened wide as a gasp left her body.

The backyard was all decorated in red rose petals and small candles, leading a pathway to a big red heart where Harry and Lucy stood by, holding hands with a big “Marry Me?” behind them.

(Y/N) felt her eyes watering already as she walked closer to them, hand over her mouth in disbelief.

“My love…” Harry called out, holding her hand once she was finally in front of them.

“(Y/N)… you have no idea how happy you make me. I can’t explain how much I love you and especially for the way you love me and Lucy. We are so lucky to have you in our lives and could not imagine it without you.” Harry took the position, kneeling on one knee, Lucy right beside him as he opened the small box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

And just perfectly, Harry and Lucy asked (Y/N),

“Will you marry us?”

(Y/N) nodded as tears spilled from her eyes, Harry smiling widely while he took the ring from the box and slipped it on to her finger, “Yes! A million times, yes!” Harry stood up, wrapping his hands around her waist as their lips connected in a sweet kiss, (Y/N) then letting go of him to lean down and give Lucy a big hug and a kiss on her cheek, “I love you so so much, my little bub. I promise to be such a good mum and to take such good care of you.”

Gemma stood secretly by the door, capturing the beautiful moment in her phone before cutting it soon to allow them privacy for the rest of the evening, “Alright, honey bunches! Off with me you go! Tomorrow you can spend the whole day with daddy and mummy! Come on!” Lucy gave Harry and (Y/N) one big hug before scurrying off with her aunt, leaving the newly engaged couple alone.

--

(Y/N) and Harry made it up to his room miraculously. They kissed the whole way up, hands roaming all over each other franticly as if they’d never touched each other before.

Harry hovered over (Y/N) once they finally reached the bed, his eyes now blown with lust, ready to make love to his fiancé. “Can’t believe I’m about to fuck my soon to be wife.”

A giggle escaped (Y/N)’s lips, a soft shake from her head. “As if you haven’t before.” Harry shrugged, licking his lips slowly as his hands slowly and teasingly scrunched the dress up her body until it was off and man, was he pleased to find that she was absolutely bare under that dress. Now, Harry was about to go feral. She was way too fucking perfect.

“Any last words, baby?” Harry dramatically asked.

“Use me. Ruin me. Pleasing you is my only purpose.”

Harry was done for. Absolutely fucking spent.

His hands were frantic as he removed his clothes, feeling free once his boxers weren’t imprisoning his hard cock.

“Fucking hell, baby. Look at you. I’ve barely touched y’and your pussy is dripping.” Harry’s hand ran up her legs and thighs, opening her thighs wide as he positioned his face in front of her drenched cunt, giving it one bold lick as he was dying to have her taste on his tongue. “Beg for it. Tell me what you need, angel.”

“Your cock, please! I need you inside, baby. Wanna feel you stretch me out so good.”

“Such a good girl for me, always obeying daddy’s request and being nothing but a cock whore. Is that what you are, baby? A whore for daddy’s cock?”

(Y/N) moaned at Harry’s words, feeling needy and desperate to feel him buried balls deep inside of her. “Answer me, petal or we’ll stop right now.” She moaned out again, nodding softly as she looked down, her eyes begging for her too. “Yes, daddy. Such a whore for your big cock.” She knew exactly how to stroke his ego with praises. It drove him wild.

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear.” Harry swiftly turned her body around so she’d be laying on her stomach, her back immediately arching to bring her ass up to the air, tempting Harry to bring his hand up to the air and strike her bare ass, so he did just that which elicited a half moan half gasp to come out of his fiancé.

“You like that, huh princess? Like feeling daddy having his way with you, fucking that tight little pussy like it was made just for me?”

Before she could even come up with a coherent sentence, Harry was straddling the back of her thighs and thrusting his cock into her dripping cunt, a loud moan coming from both of them. Harry’s hand gripped tightly on her ass, the other one running up her back to grab a fistful of her hair close to her head, so it’d hurt less, but just enough to where she liked that.

“Fuck, angel. ‘S like your cunt was made jus’ for me. Look at you, taking daddy so good with no complaints.” Harry groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back momentarily before looking back down to smack her ass even harder than before, loving how her skin was turning bright pink in the shape of his big hand.

“Yes, daddy! I’m made just for you. Fuck!”

They both knew that to be true. They knew each other’s bodies perfectly and it was no doubt in mind that they were meant to be.

“Can feel you so close, princess. Clenching so tight around me. Fuck, baby. Wait for daddy, so we could cum together.”

(Y/N) was panting, face smushed against the bed, her moans being slightly muffled against the sheets. Harry hips held no mercy, fucking into her hard and fast, feeling his own release close.

Before Harry, (Y/N) had never met anyone who could throw her around and fuck her like a ragdoll. She had no idea it’d be something she’d like so much. But at this point, she’d try absolutely anything with Harry.

Their bodies were in pure synchrony, both releasing hard at the same time like an unspoken rule.

Harry’s chest was heaving, his hips sloppily thrusting until his release was over, still inside her as he plopped his chest against her back once his knees couldn’t hold him up any longer, looking for her hand to weave their fingers together. (Y/N) was still panting, feeling spent and like she’d probably need a new uterus. But nothing was better than this. Harry still wanting to be all over her after fucking the life out of her. It was sweet and caring to her.

“I love you so much, baby.”

A smile crept onto (Y/N)’s lips, sighing happily as her eyes closed. This was the life she wanted. The life she deserved.

--

HERE’S WHAT I IMAGINED HIS BACKYARD LOOKED LIKE

taglist: @mouthfulloftoothpastehs​ @imavirginhoe​ @camflowervol6​ @evanjh​ @peaceandloverry​ @majasophieanna​ @sunflowervolume66​ @petticoatedgal​

[marvelous-harry]

heyy ur doing blurb night and maybe my thingy got flooded or sun but i really want a blurb on h/flo/y/n joining flo in a live stream maybe cooking with flo?

+ Another Flossie x Harry x reader... r wants to help cooking and cuts herself with a knife? Little angst/fluff because r can't handle blood...

Cooking With Flo Harry/Florence/Reader Words: 2.5K Warnings: Mentions of blood, passing out. Summary: You join Florence for a 'Cooking with Flo' livestream... It ends in tears, blood, and lots of cuddles.

"I'm so excited! I haven't joined you on a Cooking with Flo in forever!" I grinned as I jumped up and took a seat on the counter.

Florence unpacked the groceries, putting away all the things we didn't need. "Should be fun. Been a while since I've done a live too," she smiled as she doubled checked she had everything. "Could you go remind Harry we will be going live in a bit so if he could keep the volume down that would be great,"

"Sure," I replied and jumped down off the counter. Walking up the stairs, I knocked on his office door and waited for his reply.

"Yeah?" he called out.

Opening the door, I skipped over to him. "We just wanted to remind you that we will be going live on Instagram in a few minutes so please don't shout anything inappropriate but if you wanted to take off your shirt and walk around in the background it would greatly improve our numbers of viewers," I grinned.

Harry chuckled and pulled me onto his lap, tickling my sides. "You're very cheeky you know that?" he said as he looked at me.

"I don't even know what that means," I replied innocently, grasping his hands tightly to stop him from tickling me more.

"Sure you don't. Alright, I'll be quiet but I will keep my shirt on, thank you very much," Harry smiled as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

I sighed. "Shame," I told him before getting up. "You're free to join us if you want," I added, giving him a kiss on the lips.

"Thank you, baby," he smiled back. "You can leave the door open,"

Going back downstairs, I rolled up the sleeves on my hoodie and clapped my hands together as I stepped into the kitchen. "Let's cook some shit!"

Florence finished tying on her apron. "Please try and don't swear too much during this," she said as she gestured me over, grabbing another apron off the counter.

"I promise," I chuckled as I walked over and let her put the apron on me before spinning around so she could tie it up in the back.

"Okay, go wash your hands and we'll get started," Florence once again checked she had put everything out as I went to wash my hands.

Drying them on a kitchen towel, I let her know I was ready.

Florence started up the live stream and waved at her phone that was propped up against a bag of flour. "Hello everyone, hi!" she said excitedly as she watched everyone joining.

"So we thought we would do a little cooking with Flo today!" she smiled as she read all the comments. "I of course have my lovely assistant with me,"

I grinned as I leaned into the frame, standing close to her as I waved at the phone. "Hi!"

"Okay, we will be making a dish called creamy pasta primavera. We've had it many times and it's always a hit," Florence explained as she put her hand around my waist.

I nodded. "It's super good. It's healthy but it doesn't taste healthy, you know?" I told them.

"What do you mean doesn't taste healthy? What does healthy taste like?" Florence laughed as she looked at me.

"You know! Healthy taste like kale or a green smoothie or something. Disgusting," I replied with a grimace on my face.

"Oh shush!" she said and bumped me with her hip. "Should we start the actual cooking?" she asked, looking between me and the phone.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” I replied and put my hands on my hips as I took a step back.

“Since we love this dish so much I will be doubling the recipe so the first thing we’re going to do is get a big pot, fill it up with water, and put it on so it will start boiling,” Florence explained as she pointed to the pot she had already picked out.

Grabbing the pot, I walked over to the sink and started filling it with water.

“For the vegetables, we will be using up some we had lying around from previous meals this week so we have some different coloured bell peppers, a bit of broccoli, half a can of sweet corn, some zucchini, and a few carrots. I’ll probably throw some onion and some garlic in as well cause it’s just so tasty,” Florence said as she picked up the phone and filmed over the vegetables.

“The heavy cream and the parmesan cheese is still in the fridge for now,” she explained as she put the camera back against the flour bag.

“Is this enough water?” I asked as the pot was filled about ¾ of the way.

Florence came over and looked. “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you, darling,” she smiled.

Grinning back, I picked the heavy pot up and put it on the stove, turning the plate on to the highest setting before grabbing the salt grinder and putting some into the water.

“Wonderful, while that starts heating up we have some chopping to do! I’m just going to get the frying pan out and start heating up some olive oil in it real quick,” Florence said as she turned around.

Walking over to the phone, I smiled as I read some of the comments coming in. “Oh! Deb! Hi Deb!” I waved excitedly at the phone. “Flossie! Your mum is watching!” I told her, glancing back at her before looking back at the phone. “I can’t wait for our lunch! I’m so excited,” I said and waited to see if she would write anything more. “Call me or text me later so we can chat,” I told her as the comments started going by really quickly.

Florence came back over and looked at the comments as well. “Hi mum!” she said and did a little wave. “You can also text or call me but I know she’s your favorite. Can’t blame you, look at her cute face!” she gushed as she pinched my cheek.

“Flossie!” I whined and pulled away.

She just chuckled and turned her attention back to the phone. “Right! Chopping!” Florence said and clapped her hands together. “I’ve got you your own chopping board and knife right next to me,”

Standing in front of it, I grabbed the onion and put it on her board. “I don’t want to chop that. I’ll chop zucchinis,” I said and pulled them into the middle of my chopping board.

“That’s fine,” Florence smiled. “We’re just going to be cutting them into smallish pieces. Not too small cause we want that crunch and flavour to remain quite a bit as we cook it and mix it in with the pasta. Obviously, you can cut them into the size you prefer,”

Cutting the zucchinis into halves, I poked my tongue out as I started cutting them into long lines.

“As with most of my recipes, it’s a dish I learned from my dad. He would usually have some sort of beef meat or sausage with it but I really do like this with just the veggies in it,” Florence told as she made quick work of chopping up the onion and putting it into the frying pan to start sweating them.

As I started cutting the zucchinis into small bites, I glanced up at the phone before taking a sharp breath as I felt a flash of pain. Dropping the knife, I grasped my hurt hand tightly. “Flossie,” I whimpered and stared at the blood that was showing.

Florence whipped her head around and looked at me. “Did you cut yourself?” she asked as she rushed over and looked at my hands.

“Yes,” I whimpered and felt slightly light-headed.

“Okay, look up, take deep breaths. I’m going to put a kitchen towel around your hand,” Florence said calmly as she kept an eye on me while grabbing a clean kitchen towel off the counter and putting it around my hand.

I looked towards the hallway as I heard Harry running down the stairs. “I cut myself,” I said quietly as I looked at him scared.

“Yeah, I saw that. You okay?” he asked as he came over. “Come on, let’s go sit down in the living room,” he looked at the camera and did a quick little smile before keeping me steady as we walked into the living room.

“Is it bad?” I asked squeezed my eyes shut and sniffled. “I’m sorry for ruining the live stream, Flossie,” I whimpered and felt a tear running down my cheek.

“Oh, darling. You didn’t ruin anything, don’t worry about that,” Florence said as she wiped away the tear and stroked my cheek gently. “I’m going to go turn it off and then I’ll come right back okay?”

“You don’t have to stop for me,” I cried, feeling super guilty.

“I want to, darling,” she smiled and pressed a kiss to my cheek before walking quickly back into the kitchen.

Letting out a sob, I leaned against Harry as he pulled me into his lap.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m going to lift away the kitchen towel and have a look,” Harry murmured as he rocked me back and forth just slightly. “Look away or close your eyes, yeah?”

I nodded and kept my eyes firmly shut as I turned my head against his chest.

“Good girl, that’s it,” Harry praised me as he started lifting away the kitchen towel, putting it under my hand. “Can you take your other hand away, please? I need to have a look at the cut, baby,” he said as he stroked my hand.

I shook my head as I gripped my hurt thumb tighter. “No!” I whimpered and let out another sob. “I’m scared,” I cried, leaning on him.

“I know, it’s okay. We’re going to fix you up, baby,” Harry comforted me. “Could you get the first aid kit?” he asked as Florence came back.

“Can you look up at me?” he asked as he cupped my cheek and tilted my head a bit.

Whimpering, I opened my eyes and looked at him.

He gave me a little smile as he stroked my cheek. “Florence is getting the first aid kit. Then we’re going to have a look, we’re going to clean it and bandage it up. Three nice little steps. We’ll be so gentle and go as quick as we can,” he explained.

I couldn’t help but let out another sob. “Is there a lot of blood?” I asked as I heaved for my breath.

“No, there’s not a lot of blood. Just a little. The normal amount,” he said as Florence pulled the coffee table close to the couch and took a seat on it.

“How about you and me stay just like this and Florence has a look at your hand, baby? Is it your thumb that’s hurt?” he asked as he glanced over at Florence.

“I think so,” I replied with a sniffle.

“I need you to let it go now,” Harry nodded as he kept stroking my cheek and keeping eye contact with me. “If you want to hold something you can hold on to my shirt or the kitchen towel,” he added.

Slowly letting go of my thumb, I whimpered as I could feel the blood pumping in it, pain spreading. “No, it’s not good!” I cried and went to grab it again.

Harry shifted me around slightly so he could hold me close and grab my good hand, keeping it away from my thumb. “Keep looking at me, I promise everything is fine,” he said as I whined.

Florence grabbed my wrist firmly to keep it still. “Darling, I’m going to gently hold the tip of your thumb and turn your hand a bit,” she told me.

“Is there a lot of blood? Is it deep?” I asked as I tried to take a deep breath. “I bet there’s a lot of blood,” I mumbled as I started feeling faint again. Whimpering, as I blinked quickly as black dots appeared, I gripped Harry’s hand tightly.

“Baby? Take deep breaths, yeah?” Harry said and shook me slightly.

“She’s out,” Harry said and held you close.

Florence glanced up at your face and quickly grabbed the wound cleanser from the box and opened it. “Right, I’ll try and clean this up real quick then,” she said as she poured some over the cut, using the kitchen towel to get the blood off around the fingers and sanitizing the wound.

She had almost cleaned away all the blood and had checked the cut and decided that bandaging it would be enough, no need for strips or stitches when you started coming to.

Groaning, I took a deep breath as I opened my eyes and looked at Harry.

“Hi, baby,” he smiled as he let go of my hand so he could stroke a hand over my hair before stroking his thumb back and forth over my cheek again. “How you feeling?” he asked.

“Did I pass out?” I asked, trying to not think about what Florence was doing.

Harry nodded. “Just for a bit. Maybe for a minute or so,” he smiled.

“Your thumb looks good, darling. Just going to clean it a bit more than we can put a little bandage on,” Florence said as she kept cleaning the blood off.

“No hospital?” I asked as I sucked in my bottom lip and bit down on it.

“No hospital,” Florence replied as she gave my hand a squeeze before getting the bandage. She quickly put some gauze over the cut before wrapping a little bandage around it and securing it with some tape. “There you go! All done. Just going to clean up your other hand now,” she smiled as she picked up the kitchen towel that was quite damp with the wound cleanser and just cleaned away most of the blood with that.

“Let’s get this apron off, you’ll be more comfortable without it on,” Harry said as Florence put the bloody kitchen towel behind her.

“Okay,” I replied and slowly sat up a bit as Harry reached behind me and undid the knot and with the help of Florence took it off. Florence quickly looked at my hoodie to see if there was any blood on it but couldn’t see anything.

“How about we order some pizza for dinner? Does that sound nice? We can have the pasta tomorrow,” Florence said as she packed up the first aid kit.

I nodded. “Sorry I ruined dinner,” I whispered as I moved around a bit so I could cuddle Harry more.

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling,” Florence smiled as she gave me a little kiss. “Now you cuddle Harry as much as you can cause once I’ve put this away and ordered the pizza it’s my turn,” she said as she grinned.

“Okay,” I replied and wrapped my hands around him tightly as I listened to Harry and Florence jokingly fighting over who should get to cuddle me. Smiling, I closed my eyes and enjoyed Harry’s cuddles for now, full well knowing Florence would win their little ‘fight’.

[boldlyvoid]

Sugar, Honey, Ice Tea | Chapter 5-9

1Summary: Fix-it-fic: Dr. Y/L/N and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prison, Prison Violence, Assault, Blood, Depression, Murder, Self-Hatred, Hurt Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drug Addiction, References to Drugs, Drug Use, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Forbidden Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Requited Love, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, past abusive relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

Word Count: 14.3K

1-4, 5-9, Epilogue

Chapter 5

Spencer agreed to a Thursday night game night in her office sometime last week, and she’s spent every day since then planning it out for him.

Learning that he really loved Tandoori chicken, making it from scratch at home and packaging it into a couple containers to bring into work. She followed a recipe from Pinterest, hoping it bared any resemblance to what he was used to, only changing full chicken to boneless bite size cutlets, because he couldn’t use a knife in the prison.

She got a chess set at the store, as well as a deck of playing cards for the Vegas boy. Rushing out her door early Thursday morning so she could stop and get a coffee and one of his favourite doughnuts too.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to tell him how she felt any time soon, just wanting to show him friendship and support until he was finally out of prison. Vowing to uphold her oath, he was a patient in her care, she would care for him as such until he wasn’t.

She carefully placed her lunchbox and the chess set on the security desk, letting them look through it as she waited. Taking out all the food from her bag, looking through the plastic to ensure she wasn’t sneaking in anything.

“It’s just my lunch for the next 2 days, I promise,” she smiled.

“I know, but I have to look anyway,” the nice man smiled. “Have a good day today Dr. Pat.”

“Thank’s, you too, officer Kyle,” she smiled, picking her things back up and heading past the gates.

Spencer was turning the corner towards the infirmary as she walked towards the door. Officer Wilkins holding him in handcuffs as he roughly walked Spencer to her office.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she stopped, looking at Wilkins like he was an idiot. “Un-cuff inmate Reid, he’s not a threat. Plus, he can hold some things for me.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, roughly taking the cuffs off Spencer's wrists before leaving. Not saying another word.

“What a dick,” she mumbled as she handed him the lunchbox.

“Good morning Spencer,” she changed her tone to match her growing smile.

He sighed, smiling back as he rubbed his wrists. “Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

She opened the infirmary door, walking past all the sleeping men in the care area. Unlocking her office before inviting Spencer in. “Sorry I was almost late,” she said softly, taking the chess set and a brown paper bag out of her purse.

She set it on Spencer's desk along with the coffee that was in her hand, “for all your help this week,” she smiled.

Spencer placed her lunchbox in her fridge, laying a hand on her back as he walked past her towards his desk. “You’re too kind to me,” he was bashful as always.

“I have something I wanted to talk to you about,” she closed the door softly, making sure the blinds on the doors window were closed as well.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he tried to joke as he sat down.

“I asked to help with your case, maybe give a fresh opinion, so Penelope sent me all the files but I haven’t opened them yet,” she sat on the edge of her desk. Trying to read his body language as he took out his donut.

He liked the pink frosting off his finger, nodding as he followed along. “Why not?”

“I wanted your permission,” she pressed her lips together in an awkward smiled. His eyes raising to meet hers, innocent as ever.

“Oh?”

“You’re very reserved, you have rules about what you share, I don’t want to break the trust we’ve built by looking into something so intimate,” she explained her thoughts. “It’s not fair for me to learn about the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, without you being the one to tell me.”

“What do you know already?” He asked softly, blinking at her as he patiently waited.

She smiled at him softly, grateful that he understood. “I know the 3 charges that you’re in on, and that you’re being framed.”

“I think I would prefer it if you read the file and just asked me questions. I don’t think I have the mental capacity to recite it all back to you today,” he was honest. Taking a sip of his coffee and looking away from her.

Giving up so much of himself to her so early in the day, she felt like he was finally comfortable with her.

She found the key to his thoughts and it opened just right, she could see the hurt that flowed through him, but she could also see the happiness. The side of him that he was afraid to bring out, in fear it would get him in more trouble.

“Okay,” she agreed. Sitting at her desk and finally opening the email form Penelope.

She read through his tox-screens, his drug history, his mental state. His first-hand accounts, witness statements, clues and findings his team had made. It all felt like the plot to a bad movie about revenge, possibly even female rage. But for what?

“I finished reading,” she said softly, brows furrowed as she chews the inside of her cheek. “Do you know anyone other than this Mr. Scratch guy who you’ve put away, wronged, lead on, or just pissed off?”

“Why?” He asked, clearly attached to the idea this was all Mr. Scratch’s doing.

“It feels like revenge, but very well planed. Like a women is mad at you so she found your weakness, I’ve done mean shit to exes in the past but this is insane. They knew you’d do anything for your mom, they knew your drug history, and the fact you might get schizophrenia one day, they wanted to drug you and make you think you did all this.”

Spencer stood then, listening to her words as he scrunched his face. Thinking as hard as he could, “can you call Penelope?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she dialled her number, putting her on speaker phone.

“Well hello there, Love Doctor,” Penelope teased as she answered.

“Um hi, Spencer wanted to talk to you,” she panicked.

“Oh, sorry, how are you Spencer?”

Spencer looked so confused, “I’m good… Y/N and I were looking at the case files you sent-”

“Good, did you find anything?” Penelope cut in, eager to talk to him.

“Have you looked into everyone I’ve ever encountered on a case? Specifically women?” Spencer asked. “I told my lawyer and Emily that I remember a woman being there and helping, she must know me from a case too, like the other prison escapees he’s helped?”

“On it pretty boy, any specifics about her that you remember?” Penelope asked over the sound of her keyboard clicking away.

“Long brown hair, but it’s probably different now,” he added. “Everything else is dark, I didn’t see her face or any other features.”

“Alright, call me anytime Spence, I miss you,” Penelope said softly, changing her tone to a more sensitive one. “Take care of each other, my loves.”

“Love you,” they say at the same time. Looking at each other awkwardly after she hung up, leaving them to sit with their words alone.

Spencer was leaning so close to her she could feel his body heat radiating off him. Spencer placed his hand on her shoulder as he stood straight, towering over her as she looked up at him.

“I have patients to talk to, but I brought chess for you to teach me later,” she smiled up at him.

“Can’t wait,” he beamed a smile back.

She felt his hand rub the back of her blue scrubs lightly, pulling away as he walked back around to his desk. She watched him with careful eyes, wishing he would have stayed longer.

—

Normally at 4:30, Y/N would bring Spencer a tray of whatever the kitchen was serving her patients for dinner that night. Tonight, however, she walked into her office at 5 pm on the dot, closing the clinic for the night and putting all her attention on Spencer.

“So,” she smiled as she leaned against her office door, excitement radiating out of her. “A little birdie told me that you really like Indian food, Tandoori chicken to be exact…”

“No way?” He gasped as he turned around in his chair.

She nodded with a cheeky grin, “homemade so I could sneak it in.”

She took her lunch box out of her mini-fridge, opening it up to show him the 2 Tupperware containers. One for him, the other for her. She took the lids off and dished it onto 2 plates she keeps in the cabinet above the fridge.

Spencer grew more and more excited as she warmed it up, filling the room with a familiar smell. He was so happy, “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you do for me?”

“Come here,” she said softly, watching him walk towards her carefully.

She wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him in a hug. He carefully placed his hands on her back, holding her against his chest as he snuggled his cheek into her hair again.

“I’ll take hugs as payment from now on,” she pulled back from him as the microwaved beeped.

Taking a plastic spoon from the cutlery jar, she opened the microwave and handed him a plate. “Did you want to stay in here or go to the break room? I never use it cause I don’t have any co-workers, but it has a couch and a coffee table?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking the plate from her and waiting for her to warm up her own meal before taking a bite.

He was ever the gentleman.

Y/N reached back into her lunch box, taking out the package of naan bread, seeing Spencer’s eyes basically roll into the back of his head. “You thought of everything?”

“Bread is my life,” she laughed.

When her food was ready, she placed it on top of the chess box and led the way down to the break room. Spencer holding every door for her.

She flicked on the lights in the break room, watching them strobe before making that awful powering up frequency. She groaned, putting her food on the table before turning on a few lamps instead.

The room went from bright and anxious to relaxed and personal, the amber glow bouncing off the cream walls, it was nice. As nice as it could be in a prison. She never thought she’d be having a date at a prison.

That’s basically what this was, a date.

She made him dinner, they were going to play games, he was going to sit right beside her, close enough to kiss. She really wanted to, she’s thought about it a lot, his pink lips were perfect and she just wanted to see how they’d feel between her own.

But she wont.

“Dig in honey,” the name rolled over her tongue like it was always meant to.

She felt his eyes on her right away, realizing that she called him honey in a situation where he wasn’t crying, where he wasn’t vulnerable. She said it as a term of endearment, she couldn’t stop the embarrassment form settling in her veins.

She sat beside his softly, picking up her dinner and pretending it didn’t happen. “Thank you,” Spencer cut into the awkwardness.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly. Feeling like she could flip inside out at any moment.

From the corner of her eye she saw him take the first bite, closing his eyes as he appreciated the moment. His shoulders settled as he chewed, she could swear he almost moaned as he ate it. She has had the food in the cafeteria before, she understood his reaction.

“That good?” She asked, teasing him softly.

He nodded, silent as he took it all in. He took another bite, and another, she felt like he was going to get the hiccups at this rate but it was too cute to stop. He was like a stray dog eating inside for the first time in months, it made her happy and then a little sad.

He stayed quiet the whole time. Crossing his legs as he sat on the couch, the plate pulled in close to his chest as he shovelled spoonfuls of food into his mouth. She sat there admiring him as he did so, falling more and more every time she glanced at him.

“That was delicious,” Spencer said as he stood, placing his plate on the counter across the room. “Are you done?” He asked, taking her plate as she reached it out to him.

“Yeah, thanks,” she watched him carefully, always wanting to help her in whatever way he could.

He didn’t sit on the couch when he came back, instead, sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, taking the chess set out and beginning to set it up. Not wanting to miss a moment of the freedom he felt when he was with her.

“So, chess is pretty easy to learn,” he said, looking up at her through thick eyelashes as he spoke. “Do you know any of the rules yet?”

“Um, I know where they all go, I know that you can’t go through other pieces and the horse gets to jump?” She tried to remember all the way back to grade 4, the last time someone explained the rules to her.

He was so soft with her, explaining the rules and showing her what to do. His hand would lightly brush over hers occasionally, eventually, he’d just guide her hand over the pieces that she should move. It was so nice to just be alone with him, knowing they were both allowed to be happy.

The room was mostly silent, only the sound of Spencer's advice and her giggle as she still wasn’t grasping the concept of the game.

“I just like, don’t care about the rules?” She couldn’t stop giggling at the fact she wasn’t picking up on anything he said.

Spencer laughed, it was deep and hearty, right from his soul, “then how do you want to play?”

She picked up the queen and moved it to a random spot, “I want to put this here and fight your guy. That’s why I don't get this, what is my XP? What are their skills? I was raised on Pokemon, honey.”

He made his way back to the couch, sitting closely beside her. “Well sugar pie, do you have any other games you want to play?”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and pressing her lips against his. His hands wrapped around her waist on instinct as they connected.

It was everything she imagined. Soft, gentle, refreshing. Like a cold glass of ice tea on a hot summers day. She wanted more, never letting up as she kissed him.

Spencer was the one to pull off first, “shit,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand as she stared at him, horrified.

He laughed, smiling at her softly. “It’s okay,” he promised, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

She doesn’t stop him from pulling her back in, holding her hand on his cheek as he kissed her again. Hungrier than before, Spencer’s tongue was on a mission. He tastes like dinner, but with his own Spencer difference.

Kissing him felt like a fairytale coming true.

She forgot where they were, his hands on the back of her scrubs and her hands in his hair as their mouths clashed. She started to lay back on the couch, pulling him down on top of her.

“We can't,” he pants against her lips. Regretting it as he pulls away from her.

“Sorry, this was unprofessional I know,” she tried to play it off.

Spencer pulled her back in, flush against his chest once more. “No, I don’t regret it. It’s just, I’m not ready.”

“Oh,” she says softly. Then it clicks, “oh, oh my god, Spencer I’m so sorry I forgot. I didn’t mean to push you into anything,” she worries, running her hands over his arms softly.

He shakes his head, “you didn’t. I want to, believe me, I just don’t think I can handle the after part…”

“I cried for 3 hours after I had sex again, after everything,” she told him in complete honesty. Not even Savannah or Derek knew that.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” she assured him. “You shouldn’t have to be the only vulnerable one here, I want you to know about me.”

“You don’t have to tell me the details, I don’t want to think about someone hurting you,” he whispered, his eyes innocently studying her face for how she was feeling.

“Okay, so here’s everything else,” she was still holding his face in her hands. Rubbing her thumb over his cheeks. “I had 2 moms and a little sister, and I was raised in Boston. I met Savannah in 2004, I worked with her until a few years ago. She’s my best friend, Derek is like my big brother.”

She gave him the basics, “I don’t have a dad, my mom used the same donor for me and my sister, so I’ve never really felt safe around men because I never knew many.”

“Understandable,” he smiled softly. “what’s your mom like?”

“She died when I was 26,” she pressed her lips together awkwardly. “I haven’t talked to her wife since then, my other mom, she remarried not long after. I think she was cheating on my mom when she was going through chemo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“I can relate to a lot of the stories I know about you already. My mom was my world, I don’t know my dad. I’ve been hurt by people, I’ve lost a lot of myself while trying to help others,” she brushed her nose against his softly. Letting him know she wasn’t pulling back any time soon. “Who you are is not what you did, or what you’ve been through.”

He kisses her again softly. Breathing in through his nose lightly, his hand on her back pulling her in closer and closer. He didn’t want to let her go, and she was more than happy staying in his embrace forever.

He pulled back softly, “I lied to you.” He whispered against her lips.

“When?” She asked, scared to know the answer.

“I do remember you from Derek’s wedding, he told me about you a long time ago. I told him I was ready for dating again when you told him about Mark,” he couldn’t look at her.

“That’s not a huge lie,” she smiled softly. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking at you all night, with that little blond boy. You two were so sweet, Mark got really mad at me for staring at you actually.”

“Derek told me when he hurt you, he came to my apartment right after so he wouldn’t go and kill him,” Spencer’s voice was so low she had to stare at his lips to understand him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she shook her head softly, kissing the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my cell,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

Breaking her heart in the process.

She kissed his cheeks and his lips a few times, peppering kisses to his soft face to make up for it. “We can’t do this again until you’re free,” she whispered.

“I understand.”

“So you better think long and hard about this woman you remember so I can track her down and shove her in that cell instead,” Y/N’s stern voice made him smile.

“Thank you,” he replied again, hugging her the way he promised he would thank her from now on.

—

For being 9 pm on a spring night, it was rather warm in the Vermont parking lot. She left the prison a while ago, not able to leave Spencer’s gravitational pull yet as she sat there, staring at the prison thinking about him alone in his cell instead of pressed against her chest for the rest of the night.

Thinking about the feeling of Spencer’s hands on her body and his tender lips. Her hand over her mouth as she remembered how his bottom lip ghosted over her own, the anticipation was enough to light her on fire.

She took out her phone and called Derek, knowing he would put her on speaker if they were already in bed for the night. Really needing her best friends right now.

“Hey kick-ass, how are you doing today?” Derek’s voice was overly cheery, “Hey!” Savannah added in the background.

“I’m in love with him.”

Chapter 6

She barely slept anymore. Waking up at 6 am every morning without her alarm clock, her heart physically aching to return to Spencer's side after a night without him. She felt like a love-sick school girl, wanting to be with him all day even if they had nothing to say. Just looking at him was enough to make her happy.

A few weeks passed. Weeks filled with smiles and laughter, singing and reading, inside jokes and shared jello cups. She was so madly in love with him, hugging him every morning when he arrived and every night before he left. Keeping her word, kissing him on the cheek every so often instead.

She started a routine of picking up a coffee and a donut for Spencer every single Thursday, worried that he probably thought about his case all night, yet again. Which only kept her up worrying all night about him, wondering if he was doing okay all alone.

Only getting sleep when she remembered that he had a photo of her, his mom, Derek and hank with him. He’d be okay.

She walked into the infirmary to find Jerry and Mike waiting for her with a guard. Mike bleeding all down his face while Jerry held his clearly broken hand.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” she sighed. Putting all her things in her office before coming back to care for them.

She excused the guard, telling him she had it from here. They wouldn’t put up any more fights with her, they looked up to her like a momma bear, and they were her terrible cubs.

“It is 7:33 am, who the fuck did you have to fight this early?” She whisper yelled at them. Not wanting to wake Leo in the care ward, “who is worth this?”

“You don’t want to know,” Mike said under his breath.

“Well clearly he’s not here, is he dead or in violent crimes? If you two fucked up our plan of me helping you during parole next year, I’m going to be pissed,” she tried her best to entice the answers out of them.

“It was Shaw,” Jerry said softly. “He was planning to hurt the new guy, he’s all fake buddy-buddy with him.”

“Excuse me?” She panicked.

“He’s been talking to Milos at night in the locker room, Wilkins lets him out of his cell and into gen-pop,” Mike carried on the story as she tried to clean the blood off his eyebrow.

“What are they going to do to Spence?”

“Spence?” Jerry teased her, poking her side. “I didn’t know he had a nickname already. Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“I’ve kept him locked away to be safe, I’m going to find a way to keep him here at night,” She said softly. “He’s best friends with my brother, I can’t let him get hurt.”

“So you knew him in freedom land?”

She nodded, “a little.”

“All you need is a bandaid,” she changed the subject as she reached into her kit. “And Jerry I’m going to have to set your fingers back in place, if you scream in my face, I will kick you in the nuts.”

They laughed at her fake tuff guy act, never actually being able to hurt them. They were her buddies, giving her a big hug after she finished with them. Getting them both a pudding and telling them to stay put for the day if they wanted to.

Spencer found her in the lab when he arrived, she knew it was him when the door opened, no one else had a passkey to get in. She was writing down some numbers on a chart when he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She dropped her pen and turned around in his grasp, holding his face in her hands immediately as she pulled him into a quick kiss.

“I thought you said I couldn’t do that again till I’m free?” He asked softly. Kissing her a second time as he finished.

She smiled against his lips, “you’re free when we’re alone.”

He kissed her harder. His hands around her waist as he picked her up slightly. Twirling her around as they kissed, she laughed against his skin. Unable to stop herself from smiling as she held onto him.

She kissed him one last time as he put her down on the floor, “I have a coffee and donut for you in my office.”

“You’re too good to me, Sugar Pie.”

“Anything for you, Honey Bunch,” she bit her lip as she smiled at him again. So absolutely overwhelmed with love for him.

“I actually have a serious question to ask you,” his tone changed, making her concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m still trying to figure out more about that night, and I think I want to try exposure therapy,” he explained. “I was wondering if you’d help me get high, so I can remember what happened in the same mindset.”

“Okay,” she nodded softly. “I can book you in for the night here, say you’re under observation, and I’ll stay here with you.”

“Are you sure?”

She kissed him softly again, looking up at him with a smile after. “If you’re sure about it, I’ll help you. But we need some ground rules.”

“Of course,” he agreed. Letting go of her as she stepped back, leaning against the counter now.

“No kissing, nothing like that, we’ll do it in my office so you can be alone and then later you’ll sleep in the observation room. Leo is in there, he’s harmless and sleeps all night on his morphine anyway,” she explained. “I’m not going to take advantage of you, I don’t want you to regret it. It’s going to be hard to sober up again once you get a taste of euphoria in here.”

He nodded along as she set the rules, “those are good. Thank you.”

“They drugged you with heroin, and while I know where to get some, I’m not letting you do that,” she laughed. “I have Dilaudid in pills and liquid morphine.” Letting him pick his poison.

“The pills will be fine,” he said softly.

“Alright,” she smiled. “And if you want, when you get out I can take you to a meeting? You’ll need to talk to someone other than me, someone who gets it.”

“You’ll stay with me after all this?”

“As long as you let me,” she felt her heart grow 3 sizes at the way his puppy dog eyes stared back at her. “Go have your breakfast and I will come to see you soon, okay honey?”

His smile was glorious, she could feel the love radiating off him as he looked at her. It felt wonderful, knowing at that moment her feelings weren’t one-sided. That he wanted her just as bad as she wanted him. He was going to be good to her.

—

She had mike and Jerry help her move the couch from the break room and into her office, allowing them to meet Spencer, finally. It was awkward at first, two big muscle men telling him how much they also loved their Sugar.

“Should we tell him?” Mike nudged Jerry.

“What?” Spencer asked softly, sitting at his desk on the other side of the room, really not enjoying their alpha energy.

“Shaw, Milos and Wilkins are all secretly buddies, they were planning to hurt you and so Mike and Jerry beat Shaw up in the yard,” she scrunched her face as she explained it, not ready for his reaction.

“How?”

“After they cut that kid's throat, they wanted to get you to run heroin for them. But you ended up in here, we heard them in gen-pop last night saying they wanted to get you,” Jerry explained as he played with the bandages on his hand. “He won't be out of the violent offender's infirmary for a while.”

“Thank you,” he replied to them with a pressed-lipped smile. “I need to call my team about the case.”

That was their queue to leave, Y/N patting them on the back for the help, telling them they could stay with Leo or go back to the yard, she didn’t care. They just couldn’t be in her office for this.

Spencer looked a little pissed off. “I didn’t ask them to do that,” she said, defensively.

“I’m not mad at you,” he shakes his head softly as steps into her space. “You’re the only person I can trust in here.”

She placed her hand on his chest softly, “call Penelope. Take your time on the phone with the team.” She handed him her cell phone, “FaceTime them if you want. See their faces, it’ll be okay.”

He hugged her, a silent thank you. She ran her hands over his back as she pressed her face into his neck. Holding back every instinct to tell him she loved him as she pulled away.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking her phone, “how do I?”

She couldn’t help laughing, “here,” she dialled Penelope’s cellphone number and hit the FaceTime button.

Seeing her beautiful, bright and bubbly face smile as she answered. “Hey! Oh my god, hold on,” they watched as she got up and ran down a hallway.

Spencer was instant giggles and smiles, a side of him she’s never seen before. True, pure love. This was his family, these were his people. She could see herself fitting into his little world one day.

“Guys! It’s Spencer!” She yelled as she ran into another room.

“What’s wrong?” “Is he okay?”

Suddenly she turned the phone sideways to show all his co-workers. “Hi!” He waved to them.

“Spence!” Emily and JJ cheered, “oh you look so good.”

“I feel good, how are you all?” He asked softly, taking her phone and sitting down at his desk.

She watched him softly from the door, slipping out when she saw his attention was fully on his past life. She walked down the hall towards the lab, hearing his laughter through the walls.

—

She placed 2 pills in a plastic cup, taking an apple juice and jello from the fridge for Spencer. She placed it on his desk 20 minutes before his shift ended, giving him a little space to decide when he wanted to. He told her that he get’s cold when he comes down from a high, so she leaves a fluffy blanket and a pillow on the couch before slipping back out of the room.

She returned to the care unit, looking over Leo as he got ready for the night. Administering his meds and wishing him a good night. She closed his curtain, so when Spencer eventually went to bed he wouldn’t be disturbed.

When she finally settled into her office for the night, Spencer was in the dark. Sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Hey,” he said softly.

“How are you?” She asked softly. Closing the door behind herself. Locking it and making sure all the blinds were closed.

“It’s going to hit soon,” he said softly. Suddenly embarrassed and closed off, hiding from her as he laid down.

She didn’t want to bother him, sitting at her desk with her reports. The light from the computer is just enough to see what she was looking at. She glanced at him every few minutes to make sure he was okay.

He enjoys it at first, a blissed-out look on his face as his head is tossed back against the couch. She knows the exact euphoria he’s feeling, she understood perfectly why someone would want to escape like that.

Then his face changes as he starts to hate it, he mumbles to himself with his eyes squeezed shut, she could see him gripping the sheets as he tries to force himself to remember.

She’s uncomfortable watching it, feeling like an intruder. She tried to only focus on her work, flipping through emails and Twitter, scrolling through Facebook for the first time in months to preoccupy her mind.

He was like that for at least an hour.

She could hear his teeth chattering as he came down, just like he said would happen. “You okay, honey?”

“Y-yeah,” he tried to speak through the shaking. “C-can we cuddle?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, turning on her desk lamp before joining him on the couch.

She pulled him up into a sitting position, sitting where his head once was and letting him settle into her lap. She ran her hands through his hair, combing through the locks as she shushed him. Running her hand up and down his back in a tender motion, he snuggled into her leg.

“I’m not that high anymore,” he says softly.

“I know, it’s okay if you are. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

It makes her stop. Her whole body stills at the words, he wanted to clarify so she’d know it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. She closes her eyes and squeezes them shut, biting her lip as she tries not to burst into tears.

He felt it too.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, “sit up.” She instructs him softly.

She laid down against the couch then, waiting for him to snuggle into her side. Wrapping the blanket around them both as they found the most comfortable position.

“Sorry,” he whispered against the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay, it just feels wrong for me to say it back right now. I feel the same, believe me, Spencer.” She wanted to assure him to the best of her ability. “But you’re still an inmate in my care, I can’t. Not yet.”

“You don’t have to,” he pulled back to look her in the eyes, his own still droopy from how tired the drugs made him. “I’m going to love you regardless.”

She broke her own rules. Kissing him softly, holding him close to her, under the blanket where both their body heat was trapped. She had never felt safer in her entire life.

Spencer only crawling into that bed in the care ward when he woke up to her alarm the following morning.

Chapter 7

There’s someone banging on her office door just a little after 8 am. She was in the middle of putting a new pair of scrubs on over her long-sleeve undershirt, the banging on her door doesn’t stop until she opens the door.

“What?” She yells at them.

It’s Officer Wilkins. “Where is inmate Reid? We have a visitor for him.”

“No one is scheduled to see him today?”

“There is now. Where is he?” The man towered over her. Trying his best to intimidate her.

“Care ward. I’ll get him. You can go wait in the waiting room,” she pushes past him. Watching him stumble as he hits the wall.

“He’s not worth dying over,” he whispers under his breath.

She doesn’t leave Reid’s side as Wilkins attempts to escort him to an interrogation room. Y/N stands in the observation room as Spencer waits, cuffed to the table. Looking through the mirror at each other, only he couldn’t see her. He just knew she would be there.

“Mom?” Spencer’s shocked voice breaks her out of her thoughts as she sees Diana walking into the room.

A dark-haired woman she’s never met before escorting her in. Y/N whips her phone out to take a quick photo before running back to her office as quickly as she can.

Y/N: I need you to check on Cassie, Diana’s nurse. Someone I don’t know just brought Diana to the prison.

She attached the photo she took, setting her phone down to looking through the visitor's logs on her computer. Wanting to know the name of the woman accompanying Diana.

“I’m sorry,” the familiar voice says from her doorway.

She looks up at him from her desk. Wilkins is stepping into her space with a look of guilt, taking his baton off his belt.

“You don’t have to do this,” she backed up against the wall, trying to keep as much distance from him as possible.

“I have to,” his tone changed. Like a personality switch, his eyes darkened as he charged at her.

She ran around the desk, watching him follow. Punching her in the face, causing her to fall back against the couch, she didn’t want him to get on top of her. Dropping to the carpeted floor as he dove onto the couch.

She crawled on the floor towards the door as he tried to get up. Standing as fast as she could, roundhouse kicking him in the face with a grunt. Her foot hit his jaw at just the right angle, rendering him unconscious.

She reached for his cuffs as soon as he hit the floor, “Leo!! Help!” She screamed down the hall.

She heard bare feet running down the hall, followed by the sound of rubber on linoleum. “Sugar??” Mike and Jerry yelled as they followed.

“Watch him,” she insisted once the cuffs were on him. “Hurt him if you have to.”

She took the second pair of cuffs off Wilkins's belt before running out of the room, her lip busted and bleeding down her neck.

She ran down the hall towards Spencer, busting into the room and knocking the nurse to the ground. Struggling to get her onto her stomach, “stop struggling, who the fuck are you?”

“Get off me!” She screamed in return.

Y/N cuffed her and pulled her to her feet, pushing her against the stone wall.

“What is going on?” Spencer stood up, cuffed to the table so he couldn’t help.

“Wilkins just attacked me, Diana wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said over her shoulder in Spencer’s direction. “So I’ll ask again,” she whispered in the woman's ear as she pushed her against the wall harder. “Who, the fuck! Are you?”

“He knows me,” she spat out.

Y/N ripped her off the wall, making her look at Spencer who was shocked, speechless as he tried to remember her face. “Who is she?”

“She told me Cassie was fired, she’s been with me all morning?” Diana tried to explain, slightly freaking out.

“I sent her photo to Penelope, I need a guard,” Y/N said, hauling the unknown women into the hall with her.

—

The prison was put on lockdown as they tried to figure out this security breach. Wilkins and the nurse being held in prison custody as they waited for the BAU team to fly in.

Figuring out that her name was Lindsay Vaughn, Spencer remembered as much as he could about her. How he tried to save her dad, losing him to his carnal need to kill. Lindsay following closely in her daddy's footsteps.

Diana sat at Spencer’s desk, Mike and Jerry stand watch at the door. Y/N was sitting on top of her desk in front of Spencer, it was his turn to run alcohol over her cuts. Holding her face in his hands as he cared for her.

“I'm sorry,” he mouths the words at her. Not wanting his mother to overhear them.

She nods in response, unable to smile as the cut on her lips stings. All things considered, she could have been in a lot worse condition if it wasn’t for Derek and her training.

She wants to kiss him, she can tell he’s looking over her shoulder at his mom. Waiting to make sure she’s not looking before he leans in a little closer.

Pressing their lips together as silently as possible, his eyes still on her’s as they did so. It’s the most tender kiss she’s ever had, “I’m okay Spence,” she said softly as he pulled back.

“I’m still sorry you were dragged into this,” holding her against his chest softly.

From where she was sitting on top of her desk, she placed her head on his chest, holding him as close as she could, his cheek resting on her head. She wrapped her legs around him, not wanting to let him go, ever.

Needing the comfort he brought her, now more than ever.

When Derek and she started training again it was mostly to help her feel safe. To know what to do if it happened again. She didn’t ever expect it to, thinking it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. That she’d learn from it and then she wouldn’t be in this situation again, being punched in the face by a man.

She started to cry, the throbbing pain in both her face and her foot taking over as the adrenaline dissipated, she was too overwhelmed to do anything more. He let her cry against him, rubbing his hand on her back as he kissed her forehead.

She couldn’t wait for him to get out of here, and she was going to leave with him.

—

Derek is the first to burst through the door. Wrapping Spencer up in the biggest hug she’s ever seen him give. Rocking Spencer back and forth in his grasp as he kissed Spencer's cheek a few times.

He pulled back, holding Spencer's face in his hands. Smiling so he didn’t cry, “they’re dropping the charges.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Derek shakes his head adding, “You’re free.” Expecting Spencer to hug him again.

Instead, Spencer turns to Y/N and pulls her into a kiss. She’s startled at first, eyes wide open as Spencer’s hands find her waist and pulls her right up against him.

She can't help but settle against him. Holding his face in her hands as she kisses him back. He picks her up slightly, spinning her around with his face buried in her neck as she yelps.

Everyone in the room watching him celebrate with her in shocked silence.

He placed her back on the ground, kissing her one last time. “You did it, Spence,” she smiles at him.

“We did it.”

She hears someone clearing their throat. Both of them turning to see the Warden as well as the entire BAU team standing in her doorway. But they don’t pull apart, Spencer’s hand stays on her side as they wait to get yelled at.

“I quit,” Y/N said before he could say anything to her, “and I might sue.”

“I’m suing for sure,” Spencer added.

“We’re terribly sorry for the condition of your stay Doctor Reid. And Doctor Y/L/N, I’ll never be able to make it up to you. I’m incredibly sorry for what Wilkins did,” the warden tried to cover his ass from a bureau lawsuit.

“Too late for that,” Emily added. Stepping into the room more. “Doctor Reid will be leaving with us, now.”

“Understood,” the Warden hurried out of the room before any more damage could be done.

Everyone took a turn hugging Spencer then. A handful of them even hugging Y/N as well.

Emily wrapped Y/N up in a hug, rubbing her back the way she would all those years before. “Thank you, you have no idea what he means to us.”

“I think I do,” she laughed against her. “If that’s not weird?”

“Not at all,” she pulled back, looking at Y/N with her big beautiful eyes, her bangs pushed out of the way so she could take a good look again. “You two are good together.”

She smiled, “thanks Em.”

“We need to fill him in on everything, will you stay with Diana?” Emily asked.

“Of course, I’m just going to be packing up some things anyway,” she said as she turned to Spencer. “Have fun with your friends, honey.”

“Thanks, sugar,” he kissed her on the cheek before walking out. Everyone whistling and hollering at the boldness Dr. Reid had developed in prison.

They all filed out after him, she watched the door with a soft smile as they wandered down the hall, Spencer taking them to the break room so they could chat.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Diana’s small voice came from Spencer’s desk.

“Oh, Diana,” she smiled. “Can I give you a hug?”

Diana nodded as she walked over to her, wrapping her up in a hug, much like how Spencer would. She can imagine Spencer’s hugs once feeling like this, imagining him small and shy, holding her slightly. Unlike his more beefy, relaxed form since being in prison.

“He means the world to me too,” she says softly as Diana pulls away.

“You saved him, if he didn’t have you he might not still be my soft and sweet little Spencer,” Diana patted her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for making him,” she laughed slightly. “He’s a wonderful man, I have a feeling you played a big role in that.”

Her smile was just like his. The smile of a mother, someone who was going to love him forever, maybe she’d love her too. Y/N felt a little emotional, this could be her family one day.

Chapter 8

There was a lot of information to process as she sat at the BAU round table.

Learning the entire plot of some women’s revenge against Spencer, just how much Wilkins and Lindsay were involved, the crazy scheme they planned and how terribly it would have ended if she wasn’t there.

Spencer, on the other hand, was visiting this Cat person in prison. The one who orchestrated it all, the one who was obsessed with Spencer, the love of her life, to the point she might be having his baby. He had some things to settle with her.

He was on edge before he left, going with Derek and JJ while Y/N stayed back with Diana. David Rossi had even offered to let them all stay at his guest house later that night, seeing as Spencer’s apartment was a crime scene.

Lindsay murdered Cassie, leaving her dead body on Spencer’s apartment floor. Ruining the place he was so desperate to return to.

She was a little out of it. Trying to think of everything that happened and everything she would have to do in the next few days. Compiling a list in her mind as the anxiety bubbled in her gut.

She needed a new job and a new place to live. First, she’d have to go back to Vermont to pack, and she’d have to find a way to support her boys on Parole. And Mike and Jerry.

She put her hands over her face and rested against the table. Overwhelmed with everything, her face still hurting, the lights were too much, she was tired.

Then she was crying softly.

“Hey,” Emily rubbed her back softly. “Shhh, it’s okay, what’s wrong Y/N?”

She sat up and wiped her eyes with a small laugh, embarrassed that her kinda ex-girlfriend was comforting her. “I’m stressed?” She answered, not even really sure herself.

Emily smiled while she nodded, looking so different now than she did back when they first met. Older, but in a beautiful way, gracefully becoming who she was always meant to be. “I get it, believe me.”

She remembered Derek saying she ‘died’ once. How they buried her casket and how pissed they were when they found out she was actually alive. Y/N only knew Emily re-born, as they called her.

She was always caring, always wanted to comfort and make people happy. It was the way she coped with hurting them all, but it carried on past the team. It carried on to strangers, victims, sometimes even unsub’s.

And most definitely Y/N.

There was a part of Y/N that wonders what loving Emily would have been like; if it would have felt half as good as loving Spencer. Or would it be better? She’d never really know, but she could imagine it would have been nice.

“How can we help?” Emily asked, still as wonderful as ever.

“I need a new job,” she laughed. “Can Penelope use her mad skills to find a reputable business in need of a doctor around here?”

“Are you moving back to Virginia?” She smiled at the thought.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a smile growing on her face. “I’m kind of attached to Spencer now.”

“Good, maybe Derek can help you find a place, he has like, what 7? Right now that he’s fixing up?” Emily threw out ideas. “You’ll get the ball rolling soon, it’ll all be fine.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on him, I know you would never but, I was worried he had lost all hope and you never did. Thank you.”

Emily hugged her again, not saying anything. Y/N knew there was nothing to thank her for, this was a family. They would kill for each other if they needed to.

“Let’s go see Penelope,” Emily replied as she pulled away. Standing and extending a hand for Y/N.

The BAU offices were so interesting, many people running around to get jobs done before the end of the day as the main team chilled. It was like any other office she was in; controlled chaos and hierarchy.

Diana was sitting with Penelope in her office, flipping through a scrapbook while eating a jello cup. It made her smile to see it ran in the family.

“Hey,” Penelope cheered as she noticed them.

“I was just going to ask for some help with something, I see you’re busy,” Y/N awkwardly commented on the situation.

“Oh, we’re not,” Diana said. “I was showing her photos of Spencer. Would you like to see them?”

“I’d love to, um while I’m here, Penelope would you be willing to help me search for a good job?” She asked a lot mousier than Spencer would have if he was asking her for something.

“Of course, what are we looking for?” She wheeled to her main computer, cracking her knuckles as she got ready to look.

“Um, anyone hiring a GP close to here, I’m willing to go all the way to DC for work,” she explained. “I just want a place where I won't get punched again,” she tried to laugh at the trauma.

“The sanatarium is hiring, they’ve got good ratings and not a lot of patient complaints, they’re looking for a physician to care for the elderly members of the program,” Penelope explained as she clicked through screen after screen of info.

“That would be nice,” she smiled towards Diana. “Did you like the one you were at?”

“Oh yes,” Diana mused. “I had many friends there, I miss them and the social aspect. For a bunch of loons, I really loved the company.” She laughed at herself.

“I send the link to you,” Penelope smiled. “Now let me see his little baby bum again that one is my favourite, he’s so funny,” she leaned back in close to Diana.

All the pictures were priceless. Seeing Spencer grow up, page after page, every award and accomplishment displayed proudly. It made her miss her family, the love that a mother could bring to her life.

She got a little emotional, trying to nonchalantly wipe the tear off her cheek as she watched Diana flip a page.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly.

Y/N laughed, “yeah I just miss my mom.” She scrunched her nose so that the tears stayed in, waving her hand in front of her face as she tried to blink the tears back.

“Where is she?” An innocent question opening the floodgates.

“She had cancer,” Y/N cried softly. Not noticing as Emily and Penelope left the room. Giving them a space to bond.

“She died when I was 26,” she explained.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Diana placed her hand on Y/N’s back as she rubbed her softly. “Do you have any other family?”

“My moms are gay, well. After my mom died I stopped talking to her wife, yes she raised me but she hurt my mom too much for me to love her like a parent,” Y/N unloaded her trauma onto Diana, it must be genetic to find comfort in the Reids.

“Spencer never had a father either,” Diana related to her. “After William left it was just us, and Spencer stepped up to being the man of the house. He’s always been thrown into situations where he has no control but he needs to make the decisions. You’re probably the best person he could be with, he doesn’t have to take care of you.”

“Cause I baby him,” she laughed as she wiped stray tears off her cheeks. “He’s pretty wonderful, you did a fantastic job. Both of you did, look at the love you have. This is a perfect family.”

She gestured to the book of photos, seeing the love beaming off Diana’s face as she held a 12-year-old Spencer in her arms. Braces, on his face, thick glasses, long hair. He was adorable.

“You’re welcome to join,” Diana offered softly. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“Why didn’t you?” She asked softly.

“Why have more when you can stop at perfection,” she smiled, the same wonderful smile Spencer had.

“That he is,” she agreed. “Thank you for him.”

“Thank you, I mean it when I say you saved him,” Diana’s serious look making Y/N cry again.

“I know,” she cried. “And I’d do it again.”

In a heartbeat.

—

Rossi had 3 rooms ready for use in his guest house. Only 2 were ever used during their stay. They spent a few nights recovering together, helping Diana into a new routine for a few days while trying to just spend as much time as possible together out in the real world.

Rossi’s property was huge, never-ending even. He had lake access, ponds with ducks, fields and fields of long grass topped with flowers. It was like a dream getting to explore it together.

Happiness hit her like a freight train, smacking her in the chest and knocking the wind out of her.

She blinked and suddenly she had been waking up in Spencer’s arms for a week straight. Going on adventures together, waiting for him with a coffee outside his NA meetings, holding him all night long.

He had a hard time adjusting to a real bed again, it was too soft. He spent most of his time with his head on Y/N's chest, letting her rub his back slowly as she kissed his head, helping him drift off to sleep every single night. Causing her to fall deeper and deeper in love with him.

Every day beside him was a blessing, no longer was he a dog trapped in a cage. He was free, running with her through the fields like wild horses.

She woke up with him still snuggled into her, arm around her waist, legs tangled together, his face right in the crook of her neck. His hot breath on her skin being the thing that finally woke her up.

Absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair, eyes still closed as she woke up. Snuggling her cheek against the top of his head, causing him to pull her in tighter. Both of them slowly coming alive again.

“I love you,” her voice coarse from sleeping with her mouth open, dry as she licked her lips. It was the only thought that came to her mind. Not even realizing it was the first time she’s said it to him.

Spencer kissed her neck softly, “I love you.”

She couldn’t believe the happiness she was feeling, almost positive that even in her saddest moments she still loved him just this much. He was everything, even under all the scares and trauma, he was the most wonderful person in her whole world. And she was beyond blessed to be holding him in her arms.

The sun was barely up yet, having fallen asleep around 10 pm last night, they were up way earlier than they expected. It was so nice, the deep orange light of the morning sun creeping through the window behind the bed.

“Do you want to go watch the sun come up?” She asked softly.

“Yeah,” he nodded softly. Sitting up with her to get ready.

They put on track pants and sweaters and shoes, grabbing a few blankets and heading outside. A few minutes of walking behind Rossi’s house led them towards a beautiful little pond, they laid out 2 blankets over the dew-soaked grass before cuddling on top of it.

The birds were performing for them, the clouds were cleaning into the most beautiful morning blue sky she had ever seen. She couldn’t help herself from holding him tighter against the blanket.

The sun shined on the water, casting beautiful pinks and oranges across the surface as it stretched into the sky. A few ducks followed their mommas in the May morning breeze, quacking in agreement as they swam across the pond. Playing a game of following the leader.

It was a dream, she was sure of it. It was all too perfect to be real.

Including Spencer, he laid there softly underneath her, holding her against his chest as she appreciated the world around them. His attention only on her, even after being locked up for 3 months. He would always choose her.

“I’m so happy,” she said softly. “You make me so happy.”

He kissed her on the forehead, pushing her back against the blanket so he could kiss her whole face as she laid there. Smiling as she held his sides, letting him smother her in affection.

When he finally stops kissing her, he brushes her hair behind her ear. Cupping her face with one hand as he looks at her. The sun casting a vibrant glow on the both of them as they appreciated each other for a moment.

“I don’t know how I made it so long without you,” he finally speaks. “But I never want to do it again.”

“Move in with me?” She replied without a second thought. “I need to find a place here anyway, and I doubt you want to go back to your apartment.”

“I already asked Derek for the place he was fixing on Wilmont, it’s close to the sanatarium, mom wants to be social again,” he filled her in on his plans. “We just have to sign the lease.”

“We?” She teased him.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“Good,” she smiled as she pulled him into another kiss. “Because I love you, too.”

Spending time with Spencer was intimacy in its purest form. It was a relationship built on trust, respect, and mutual love. It was the first time in her life she felt truly in love, not mesmerized by the idea of it.

She trusted him when he said that he loved her. She believed him when held her when he talked to her about his day or the most random things his mind could conjure. When he’d just hold her, enjoying her presence without wanting anything more than just her.

Chapter 9

They arrived in Vermont early on a Saturday morning, heading to her apartment to pack everything up. It was just the two of them this time, flying in together, half asleep at the break of dawn.

Only bringing 1 bag with her essentials for the next 2 days, hoping to pack her whole life into a truck and pray it arrived in Virginia okay.

And she got to show Spencer her space. A personal side of her that he had no idea about. He knew her mind, her feelings, her trauma, but he didn’t know what her personality was really like outside of loving him.

He was surprised by the amount of stuff she had. Wandering around her apartment quietly as she started taping boxes into shape.

Rented white walls enclosed the space when she moved in, not being able to paint them or anything felt wrong to her. So she covered them in photos, artwork and posters. Bringing the space to life with a touch of colour.

Mostly neons, having an affinity for green and purple accent pieces. Not a single shade of blue to be found, getting enough of that at work over the years.

She had plants everywhere, an old record player and a million different albums spread across the living room. Her bedroom was a mess, the closet was even worse. The kitchen would be easy to pack, it was the stuff on the walls she was worried about.

“I’m probably not getting my deposit back,” she laughed as she started taking the paintings down.

“I didn’t know you went to Harvard?” He points at her medical degree on the wall as she takes it down.

“Yeah, let me guess you’re a Yale guy?” She teased him.

He scoffed, nudging her arm lightly. “CalTech and MIT actually, Yale was my safety school.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Spencer stood beside her and watched for a minute, “what should I do?”

“Pick an area and pack the way you would if this was your place, I trust you won't break anything.”

“Okay,” he nodded, beginning stacking all her books on the kitchen table.

They worked well together, they knew that already. She put on music, they moved around each other freely. Occasionally singing the words and dancing around to the good ones. It was a lovely day to just open the windows and clean.

Hours passed, pizzas had been ordered and destroyed, boxes filled every corner of the space as her personality was completely ripped from the room. Soon it was just them, a couch and the record player.

She got up and walked into the bedroom to change, feeling sticky and gross from the day. Not expecting Spencer to follow and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Who knew packing boxes for 7 hours would make you so sweaty,” she jokes as she peels the shirt off her back. Standing in front of him in just her sports bra.

He turns away from her, making her laugh slightly. “Spencer, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks as he turns back to look at her.

She nods softly, “do you want to shower with me?”

He’s speechless for a moment, staring at her with an open mouth, “yeah, yes sure.”

She can't help herself from laughing, taking his hand and pulling him into her tiny bathroom. She makes sure they both have a few towels, seeing him awkwardly stand by the door like he’s not allowed to move.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she reminded him. “Go as slow as you want.”

“I want to join you, but just to clean,” he made his decision.

“Alright, I have 3 different shampoos you can choose from,” she smiled, opening her cupboard and letting him pick. He smiled, appreciating how easily she made it a strictly business situation.

She took off her pants, watching him get undressed out of the corner of her eye. They had been much more intimate with each other already, getting naked in front of him shouldn’t have been as nerve-racking as it was.

She turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature with her foot. She took a deep breath and just took the sports bra off, freeing her boobs after a long day felt amazing, replacing the fear of Spencer seeing her for the first time. She dropped her underwear to the floor and stepped into the shower, waiting for him to do the same.

Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, naked. She didn’t know how to act, just laughing and smiling at him. He did the same, it felt kinda crazy that they were standing in a shower, butt naked as the water pooled at their feet.

“You have to pull the thingy up,” she pointed at the bottom of the shower behind him. “It might be cold when it hits you, here pull it up and hide in the corner, like I do.”

He followed her instructions, pulling the small silver plug up to redirect the water from the tub faucet to the shower head. Cowering into the corner with her, their chests pressed together as the cold water hit his back, making him gasp as she laughed.

She wrapped her arms around him, leaning against the shower wall as she held him against her, “hi,” she whispered through her smile.

He kissed her quickly before backing up under the stream. She watched the water cover his hair, making it darker as it spread through the long locks. She watched it drip down his body softly, her eyes travelling down as it did.

He had a scar on his neck and all the bruising on his chest was long gone. His skin was so pretty, he only had a small amount of chest hair, but it was the collection of freckles all over capturing her gaze the most. She reached out and rested her hand on his chest, seeing his eyes open as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sorry,” she pulled her hand back.

“It’s okay,” he laughed slightly. “Here,” he reached behind her for the bar of soap, “if you want to touch me while I wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. Reaching for the loofa on the tap behind him, standing directly in his space as she did so.

They switched sides, slowly turning so he would be out of the spray of the shower head. He put shampoo in his hands and rubbed it through his hair while she watched quietly for a moment.

She rubbed the bar of soap against the fabric of the loofa, watching it foam up and fill the small space with a soft cucumber scent. Running it over his chest softly as he massaged his scalp. She was so soft with him, mesmerized by how lucky she was.

He was beautiful and soft. He wasn’t big and buff like Derek, he was just a normal man with a love for chocolate donuts and jello. She ran the loofa over his tummy as she smiled, loving everything about him.

Loving every part actually while trying to avoid both eye and physical contact with specific sections of him. Not knowing if he was okay, wanting to respect his space, and appreciating that he was doing the same with her.

He laughed when she ran it along his side, ticking his armpit as he tried to wash his hair, soap dripping down onto his eyebrow. She reached up and wiped it off his face so it wouldn’t go in his eye.

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“Switch?” She said as she guided him back under the water, his eyes still closed from the fear of getting soap in them. Scrunching his face up in the cutest way.

The water cascaded over his body, washing the soap down him as she watched, her hair not even close to being wet enough to wash yet. She just wanted to watch the show, to look at all of him and appreciate the moment.

He opened his eyes once all the soap was gone, his hair longer than ever as it laid flat behind his ears, he looked so funny without a big curly mop of hair on his head, remembering he said it used to be like this at one point.

“Your turn?” He offered, taking the loofa from her and reapplying the soap to it. “Can I?”

“Of course,” she answered as he slowly ran the material over her.

He was so gentle, she watched his face as he washed over her. Biting his bottom lip in concentration as he covered her chest, arms and stomach, “um,” he tried to speak, she knew what he wanted.

She took the loofa from him and replaced it with a bar of soap, “rub it in your hands for a sec, and then use them it’s easier.”

He did just that, lathering up his hands before he placed them directly on her breasts. She let out a sigh, bordering on a moan, as he held them in his hands, massaging the soap in carefully. Thumbs rubbing over her nipples as he made sure to not miss a spot.

She was in heaven, tossing her head back against the shower wall as he ran his hands over her more. Exploring her as she leaned against the wall.

Down her stomach, past her belly button, washing her hips before dropping to his knees. Using the bar of soap once more to wash over her legs as she stared at him, amazed by the bravery he was showing.

The water getting in his eyes down there, he stood and pushed his hair back out of his face as the water dropped to the floor, “turn around?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” she replied, turning to face the wall.

He ran his soapy hands all over her back, over her shoulders and arms. Paying special attention to her butt, which made her laugh, she was only a little ticklish there.

She was covered head to toe in bubbles, Spencer looked at her with a big grin on his face as he noticed his job was done. Helping her under the water to wash all the soap off.

She lifted her arms to run the water through her hair, feeling her boobs perk up as she did so. Spencer's attention being completely switched to her chest as he watched. “Pass me the gold shampoo bottle?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, grabbing it from behind himself and handing it back to her.

She stepped into his space, pouring the soap into her hand and rubbing it in. “They say if you lather it up it’ll apply easier,” she explained her little life hack as she rubbed her hands together.

Finally running her hands back through her hair in Spencer’s personal bubble. Her boobs pressing against his chest once again. He was breathing heavier as she watched him, hoping soap didn’t make its way into her eye and ruin the moment.

When she finally stepped back to wash the soap out of her hair, Spencer followed, pressing them together once more. Holding her by the waist as she continued to get the soap out.

Once the water ran clean, she rested her hands on Spencer's shoulders. Staring at him as the water ran down her back, his eyelashes covered in water droplets as he stared into her eyes.

He was beautiful like this, just himself.

“Are we ever going to be like a real couple?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

He ran his wet hands over his back as he thought about it for a moment, “I would like to be with you, more than this, but-”

“You mean sex?” She smiled softly, trying her best to not tease him. It was a serious moment, but she loved him too much to see him struggle.

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’ll react,” he admitted.

“Honey,” she cooed, rubbing her nose against his softly. “Sex doesn’t make us a real couple, first of all. And second, we have all the time in the world, so you take it as slow as you want. We can start little by little, I don’t mind waiting.”

“How do you mean?”

She smirked at him, “have you ever masturbated in the same room as someone else?”

He swallowed sharply, shaking his head softly, “no, have you?”

“No,” she whispered. “But it’s a small step. You can sit beside me, we touch ourselves, nothing overlaps unless you want it to. Ease into it. It would be another easy way to be comfortable with your body around me.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

She reached behind herself to turn the water off, tapping the silver plug with her foot to release the pressure, and stepping out of the shower finally.

—

They dried off, getting into their pj’s before laying on the couch in her empty living room. Listening to the Hozier album that was already sitting on the player and cuddling while their hair dried. Just enjoying each other's company, he was so soft and he smelled amazing, it was so nice to have him in her space.

“Did you still want to?” Spencer cut into the moment.

It made her smile against him, lifting her head off his chest as she went to stand up. “Come on,” she took his hand, helping him to his feet.

She pulled him in close, kissing his lips softly. Only planning to kiss him once, being drawn into his mouth as his hands wrapped around her back.

She held him in return, slowly making her way into the bedroom as they stayed connected, laughing as her back smacked the door frame and then at the way he fell into her bed with her on top.

Her music softly travelled in from the living area, they kept the lights off as they stripped out of their pants and got under the covers.

“How did you want to start?” She asked, turning to face him as she laid against the pillow.

“Can we just kiss for a while?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled, placing a hand on his cheek and leaning in.

She was laying slightly on top of him, holding his face in her hands as she kissed him. His tongue was soft, swirling with hers as they made out softly. He was very handsy, wanting to touch every single part of her once again like he didn’t get enough in the shower.

She spread her leg between his, sitting on his thigh as she rubbed against him. He bit her lip, squeezing her skin at the feeling. “I think I can do it,” he said softly.

“No,” she whispered, kissing his neck before getting off him. “I don’t want to hear I think. It’s a yes or it’s a no.”

“Okay,” he managed to bring reason back into his horny brain.

He took his shirt off, only in boxers beside her, tenting in them slightly. She took off her shirt as well, laying back against the pillow. He watched her breasts the whole time, licking his lips as he leaned on his side.

She ran a hand over her side, cupping her breast and tossing her head into the pillow more. “I’m starting without you,” she teased, her other hand slipping under the band of her underwear.

He laid on his back, bending his knees as he slipped his boxers off, she looked over at him with careful eyes. Genuinely curious about how beautiful he would look rock hard and begging for it.

She didn’t move her hand, just resting it under her underwear to entice him to start. She watched as he stroked himself softly, returning his attention to her smiling face.

She pushed her shirt and underwear off as well, scooting in closer to him so she was pressed against his side. Bending one knee so she could ghost her fingers over the folds as he watched her.

“I want to touch you,” he rushed the words out.

“Okay.”

He reached his left hand over, resting it on her hip before resting his hand on top of hers. She slipped it out from under his grasp, guiding his fingers to her clit as she stretched her legs further apart.

“Yeah, like that,” she encouraged him.

“W-would you?”

“Finish the sentence,” she instructed him. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Stroke me, I want it. Yes.”

She wrapped her fist around him, feeling his fingers swoop down to see how wet she was. “Oh,” she jerked her hips against his side, not expecting him to loop the wetness back up and rub her clit again.

He groaned as she stroked him faster, both of them staring at their own handiwork. She was fascinated with how big he was, being able to stroke up and down him so gracefully it was like she was always meant to. She licked her lips as she saw the pearl of precum drip out. Gathering it up with her thumb as she slid back down his length.

He was panting, trying to hold himself back as she kept jerking him off. Lightly touching her clit as all his attention focused on not cuming so soon.

“It’s okay honey,” she whispered in his ear.

Straddling his thigh then. His hand resting on her clit still as she ground down on him. “Is this okay?” She asked.

He nodded, “yes,” biting his lip so he didn’t explode right then and there.

He felt amazing on her, every time her hips ground down her clit rested right between his fingers perfectly to gain the perfect amount of friction back and forth.

She let herself go, bucking her hips and moaning as she stroked him with one hand. Resting the other behind her neck so he could look at her boobs perk up again, sending him so close to the edge he almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “C-an I?”

“Cum baby,” she gasped. Following her own instruction as she watched the cum burst from him, shooting up over her fist as she stroked him through it. Grinding against him as she whimpered, “fuck, I love you,” leaving her mouth.

Letting go of his dick as he started to whine, she dropped down against him with her face nestled into his neck.

She kissed him, over and over again. Peppering them against his skin for the best orgasm she has ever had.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against his skin as he came down from the high. His chest heaving as he tried to calm down, only picking up again when she heard the sob.

“Shhh,” she whispered against his skin, letting him hold her tighter against him as he cried. “I love you, honey, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

She felt the tears welling in her own eyes, overwhelmed with her feelings for him. “I love you so much Spencer,” she cried against his skin, the tears dripping down his neck slowly.

His hands ran over her back, they held each other while they cried.

Everything from the last week finally catching up with them both. They hadn’t taken a moment to talk about any of it, the fact he was even in prison or what happened after. They just moved on, pretending it was fine now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally.

“Me too,” he pressed his hand onto her cheek, freeing her from his neck as she sat up a little.

Both of them still gross from the sex, pressing sweaty foreheads together as they took a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she emphasized, “are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” he laughed at the absurdity. “I’m crying because I love you so much.”

“Really?” She laughed too.

He nodded softly. Kissing her nose as she pulled back to look at him better. “I want to touch you but,” she laughed at the mess on her hand and where she rested it on his chest. “Can we pause for one sec?” She couldn’t stop smiling.

The two of them continuing to laugh at the situation as they cleaned up in the bathroom, laughing even harder as she sat to pee like they had been married for a million years already, laughing the hardest when it came out in dribbles from all the laughing.

Going through every emotion in the book as they coped with the insanity together.

Once they were clean they crawled back into bed. Resuming almost the same position as she sat down on his lap, holding his face in her hands like she wanted to. Rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks as he pulled her in closer by her hips.

“Tell me what you’re feeling?” She whispered.

“I’m happy, you saved my life and I can’t believe I get to do this with you,” he explained softly, moving his hands on her back. He talked with his hands, not able to say anything without them moving.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Spencer,” she reassured him.

“Why?” He asked softly. “not in a pity party sense, I just want to know how you feel. You haven’t really told me, I’ve been waiting for you to open up, I thought maybe you were just like that because it was your job, but I want to know you more.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she bumped their noses together. “I don’t normally talk to people, even with Derek I’m really closed off. But I do trust you, and I want to, I just wanted to experience you when you’re free. I wanted to see if this overwhelming ache in my heart would dissipate as I was allowed to love you.”

She didn’t want to cry again. Blinking so the tears rolled back behind her eyes, licking her lips as her head tilted slightly. She just stared at his honey eyes, glossy and blown out. So absolutely beautiful.

“It got worse,” she laughed slightly. “I realized that now that you’re free you don’t have to see me every day, luckily you want to. But, now I think about losing you instead of keeping you safe.”

“Never,” he shook his head, face still cupped in her hands. “I’m never leaving you, you’re going to need a restraining order if you want to break up.”

She laughed, pushing the tears out, finally. Spencer kissed her cheeks, wiping the tears away with his lips. “Okay,” her voice broke as she tried not to cry anymore.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered. “You’re brave and kind, incredibly smart. You’re willing to do whatever it takes for the ones you love, you’re the only person I want to talk to every day.”

“I was going to say that about you,” she pressed their lips together finally, pushing him back against the headboard.

She laid her head on his shoulder, cuddling into him as she sat in his lap, “I have never loved anyone like this.”

“Me either,” he admitted as he pressed his cheek to her head. “Not even with Maeve, or Derek I know he told you.”

“And your mom,” she smiled. “She actually welcomed me to the family, said she always wanted a daughter. It’s nice to have a mom again.”

That broke him, he finally dropped the tuff boyfriend act he was putting up to hear her feelings, crying at his mother and the love of his life being close. She could tell he was a mamma’s boy, they had a bond Y/N wished she could have with someone. The closest she had to a Diana was Derek, as funny as that was.

She let him cry, not prying into it at all. Letting him take control of his emotions and the conversation. She ran her hands up and down his arm, soothing him softly as he held on to her.

“I was so scared,” is all Spencer says.

“I can imagine.”

“No, I mean about my mom,” he corrects her softly. “I thought the second she got her diagnosis that I ruined everything for her. She was going to forget me before I could even find a person to marry, let alone give her grandkids.

‘She was going to forget me,’ echoed in her mind as she wrapped her head around what he was saying. He was more terrified of losing his mother and missing time with her than he was about being in prison. He really put every ounce of his love into his family, it was beautiful.

“I applied to work at the sanatarium,” is how she answers. “They needed a GP and I need a job. This way I can see her every day, and you can go to work or teach or do whatever and know she’ll be okay. And old people seem nicer than cops and criminals.”

“I love you.”

She laughs, kissing his neck softly. “She’ll be okay, we’ll get her taken care of and who knows, maybe we’ll have more answers before a grandkid rolls around.”

It’s a risk, joking about having kids with him already. But she was ready for a life sentence with him, willing to stay in that god-awful prison as long as he was there. Including if he lost his case.

“You’re too good to me.”

“I try,” she smiled. “You’re pretty fantastic yourself, I didn’t just fall in love with your pretty face, sure you’re helpful and do what I say. But I love you because of what’s in here,” she ran her hand over his chest.

He just held her, silence encapsulating the room finally. The record stopped playing in the living room, no one was on the street at this time of night, the world stopped as she laid in his arms.

The Sunday morning sun was going to start coming up as she stayed up in his lap, both of them settling more against the pillow. She had no plans to get off him, he had no plans to separate from her loving embrace.

a/n: still working on an epilogue idk when it'll be done

Permanent tag list:

@ssacalumsg0lden @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose @reidsacademia @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @spooky-goob @anaagraceeberr

[jessikahathaway]

Ambrosia - Prologue

Park Jimin (Aphrodite) X Reader

Genre: GreekGod!AU, Genderbent Aphrodite!AU, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn and Smut (Future)

Warnings: Mentions of terminal illness, Jimin in a SUIT, Namjoon being a lil nosy, profanity (if I forgot anything please let me know!)

Words: 3.1k (YA GIRL PROCRASTINATED TOO LONG AND DIDN'T GET THE FULL CHAPTER DONE SO WE'RE DOING A PROLOGUE. K? K.)

Summary: Cast out of Olympus with the task to find his one true love, Aphrodite is certain his match will come to him. But as the years drag on, what happens when the God of Love, gives up?

Days in a flower shop in the middle of a decent sized town can pass by fast or slow. There can be days with what feels like hundreds of orders coming through the tiny store, and then there are the days where the employees just wind up looking at their phones the whole time and not one soul passes through the door.

But on special days, all it takes is one person to walk through those doors and everything changes.

This is a story of one of those days.

--

Tuesdays could seriously go fuck off for all you cared. This particular Tuesday was proving to be a test on every ounce of your patience and every single time you heard that door bell ring as the gates of hell opened, your shoulders sagged a little more. Something about their flowers wasn’t right. The blue wasn’t like the sky but like the sea and that’s an issue. The flowers look wilted. Always something.

But, like you did every day you turned to the customer and gave them a huge smile, ready to help them with whatever they needed. Even if it meant losing your sanity little by little.

The day passed this way, going on and the clock didn’t seem to be moving at your desired pace. So, you sat on the chair behind the desk at the front and gazed out the window.

It was a warmer spring day.

The trees were budding and life was returning after a long winter. You loved this time of the year. Everything becoming new again, alive and welcoming. But, it also means more work for you. It’s never been a problem, but this past year has been particularly hard.

Your younger sister passed away.

She’d been fighting a long illness, one with a poor prognosis. At a young age you and Sana were placed in the foster system, living with a decent enough upbringing. The foster parents were never mean or cruel, but they weren’t your parents. Whom you barely remembered now. So when you turned eighteen you asked if you could become her legal guardian. Your foster parents had agreed, wishing you and her the best of luck...

But luck had never been on you or your sister’s side.

Her illness started to rapidly progress, causing more and more doctor’s visits and more money being pulled from your measly savings. It wasn’t enough. You were having to take out loans and everything just to keep the lights on in your apartment.

Sana, however, kept her spirits high no matter the situation. She was the positive one. The bright one that everyone gravitated towards in school. She was your light. And now your life is duller. Your sister loved to go through the streets in her wheelchair, looking at the budding leaves and flowers that were growing on the trees.

“Look Y/N!” she’d squeak. “They’re so beautiful. I want to open a flower shop, and I’m going to sell the most beautiful flowers to people.”

As her birthday present you decided to open the flower shop.

It was her last one.

Looking out at the spring blooming in front of you it was hard to be happy, knowing how much your sweet Sana would’ve loved it. Life often wasn’t fair, but you hadn’t expected it to be so. You weren’t a bad person, but bad things had happened. But you were alive, and had a life to keep living.

As much as the flower shop was Sana’s dream, you couldn’t sell it when she died. It had become your safe haven. A little place to call your own. Even if it was Sana’s dream, you had made it real. Real enough for the both of you, and now you gotta keep it going. Even if the loan to open it made your wallet want to cry, it was enough. Plenty.

Because it was yours.

A single tear fell down your cheek as you thought of your beloved sister, and her cute cheeks and beautiful eyes that never held an ounce of fear or regret. A few petals fell from the blossoming tree outside in the wind and fell to the ground in a swirl of pastel hues that made you smile.

More tears moved down your cheeks and you wiped them away in frustration. She wouldn’t want you to be upset, she’d want you to be happy and to continue with your life. Keep going and make something of yourself.

Sana used to say that you were always Y/N the big sister and never just... Y/N. And you knew it was true. You were supposed to take care of her, but now that she’s gone... T-There was no one to care for but yourself.

You’d have to be enough.

Suddenly, the bell above your door ran proudly, making your teary eyes refocus on the person entering the store. Those tears were quickly replaced with a look of wonder.

A man walked through the door, head held high and his eyes scanned the area like he was inspecting it. Wiping your already sweaty palms on your apron you approached him with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to Sana’s flowers, how can I assist you?” you asked, coming towards him. The man took in your appearance and a calm expression steeled over his face.

“Hi, are you Sana?” he asked, referring to the name.

“No, Sana was my sister,” you said, swallowing hard. The man seemed to understand.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to impose,” he said, bowing lightly.

“You’re fine, no worries. How can I help you?” you asked, looking at his apparel.

He was dressed in a fine suit, tailored to his every inch, must’ve been expensive as hell. You could probably open a whole new section of your shop with the money he was dripping in.

You weren’t known for having an upper class clientele, not that the occasional businessman came in and asked for a bouquet of your finest flowers. Sometimes two... Shaking your head you focused on the man in front of you as best as you could. But, his features were so striking it was hard to keep your eyes from wander...

“Park Jimin,” he introduced, holding his hand out politely.

“Y/N,” you said, extending your own hand and taking his in yours. Shaking gently he gave a smile that could rival the very stars in the sky. This man was more breathtaking the longer you looked, making your palms start to sweat even more.

“A pleasure, Y/N,” he said. “I’m having an event to celebrate my family's company. It’s the 125 year of it’s business and we are looking to source from the local populace instead of corporations to provide a more intimate setting for the investors and other members of the company,” Jimin said, rambling off a lot of information for your sleep deprived brain.

“I see, so you’re looking for floral arrangements?” You asked, heading towards your book of options. Jimin followed you over, leaning towards you so close you could smell his cologne. A spicy scent that wasn’t overpowering but more... alluring? Inviting?

Shaking your head you pulled up your options of centerpieces and the like, showing him what styles you had available and Jimin paid close attention to each set. Asking questions about what flowers would look good in what vases and if they did better in foam or water.

“For events I prefer the foam personally. Less likelihood of someone knocking a vase over and water getting everywhere. But the flowers are more mobile in the water, so it’s about what you’re looking for in regards to the feel,” you said.

Jimin seemed to weigh his options for a moment. “I like the traditional styles you showed me. The simple little flowers decorating around the larger arrangements, it looks classy and provides the color I’m looking for,” he said, nodding.

Making a note you grabbed a notepad to start writing all the information down.

“So when is your event? A month, two?” You said, throwing out a few different times.

“Two weeks,” he said. You froze, swallowing hard.

“Ah, I see,” you said, biting your lip.

“Is that a problem?” He asked, looking up at your pained expression.

“It’s just, the flowers might take a minute to get here. And I arrange everything by hand, so it takes me a little longer. How many tables were you going to have and the garlands for the stairways as well?” You asked.

“Well as for tables I have 150 dinner tables, 50 cocktail tables and 8 large banquet tables. There are two main stairwells that wrap around to the main area so there will be about 400ft worth of garland necessary,” he calculated slowly.

“Okay,” you said, rubbing your temples slowly.

“How many people do you have on your payroll?” He asked, looking around and noticing the empty space.

“Just me. My friend Namjoon likes to come and help sometimes but he’s a full time nurse so,” you shrugged.

“Would you be able to do this in two weeks with just by yourself?” He asked, raising a brow.

“I can always try,” you said, giving a gentle smile.

“How much would it cost?” He asked.

“Depends on the flowers you want, you already picked the style so one second,” you said, grabbing your calculator and running the numbers really quick. “I can do expedited shipping on the flowers to get them here faster but then you run the risk of stems getting broken and not having enough. But I can order more to compensate but then that’s more money,” you said.

Finally you had a total and you frowned.

“It would be around $2,156 if we did the expedited shipping and ordered more flowers to compensate for the potential broken ones,” you said, biting your lip. That was a lot of money to spend on flowers for a simple dinner event. You knew it, but with everything he wanted and the time frame it was the best you could do... You didn’t even charge him for the probability of Namjoon helping. Because then it would jump up to the 3,000 dollar mark and you weren’t going to push your luck.

After a few moments, Jimin pulled out his checkbook and started writing the check out. Your eyes bulged when he pushed the piece of paper towards you, his pen clicking with a sense of finality.

“What kind of flowers should we get?” He said, a smile on his face. You looked down and almost flung the check right back at him.

$5,500

This man had just dropped over five thousand dollars without blinking.

“Th-This is too much,” you said, trying to push it back towards him.

“You charged me for base flowers, and it’s super short notice. Take the extra as a tip,” he smiled.

“I-I can’t accept over two thousand dollars as a tip. If I get audited I’ll be screwed,” you said.

“No you won’t, it’ll be fine. Please, take it,” he encouraged, placing the check back in front of you.

You swallowed thickly, trying to keep yourself from panicking. You did have a large loan payment coming up, and this would lessen that blow significantly...

But wasn’t it wrong?

“Alright...” you trailed off, taking the check and stamping it before putting it in your deposit bag.

“What type of flowers do you recommend using?” He asked, looking at you with a gentle gleam in his bright eyes.

“Peonies and hydrangeas are a great combo with complementary color palettes. I always love doing grass pieces as a nice natural moment but, baby's breath is a classic and more traditional if that’s what you’re looking for,” you said.

“Can we do the soft blue hydrangeas and white peonies?” He asked, looking at the sample photos you had.

“Yes, the white peonies would bring a nice fullness and the hydrangeas can add the color,” you explained.

“Perfect, let’s do that then,” he said, nodding.

“Okay! I’ll get the order to go in and get the expedited shipping and we should get them by the end of the week. They’ll go into the fridge and that should help keep them fresh,” you said.

“Here.”

You turned around to see a small card placed on the table in front of you.

“What’s this?” You asked, lifting the small thing to your eyes.

“My number,” he said, grinning. “Message me when the flowers come in.”

“O-Okay, absolutely!”

Jimin smiled then, a bright dazzle expression that had your mouth drying in longing.

“I look forward to hearing from you, Y/N,” he said.

“I look forward to it as well, Mr. Park,” you said politely. Jimin tutted and shook his head.

“No, Jimin will do just fine. Have a great day Y/N,” he waved, turning on his heel and heading out the door.

You looked at the numbers and sighed.

God you were so fucked.

—

“So, let me get this straight,” Namjoon said over the phone. “Hot guy in a suit comes in and orders a fuck ton of flowers you know you can’t do yourself and you agree because he dropped an extra few grand in the check? Y/N! You can’t do that, I’ll only be able to help you arrange the bouquets the day of. So you’ll have to put them all together yourself! When will you sleep? Eat? Poop!?!” He yelped.

“Firstly, my bowel movements are none of your concern,” you stated. “And second of all, I can’t refuse that kind of money! The next loan payment is going to fuck me over if I don’t have this padding. Please Joonie, tell me you can help me at least the night before,” you pleaded.

“I really can't Y/N, I’m working night rotation. So, I could maybe stop by in the morning but then the flowers have to sit longer,” he reasoned.

“Yeah I know... Can you switch?” You said, a soft voice replacing your whining.

“I wish I could, but there’s hardly any staff that night as it is. And we’re all pulling hours we don’t like. I can’t ask them to do more. Poor Taehyung has already covered me this month and I would rather throw myself in front of a car than ask again,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re busy and I’m desperate, but... I’ll figure it out,” you said, rubbing your face in exhaustion.

“What kind of asshat doesn’t come in until last minute to order a huge ass amount of floral arrangements?” Namjoon asked.

“An asshat named Park Jimin apparently,” you said, twisting the stem of a flower in front of you.

“You-You mean the Park Jimin?” Namjoon stuttered.

“I don’t know how many of them there are, Namjoon. I just know what this one looked like,” you said.

“Doesn’t he have like, neon pink hair or something?” He asked.

“Um, no? It was blonde-ish when he was in here,” you said.

“Plump lips?”

“Yeah?”

“Eyes that command the panties of women to drop?” He asked.

“Sir, my panties stayed firmly in place so I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about,” you huffed.

“For now, Y/N, for now. Anyways,” he said dismissively. “If this is the Park Jimin we’re talking about you need to be very careful.”

“What? What are you talking about,” you whispered.

“He’s like a sex God or something. He’s got game better than Jordan, okay? But he never commits to anyone,” he said, seriously.

You rolled your eyes, even though the man couldn’t see you.

“My heart isn’t in danger here, Namjoon. We’ll be fine. I can handle an attractive businessman,” you said.

“Yeah, but can your cum thirsty twat handle it?”

“Sir, I’m gonna hang up,” you warned.

“As a nurse I demand to know the last time you got laid,” he said. “It’s for you health of course.”

“That should be a HIPPA violation,” you complained.

“Yeah, not a friendship violation though. Tell me when was the last time you were left boneless between the sheets my guy,” he said.

“I don’t see how this has to do with floral arrangements,” you sighed. “But since your bitch ass needs to know it was about a year ago.”

“Well, maybe it is time to get back in the ring,” he reasoned.

“Namjoon, there’s no need to get me a suitor. You’re not my dad trying to get another cow on the farm or something,” you joked.

“Do you think Park Jimin would give me a cow if I gave him you?” He asked, sounding too serious for your liking.

“I’m really gonna hang up now,” you said, pulling your phone away from your face.

“Just, be safe Y/N! Don’t work too hard, I love you!” You heard screamed from the receiver.

“Yeah love you too Joonbug,” you said, hanging up and looking at the clock. The numbers glared back at you like they were judging you for being up this late. But you simply shrugged and went and took a much needed shower.

That man had you sweating like a sinner in church.

As you bathed you tried to think of your next plan of attack, but the water was too warm and soon you found yourself relaxing into the stream happily. Once you were done you cracked open a can of beer and sat down in your living room ready to start the night right, when a message floated across your screen.

Joonbug: IS THIS THE CULPRIT?!? Jpg.1013

You stared at the screen with an unamused face, but picked up your device anyway. Namjoon had sent you the picture and you could tell the fucker picked the first one off of google images like the lame hoe he was, but you looked regardless.

And, surprisingly, it was him.

The cherubic cheeks and wide smile, bright eyes and an alluring body. You sighed and texted him back.

Y/N: Yea, that’s him.

Joonbug: OH REAAALLLLYYYY???

Y/N: I hate you so much.

Joonbug: You can’t resist. THIS.

Y/N: I’ve resisted your rat poison for years, I think I got it.

Joonbug: EXcUSE MEEEE??? I am at least some kind of like, sexy poison???

Y/N: I’m dying either way, why do I care if it’s sexy or not?

Joonbug: :((((((

You left the conversation at that, but your mind began to wander. How were you going to finish this order and not embarrass yourself in front of a multimillionaire?

Maybe you bit off more than you can chew...

[ilici]

that’s my brother.

Summary: Sapnap and Dream go to the UK to visit George, and Sapnap has a one night stand with someone who looks oddly familiar. 

(This is the exact same as “that’s my sister” but the pronouns are changing and a bit of the plot is going to change George’s brother has George’s features minus his hair, and eye color. Reader will be wearing a skirt, if you don’t like that you can change it to what you want.)

Warnings: Oral (giving), praising, slight size kink, choking, hand job, slight degrading. 

Word Count: 2714

Sapnap leaned back in the passenger seat, and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t dirty up the rental car.” Dream spoke up, glancing over at Sapnap before he turned his attention back to the road. Sapnap only scoffed, but kept his feet propped up. “I am aching Dream, we’ve been in every type of vehicle you can think of in the past 12 hours.” Sapnap whined, wanted to finally be able to relax. “Shut up, I’ve drove two of those hours, and the rest was on an airplane where you slept the entire time.” Dream said, shaking his head at his friends whinny behavior. “Yeah? So what? I was still in a vehicle.” He said, shaking his head, and looked at the passing buildings.

“How long do we have left till we even get to George’s house?” He asked, and Dream looked down at his phone that was on his lap giving him the directions. “About ten minutes.” He confirmed, and Sapnap felt relieved he only had to be inside the car for ten more minutes. “Thank God.” He mumbled, and looked over at him, “Didn’t George recently move out of his mom’s house and into his own place?” He asked, and Dream nodded. “Yeah, if he was still living with his mom we would've done been there 20 minutes ago.” He admitted, and Sapnap mentally cussed George out. “Does George live alone?” He asked and Dream shrugged, “He’s mentioned he has a brother that comes and visits a lot, so I would assume so.”

After a long ten minute drive, they pulled up to a gated house. “He seriously has a gate?” Sapnap said, and Dream looked at him, “Our house has a gate dumbass.” He said, and Sapnap laughed, “True true.” He nodded his head, as the gate opened for them. “He must’ve seen us on his camera or something.” Dream muttered under his breath as he drove up the driveway. “This house is huge holy shit.” Sapnap said, gawking at the house. “Well yeah, Brighton has better houses than Florida.” Dream said as if it were obvious, “It’s like a whole three stories.” He said, as they parked. George’s figure came into view and he excitedly waved at them. “Hey guys!” George said as he walked to the rental car, planning to help with their luggage. “Hey George.” Sapnap said, as he grabbed his suitcase and some of his duffle bags. Dream greeted George with a hug, and grinned. “I’ll show you two to your rooms.” George said, grabbing what was left.

As the three walked in, Dream and Sapnap were smacked with the smell of French toast. “Did you cook?” Dream asked bewildered, “No, my brother made food for us before he left to go home.” George explained, and the other two nodded. “He seems sweet.” Sapnap said, and Dream nodded in agreement, “He has his moments like every sibling would.” He explained, and Dream mentally agreed thinking back to his sisters. “Sapnap your room is on the second floor and to the right, Dream yours is on the third floor and to the left.” He informed them, and Sapnap instantly looked at George, “Why can’t I be on the third floor?” He asked, and George stared at him blankly, “Because I’d prefer you fall down two sets of stairs then three.” Dream laughed at this and Sapnap attempted to flip him off, straining his arm in the process from all the weight.

Walking up the stairs and into his designated room, he placed everything down and took in the room. “What the..” He whispered, seeing how clean everything was. The room was a dark grey, and had a huge window as a wall on his right, letting him see the clear vision of beautiful mountains. He found himself staring at the scenery, it took his breath away, “Sapnap?” George asked waving a hand in front of Sapnap. Snapping out of his thoughts, he blinked repeatedly and looked over to George, “Yeah?” He asked, and George scoffed. “I've been calling your name for the longest time.” He said waving his arms about, exaggerating. “Yeah yeah whatever.” Sapnap said, waving him off. “Get dressed, we are going to eat then I’m taking you to the club because Dream said you needed to loosen up from all the traveling.” He said, shocked that Sapnap wasn’t jet lagged.

Sapnap nodded and practically pushed George out of the room. Getting dressed, he put on black jeans, a corpse hoodie he received from Corpse himself with a note that said, “I apologize for not knowing you.” Slipping on his shoes, he walked out, not really caring about his appearance too much since he never really mattered to him in the first place. As they all finished eating, it was nearing 8 pm. Getting into the car, Dream made sure George didn’t drive, especially since it was night time. “Just because you got your license a month ago, doesn't mean I will trust you.” Dream said, as George sulked in the passenger side. Sapnap just looked at the scenery as they drove to the club. Feeling the car come to a halt, Sapnap looked up and he grinned, “I am going to get so wasted. I am so glad the age limit is different in the UK.” Sapnap said, and Dream laughed, “You turned 20 like two weeks ago, you’re crazy.” He said shaking his head as everyone got out.

After 4 cosmo’s Sapnap was wasted, and was now on the dance floor as Dream was drinking nothing for being the designated driver. “I hate babysitting.” Dream said, looking at George who shrugged, since he didn’t really like alcohol that much. “At least someone is having fun.” George mumbled, trying to find Sapnap in the mass amount of people. Without any luck, neither of them spotted him. Sapnap on the other hand, was now dancing with a boy who was wearing a Harvard sweater with a collared shirt under, and a white skirt. His features seemed similar but he couldn’t put a finger on it. His E/C and H/C was what threw him off, everything else seemed like deja vu.

His pale smooth skin, and his full plump lips, that he was dying to kiss so badly. Grabbing his hips, the two were grinding on each other. He loved the way his skirt would raise up every now and then from the grinding, “You’re beautiful.” He whispered into his ear, and the boy blushed. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He asked, and he nodded, “I’m going to go tell my friends that I am leaving. My place or yours? I live with my friends, so if you live alone your place is the better option for more privacy.” He said, slurring his words a tad. “My place.” He finally spoke, and his voice sounded silky and innocent if even possible. It sounded intoxicating, grinning he trailed his hand up the side of his thigh as he told her to wait for him outside. Walking in the direction of his friends, Sapnap saw them. “I’m going home with someone, you two can go home.” He said, and the other two just shot up ready to leave.

Sapnap rushed outside, calling an uber as he walked out. “Let’s go.” He said, grabbing his hand, the two stumbling about. Both were drunk, but they knew what they were doing. When the uber arrived, the boy told him his address and Sapnap couldn’t keep his hands off of him. He was either touching his thighs, or subtly kissing his neck, he felt intoxicated by him. Y/N on the other hand was growing frustrated at the touches, his sexual frustration was getting to him. “Fuck this.” He mumbled, and climbed over to straddle Sapnap, ordering the uber driver to keep his eyes on the road. “God you’re so hot.” Sapnap whispered to him, and Y/N crashed his lips on Sapnap’s, the two feeling intoxicated from each other.

Pulling away, Sapnap groaned, “I don’t know if it’s the alcohol in my system, but I could get drunk off your lips.” He said, biting his bottom lip and tugged on it. Chuckling Y/N shook his head, and gasped when he felt Sapnap’s hand going up his skirt. Leaning his head back, he bit his bottom lip holding in a moan as he let Sapnap palm him through his underwear. “Someones enjoying themself, aren’t they?” He teased, and Y/N whined nodding his head too embarrassed to say anything. The fact that the uber driver could hear and see everything made him so much more excited. Slipping his hand under Y/N’s underwear, Sapnap gripped his dick and Y/N let a moan slip out. “Fuck that was hot.” He said watching him, as his face contorted into one of pleasure. Sapnap, was now pumping his hand on Y/N’s dick, loving how he would squirm under his touch. Speeding up his hand, Y/N gripped onto Sapnap’s shoulder as he was growing close.

Speeding up once more, he rubbed his thumb over Y/N’s tip, and that’s what set him off. Letting out a strand of curses, he felt himself cum in Sapnap’s hand and in his underwear. Sapnap watched the sight in front of him, watching him unravel was the prettiest sight ever. Hearing a throat being cleared, the two looked to the front, and noticed they were now at his house. Y/N mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ as the two stumbled out of the car. Y/N paid the uber driver double since he had to witness everything. “Come on pretty boy.” Sapnap said, picking him up and placed him down once they made it to his front door. Fumbling with his keys, he quickly unlocked the door. The two rushed in and in a matter of seconds, Y/N was shoved against the door, Sapnap kissing him deeply and passionately. “Off now.” He mumbled against his lips, as he pulled his skirt and underwear off skillfully. Pulling away, Y/N let the skirt and underwear fall to his ankles. Sapnap looked at Y/N’s already messy dick hungrily, the raging red tip making him groan.

“I can’t even wait to get into your room. I am going to fuck you, right here, right now. Understood?” He said, reaching up grabbing his neck as Y/N whimpered nodding his head. “Since I let you have your moment in the car, you’re gonna give me a reward.” He said pushing him down by the throat and Y/N licked his lips in anticipation. Sapnap eagerly took off his hoodie and shirt, throwing it across the living room. “You do it.” He said, motioning for him to unzip his pants. Nodding, he started unzipping his pants, and unbuttoned them. “Use your words baby.” He said, caressing his jawline, and Y/N bit his bottom lip, “Yes sir.” He said, and Sapnap smirked, “Good boy.” He said, and he hissed a bit when he felt the cool air hit his now free dick. Y/N looked at his dick, it was long and thick. He didn’t know if it was going to be able to fit.

“Go on.” He urged him, and Y/N nodded snapping out of his trance. Grabbing the base of his dick, he gave it a long lick and Sapnap groaned leaning his head back at the sensation. Tangling his fingers in his hair, he tugged onto the strands lightly. Slowly he licked the precum off the tip, and finally wrapped his lips around his dick. Bobbing his head slowly, Sapnap let out a small moan, as he looked down at the pretty boy. “Eyes on me baby.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him with his round innocent looking eyes, which made him want to destroy him right then and there. Not wanting to waste time, he started thrusting into his mouth. Y/N on the other hand, was special as he had no gag reflex. This; however, caught Sapnap off guard completely. “God such a good little slut you are for me.” He said, biting his bottom lip.

He was amazed by him even more, he let him face fuck him, and he felt himself growing close to his climax. Shoving his dick down his throat as he felt himself cum, he slowly pulled out of Y/N’s mouth. “Swallow.” He ordered, and he obediently swallowed. Picking him up quickly he shoved him against the wall, loving how small Y/N was compared to him. “Are you ready baby?” He asked, and Y/N eagerly nodded his head. “I’m ready please just fuck me.” He whined out, and Sapnap quickly turned him around, pushing him against the wall. “Do you have lube?” Sapnap asked, and Y/N nodded pointing towards the bathroom. Quickly Sapnap bolted to the bathroom grabbing the lube. Walking back, he poured some onto Y/N and put some on his dick. Slowly entering into him giving him time to adjust. Y/N let out a strangled moan, as he wrapped his hand around his throat again. “God you’re so tight.” He groaned out, thrusting up into him roughly when Y/N motioned him to go. Y/N was a moaning mess, he kept trying to hold in his moans, but they kept escaping no matter what. Feeling herself growing close once again, Sapnap smirked, “Cum.” He whispered in his ear, leaning down to add hickeys on his neck. As he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist pumping his dick to help.

The way Y/N’s body was so pale and empty, it was as if he was an empty canvas waiting to be painted on. So he took it upon himself to make sure he had hickeys  scattered every where he could reach. Feeling him sticky substance on his hand, he realized he had came. Groaning at this, Sapnap felt himself cum, and Y/N whimpered feeling the warm substance fill him up. Pulling out, Sapnap groaned at the sight, of his cum leaking out. Y/N soon felt himself being picked up, and a wet substance being rubbed on his ass. He assumed it was a wet washcloth, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ he felt his upper body being covered by an oversized hoodie. Sapnap sat him on the bed, and helped him put on new underwear, he slipped on his own underwear and laid in bed. The two quickly fell asleep.

“What the hell?” Sapnap heard, and he groaned, as he slowly opened his eyes. Looking around, he finally remembered where he was. Looking over he saw Y/N still peacefully sleeping. Growing confused at the voice, he looked around and saw nothing. Looking over he noticed the beautiful stranger also had a window for a wall showing a beautiful forest instead. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning, and the boy beside of him. Slowly getting up, he walked downstairs, hearing hushed voices. “Sapnap?” He heard, and Sapnap whipped around to see a red faced George, and a hysterical Dream. “I told you that was his shirt!” Dream said in between laughs. George paid no mind to him as he pointed a finger at Sapnap, “You slept with my brother?!” George yelled, and Sapnap chuckled. “So that’s who he reminded me of.” He said, and everyone went quiet when they heard soft pattering of feet walking down the stairs. Sapnap’s heart melted at the sight of Y/N tiredly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “George?” He asked, and George visibly calmed at his voice, “Y/N you slept with my best friend Sapnap?” George asked, and the two looked at each other. “Y/N.” “Sapnap.” The two said at the same time, finally knowing their names. “Sapnap you are lucky, and he better not be a one night stand, because you are now living in the UK.” George said, and Y/N looked over at Sapnap, “Maybe we can go on a date later?” Sapnap said, and the boy smiled nodding his head. “How old is Y/N anyways?” Dream asked, and both Y/N and George answered, “He’s my twin.”

[firewoodfigs]

for the only one bed prompts......... "and only one pillow so a used b's chest or stomach" 🥺

EMMA, MY LOVE. FOR YOU I WOULD GIVE THE WORLD AND MORE <3 I hope you enjoy, friend!!! <3

also on ao3 - i like it when you sleep (for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it)

                                      ++++++

She falls asleep on the car ride back.

It’s unusual, such behaviour. Ordinarily, she’d be keeping watch or the one driving, but throwing herself at wolves and flirting with married men (and tolerating her commanding officer’s unwarranted jealousy) is indescribably wearying. It’s even worse than military training, having to put up all these fake niceties and pretenses. She wonders how Roy does this every day. Maybe that’s why he’s so tired all the time, Riza thinks. Now she knows why.

She startles awake briefly when the car jerks. Riza mutters, unintelligibly, something about safety and watching the road. She dimly registers the sound of a murmured apology from the driver’s seat.

Riza nods, and drifts back uneasily to sleep.

(In her sleep, Riza dreams of a dimly-lit courtroom and of Lady Justice, so white and pure and glorious even in the shadows. It is a recurring dream of hers, but it still leaves her palms clammy and her heart racing, like she’s just pulled the trigger on someone for the very first time.)

—

“We’re here,” Roy announces.

Riza groans as she rouses from her nap. There’s an ache that’s starting to crawl into her head, and she wonders if she’s just had too much to drink earlier (she thinks she’s done a pretty good job of turning down the offers of free, expensive wine though). She rubs at her temples wearily, blinking hard in an attempt to dispel some of the lingering fatigue.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

“Yes,” she answers, without hesitation. Riza straightens in her seat, smoothing out the creases in her outfit. It’s a fitting, champagne-coloured number that is as meddlesome as it is pretty. (Riza hasn’t worn something like this in a while, simply because there hadn’t been any occasion to. She thinks she’ll probably have a hard time getting out of it later.) She opens the door and stretches her legs out. “Let’s go, sir.”

“Alright.”

The motel is just like any other motel, Riza thinks. It’s old and musty and right in the middle of nowhere, managed by a receptionist who’s clearly half-asleep at their workstation. They check in under the guise of a civilian, childless couple, as usual. Elizabeth and Andrew Ditlev, yes, a room for two. We won’t be needing anything else, thank you. There’s the sound of keys jangling and paper notes rustling, and then she’s dragging her feet up the creaking stairs towards their room on the second floor, Roy’s hand hovering uncertainly over her back.

Riza nudges it away and reassures him that she’s just fine. (He continues fretting, anyway.)

—

It’s only after she’s taken a shower that Riza notes the irregularity in their room.

“Sorry,” Roy says. There’s a sheepish edge to his voice, but the way he’s grinning tells her that he’s not altogether unhappy about their current predicament. “I tried asking for another pillow, but reception said they’ve none left.”

Riza frowns. She moves to sit on the edge of the queen-sized bed, drying her hair with a thin towel. It’s not uncommon for them to share a bed; going on these undercover operations as a loving, married couple meant that it was only logical for them to do so. It’s not like she has anything against it, either, but she’s always maintained a distance from him, even while on the same bed. They usually sleep with their backs turned (although Roy has a peculiar habit of snaking his arm around her waist just before daybreak).

“Sorry,” Roy repeats, stifling a yawn. He’s already taken the liberty of going shirtless, while she was bathing. “You can take the pillow, if you’d like. I can go without.”

Riza shakes her head and gestures towards the shower.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

He yawns again, dragging himself to the shower.

“Really, Lieutenant. It’s no hassle at all.”

Water starts running again, from the shower. Riza shifts towards the nightstand and picks up the phone. There’s a little note beside — press ‘0’ for reception and/or room service.

She does exactly that.

“What?”

“Hello,” Riza greets in response. “I’m calling from Room 204. We were wondering if you happened to have a spare pillow —”

“I already told you we have no more pillows,” the receptionist interrupts, groggily. Riza picks up on the poorly-concealed hint of annoyance and, somewhat annoyed herself, apologises insincerely for the apparent inconvenience caused. “Goodnight.”

The phone line goes dead.

Riza huffs. She puts the phone down and mutters something to herself about cheap motels and their stinginess. Resignedly, she fluffs the lone pillow and moves to lie down once her hair’s dry. (She thinks she’ll continue to keep her hair in a manageable bob like this, just for convenience’s sake — even if Roy prefers it otherwise.)

“Lieutenant,” he calls, sounding scandalised. Riza cracks an eyelid open and stares at him, as if to say, what? (She still has no idea how men do this so quickly, even after all these years in the military. It barely takes more than a minute for them to finish their ablutions, even though their bodies are nearly twice the size of hers. Thrice, if she’s including people like Major Armstrong in the count.) “What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Or trying to.”

Roy makes a sound of disapproval as he dries himself (Riza turns away respectfully at this) and puts on his pajamas. She feels his weight on the mattress once he’s done, and when she refuses to budge from a spot he starts poking her from behind, like a needy child badgering their parents for an impossible gift (she doesn’t even remember behaving like this as a young girl).

Riza groans and rolls her shoulders. “What?”

“I told you to take the pillow, Lieutenant.”

“I told you it was fine.”

He clucks his tongue. Roy rolls her around to face him, and she bites her lips to stifle another groan.

“Stubborn as always, aren’t you?”

“Pot, kettle,” Riza murmurs wearily. She can barely keep her eyes open at this point, much less keep up with his nonsensical, baseless arguments. “Go to sleep, sir.”

Roy tries, vainly, to slip the pillow under her head a few minutes later, but Riza elbows him in the ribs and pulls the blanket over them, effectively ceasing the argument. He huffs petulantly and closes his eyes.

—

“Trouble sleeping?”

“No,” Riza mumbles, but it’s a lie. She knows that he knows it’s one. (It’s no secret that both of them have had trouble sleeping since the war.)

“You’re lying,” he says, though not accusingly.

Riza ignores him and clutches a handful of the motel’s standard-issue white blanket. She covers her eyes with them and tries to sleep, again, but she fails spectacularly at this otherwise simple task. There’s just something about motels and their pastel walls and background music that tends to set her on edge. Maybe it’s because it’s so unlike what she’s used to. (She’s fallen asleep to the sound of gunshots and explosions, more times than she has to Debussy.) Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s no longer sleeping on a single-sized bed, by herself.

“Are you sure you don’t want the pillow?”

“No.”

“Stubborn as ever,” he mutters. She thinks he’s given up on fighting a losing battle, when she feels his arms pulling her close.

“With all due respect —”

“Nothing inappropriate, Lieutenant. I promise you.” She struggles to free herself from his grip, but clearly, all the work he’s been putting at the gym lately has paid off. Riza glares at him, murderously. He simply grins. “Since they ran out of pillows, we’ll simply have to make one.”

“What, with alchemy?”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound entirely implausible.” Riza is about to push herself off his chest, when he tightens his grip around her. “But it’s late, and I’m tired, and besides, we’re supposed to be an ordinary couple, nothing else.”

The word rolls off his tongue infuriatingly. Riza gets the peculiar feeling that he’s enjoying this far more than he should be. She frowns, glancing at him from beneath her lashes.

“I do tend to move around a lot in my sleep, sir.”

“I know.” He shrugs against her, positioning her head so that it’s resting comfortably on his chest. Then Roy wraps his arms around her again, almost gleefully, uncaringly, as if there’s nothing inappropriate about their shared embrace. Riza huffs. “But it’s fine. Anything to help my favourite subordinate sleep.”

“How very kind of you, sir,” Riza mutters drily. She attempts, somewhat furtively, to tickle him - she knows all his weak spots by now - but Roy dodges it with surprising agility, like he would a bullet.

“Of course. Please make sure to give me a good performance review when the time comes,” he says, smirking in a way she can only describe as insufferable.

“Only if you stop drooling all over your desk.”

“For the record, I do not,” he says, with an injured sniff.

Riza rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t protest further. She won’t admit it aloud, but it’s nice, being held like this. Roy is unusually sweet in a way that he isn’t anywhere else. He hasn’t been this way since they were kids.

“Yes, you do,” Riza retorts softly, ignoring the lump in her throat.

(This scene is achingly familiar, like a vignetted memory, like an excerpt of a film she already knows the ending to. The ending is always the same in her dreams.)

Laughter rumbles from his chest. It is a lovely sound to hear, after a long day of work, but it rubs against her cheek ingratiatingly, and Riza makes a mental note to write a letter to the hotel when they’re back in the city — a not-too-gentle reminder to stock up on pillows and other necessities.

“We can save this argument for another time, Lieutenant. It’s two in the morning.”

Riza relents, because it is two in the morning. She thinks sleep should claim her now, rather than later; she’s been trying to cut down on her caffeine intake lately. But Roy starts stroking her hair, and then her back, like he’s trying to lull a child to sleep, and Riza has to swallow the satisfied hum lurking in her throat (she refuses to give him any satisfaction of knowing that she is, in fact, enjoying this, far more than she has any right to).

Riza clears her throat. She pushes his arm away.

“I’m not a cat, you know.”

Laughter, again. The caressing stops. She feels him pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and then he’s hugging her again, one arm resting languidly on her side like she’s some sort of a replacement bolster.

“I know. Goodnight, Riza,” he says, softly.

She doesn’t have the heart to remind him that they’re still on a mission.

“Goodnight,” Riza whispers. There’s a part of her that aches, yearns for this moment to be something more than a(nother) fleeting, stippled memory, but her bliss is abruptly broken by the commotion coming from upstairs — something about an adulterous affair and impecuniosity.

Riza shifts uneasily and tries to drown it all out by focusing on his heartbeat instead. It’s audible beneath her cheek — not quite like a lullaby, but close enough — just a gentle hum of life, enough to quell her frazzled nerves and lull her back into peace.

When she falls asleep at last, Riza dreams of something different, something that stems from her deepest desires.

(In her dreams, she’s in a white dress, and Roy is radiantly alive in a sunlit attic.)

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

You’re All I Want - Shinsou Hitoshi

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: 18+ (Smut) Words: 5,073 Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/F!Reader (Aged up/Pro Hero) Warnings: Oral (Male receiving), Oral (Female receiving), vaginal sex, pet names. AN: Here is my entry for this month’s BNHarem NSFW collab! Special thanks to @unbreakablekiribaku​ for supporting me as usual and listening to me ramble on about my favorite purple boy. Title taken from a song by Cigarettes After Sex because I am soft today. We all had the same starter for this collab, so it’s important to read that first so you understand the set up! (It’s kind of like a choose your own adventure!)

Collab Masterlist (IMPORTANT: READ THIS FIRST)

My Masterlist Buy Me a KoFi?

----

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, shucking off the mask onto the ground beside you. It wasn’t like they’d be able to see your face back here, or you hoped not, and the thing was itchy.

There hadn’t been much instruction on what to do, so you decided to make yourself comfortable on the pillows and wait in the near darkness, feeling a little annoyed that they’d taken your phone, even though you understood why. 

You gazed through the hole, trying to see if you could make out anything on the other side. You could hear music, the slightly muffled guitar from some classic rock playing for the party guests made you giggle a bit. Blowing some random hero while listening to 80’s hair metal through a hole in the wall was not how you had been picturing spending your Saturday night, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Before you could dwell on that anymore, you heard a sharp knocking on the wall, the light coming from the hole in the wall suddenly cut off when someone stepped in front of it. You had a feeling this was your cue. 

You shuffled over on your knees, grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and tried to ignore how much your hands were shaking. You knew what you were doing. This wasn’t your first time sucking a cock. The situation was different, of course, but if you closed your eyes, you could just pretend it was someone else, right? 

Letting your mind wander, you wet your lips when the man on the other side of the wall shoved his dick through the hole, starting with kitten licks and light sucks on the tip. You closed your eyes and thought about the object of most of your fantasies, pretending it was him sitting heavy on your tongue, bracing your hand on the wall in front of you as you used the other to grab the base of the man’s cock and pump him slowly.

Being a barista wasn’t the most exciting job, but your regular customers somehow made things seem less dull. One man in particular always had you vibrating with excitement the moment he walked through the door. He usually strolled in during the mid-morning, his purple hair defying gravity, his face holding the look of someone who didn’t get enough sleep. He did always manage a small smirk in your direction when you greeted him, already working on his preferred drink order before he could even open his mouth. Black coffee with a double shot of espresso and a blueberry muffin. He never strayed or asked for anything different. 

He would pay for his order and then lean his hip against the counter on the far end, arms crossed over his chest as he kept his eyes trained on you. It made you feel hot all over, your mouth dry and your thighs clenching as he watched you work, his apparent interest in you making you feel exposed and raw. You had half a mind to grab him by his shirt and drag him over the counter so you could press your lips to his, the sexual tension that his gaze created nearly driving you mad.

But as always, you would walk over and slide him his drink and pastry bag, biting your lip and looking up at him from under your eyelashes, wishing him a good day. He would always give you another once over, and sometimes his fingers would brush yours as he took his breakfast, his deep voice rumbling in thanks. He would smirk at you again before turning and walking out of the shop, leaving you to melt into a puddle of sexually frustrated goo behind the counter.

You’d entertained the idea of writing your number on his cup, wondering if he would text you, imagining what he would say if you asked him out sometime. It was a shame you were too nervous about doing anything other than flirting over the counter, too scared even to attempt to hold a conversation with him. You’d have to resort to using your overactive imagination to your advantage for the task at hand.

With the music still blaring in the other room, you could just barely hear the man on the other side of the wall moaning as his cock twitched in your mouth, your tongue gliding over the vein on the underside while you hollowed your cheeks around him. Humming, you took him as deep as you could, feeling triumphant when you felt him shudder, thick ropes of cum shooting into your mouth. 

You pulled off and spit into the nearby trash can, going back to lick the man clean, and then chugging on your water bottle. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, and the hole was empty once again. Sitting back, you sighed. That hadn’t been as bad as you thought it would be, though you figured it was probably because your mind was elsewhere. You just needed to keep this up for the rest of the night, and then you’d collect your giant wad of cash and be on your way.

--

Hours passed, men came (literally) and went, and your jaw was starting to feel sore. You had no idea how much longer you had, but you’d been putting forth your best skills while thinking about the purple-haired coffee man to pass the time. 

There was a knock on the wall, so you sat up from where you were slumped against it, grabbed another water bottle, wet your mouth, and got ready to go back to work. Since your eyes had adapted to the darkness of the room, you’d been trying to get a good look at the different dicks that had been shoved through the hole as the night progressed. You’d yet to be disappointed, and men at this party were giving you unrealistic expectations for real life. The one that was in front of you now, however, was probably the nicest and one of the biggest you’d seen so far.

Suddenly feeling eager to prove to yourself that you could handle the size of it, you shuffled forward on your knees and wrapped your hand around it, stroking slowly and letting your tongue poke out to lick at the bead of precum that had already gathered at the tip. The music fading from one song and into the next in the other room allowed you to hear the groan of pleasure coming from the man, your ears perking up, and legs clenching together. 

His voice was deep, just like the man in every one of your fantasies. You’d made yourself cum just thinking about that voice whispering in your ear, low and thick like honey, praising you for taking his cock so well, growling and moaning about how good your pussy felt around him. You let your eyes close, humming and focusing all your efforts into giving this man the best blow job of his life, picturing purple hair and a sharp jawline, smirking lips caught between straight teeth, bulging biceps and long fingers. You wished you could feel his fingers in your hair as you took him as deep as you could, relaxing your throat and rolling your tongue around his length, practically choking around him as tears gathered in your eyes.

You swore you heard that voice again, a drawn-out curse coming from the other side of the wall as his cock twitched in your mouth and he came, and for the first time all night, you swallowed all he had to give you, too caught up in the moment to worry about spitting it in the trash. 

Before you knew what was happening, he was gone, not even letting you clean him up. You fell back, gasping for air and trying to figure out what happened. Your cunt was throbbing, and your chest was heaving as you reached blindly for the water bottle beside you. Did you do something wrong? He seemed to have been enjoying himself, but it was hard to tell with the wall between you.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because there was a knock from the door you’d entered the room from, and suddenly the girl who had led you back here was standing there, smiling at you. “Are you doing okay?”

Nodding, you stood up. “Yeah, am I done?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame. “That depends. Do you want to make a little extra?”

Eyebrows furrowed, you frowned. “What? How?”

“Someone is requesting you for some special one on one time if you’re interested. It would involve more than just a blow job, so if you’re okay with that, I can take you to the bathroom and then to the room he’s rented for you.”

Your eyes widened, mouth suddenly dry. “Someone requested me?”

Chuckling, she shot you a grin. “You impressed him. He was insistent about it being you, so you must have given him the best head of his life or something.” 

Biting your lip, you deliberated. You had promised yourself not to get too involved with this world. It was supposed to be quick and easy money. 

“If it helps, it was the last guy you were just with, like not even 10 minutes ago.” 

The man with the deep voice and giant cock. Well, fuck.

“I...yeah. Okay.”

“Great!” She clapped her hands. “Grab your mask and follow me. I’ll take you to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth, then I’ll bring you to the private room.”

You nodded, picking up the mask and putting it back on your face, concealing your identity again. You followed her from the room and to a bathroom, a sealed toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on the sink. You used the bathroom quickly, brushing your teeth and checking your eyeliner, before slipping the mask back down over your eyes and stepping back into the hallway. 

She led you into an elevator and then down a hallway, stopping in front of a closed door before turning to you. “You’re not obligated to do anything you don’t want to do. There are condoms, and there is lube in the top drawer of the table next to the bed. If you feel unsafe or uncomfortable for any reason, there will be a guard outside the door to keep watch, and you can get their attention if you need help, just in case.”

Suddenly nervous, you nodded again.

“I know this guy, though, and he’s a good man. You don’t have anything to worry about. When you’re done, the guard will bring you back downstairs so you can collect your pay and your things, okay?” She offered you a calming smile. “Have fun!”

You didn’t say anything, offering her a weak smile in return before turning your attention to the door. Your palms were sweaty as you reached out to grasp the handle, pushing it open. Taking a deep breath, you walked inside and closed it behind you.

When your eyes met with the amethyst ones on the other side of the room, your heart stopped.

“Uh, hi.” He stepped forward, his hands in his pockets. You took in the way he bit down on his bottom lip, eyes traveling down over the black button-up shirt he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the glint of the watch on his wrist in the table lamp light spilling across the hotel room.

It was him, the object of your every desire, and he was standing there looking at you nervously, his hair sticking up attractively as usual.

“Black coffee, double shot espresso, blueberry muffin.” You said dumbly, your mouth moving before your brain could process what you were saying.

“I...what? How do you know my breakfast order?” His eyebrows furrowed, confused. 

Pulling off your mask, you shook out your hair and stared at him, not sure what else to say. You felt completely out of your depth, and it was taking everything in you not to throw yourself forward and kiss him.

“Holy shit.” Letting out a breath, he started moving toward you again. “It’s you.”

When he stopped moving, he was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him. You couldn’t believe your luck. Remembering what the girl had told you, you shivered. When you’d heard that low voice through the wall, you’d thought of him, but to know that it actually was him was a whole different thing. “I didn’t know you were a hero.”

Your eyes slid closed when you felt him touch the side of your face and push back a piece of your hair, his fingers leaving a warm trail in their wake. “Yeah, underground, but yeah.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “I didn’t know you did-”

“I don’t!” Your eyes flew open in alarm. “I mean, not usually. Just needed some extra money to get caught up on student loans…” You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your gaze falling to the floor. “This is my first time doing something like this.”

“Me too.” His fingers on your chin lifted your face to look back up at him. “I didn’t want it to be like this...I wanted to ask you out properly.”

Gazing up at him in disbelief, you stuttered. “I...you did?”

It was his turn to blush. “Yeah, I was just trying to figure out what to say.” His hand dropped to curl around your hip. “But now we’re here…”

Feeling bold, knowing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, you let your hands rest on his chest, the feeling of solid muscle beneath it, causing you to shiver. “Yeah, we are. So what do we do now?”

“I can think of a few things.” The smirk that made your knees weak was back on his face. “Like this, maybe.”

Your breath caught when he leaned forward, your eyes closing when his lips met yours. It was a hesitant press at first, sweet and soft, making your heartbeat quicken with anticipation. Breathing deeply through your nose, you let your fingers tangle in his lavender locks, pushing yourself closer and kissing him harder. You’d wanted this for so long, and you weren’t going to let this moment go to waste.

He hummed lowly, both hands on your waist holding you close to him, his tongue slipping out to trace along your lips. You parted them, allowing him entrance and shivering when he licked into your mouth. Sighing, you arched into him, feeling his palms slide down to grab your ass.

Pulling back, the both of you panted, your eyes sliding open to gaze up at him. Swallowing thickly, you licked your lips. “This is all happening so fast.” You said slowly. “I don’t even know your name.” 

Smirking, he bent slightly, his hands slipping behind your thighs and lifting you quickly. “It’s Shinsou.” He turned and walked towards the bed, dropping you unceremoniously onto the mattress. “And yours is Y/N, right? I remember it from your nametag.”

You nodded, half distracted watching him pull your skirt down your legs, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. Sitting up, you began unbuttoning his shirt, sighing when you felt his lips on your neck.

“I know this is sudden, but you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” He mumbled against your skin. “And knowing that you were the one who sucked my cock through that wall makes me regret not doing something sooner.”

“I was pretending it was you.” Finishing with the buttons, you untucked the shirt from his pants and worked on pulling it down his arms. “I heard you moan, and I thought it sounded like you, and I just let my mind wander a little…”

Chuckling, he pulled back, shrugging his shirt off and lifting his undershirt over his head. Your hands went to his chest immediately, tracing lines over the hard muscles and up over his shoulders.

“Do you think about me often?”

Blushing, you sat back, pulling your top over your head. “More often than I’d like to admit.”

He reached behind you, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra. “It sounds like we’ve been wasting too much time. We could have been doing this a long time ago.” He tossed the offending garment somewhere behind him, looming over you when you laid back. “Guess I should make up for it now, huh?”

Before you could answer, he was kissing you again, one hand wandering down your side, his other arm bent and keeping him from crushing you under his weight. His mouth moved to kiss along your jaw and down your neck, your chest heaving as he nibbled on your clavicle, his warm tongue laving at your skin. 

Your breath hitched as he moved lower, trailing kisses over your breast, his mouth latching around your nipple and sucking at it, teeth scraping over the hardening bud. “Shinsou…” You trailed off, breathless and panting, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands found his hair, digits curling into his purple locks and nails scratching at his scalp.

He must have enjoyed the feeling, a low moan rumbling from his chest as he switched to your other breast, giving it the same attention. His fingers dug into your hip, keeping you still as you attempted to wiggle in his hold, needing some kind of friction for the throbbing between your thighs. 

“Impatient, are we?” He asked lowly, kissing down your stomach and sliding down the bed some more. “Don’t worry, kitten. I’m going to take care of you.”

You whimpered at the nickname, closing your eyes when you felt his fingers slide under the elastic around your waist, tugging your panties down your legs. Warm breath ghosted over your inner thighs when he spread your legs to rest between them, his thumbs drawing comforting circles across your flesh.

“You gave me the best blow job of my life. It only seems fair for me to return the favor.” His thumbs moved to spread you open, his tongue sliding along your slit without warning.

Your hips left the bed, your head rolling as your back arched, your body unprepared. “Shinsou! Fuck!” His hands held you down as he descended on you, tongue laving greedily at your cunt, slurping up your juices and sucking on your clit with abandon.

“God, you were so wet already, how turned on were you? You must have been thinking about me pretty hard down there in that little room.” A kiss was pressed to your thigh as he caught his breath. “Why don’t you tell me what you were imagining, hmm?”

Opening your mouth to reply, all you could manage was a low moan when he dove back in, his tongue circling your entrance before traveling back up to your clit again. 

“Answer me, kitten.”

Sucking in a breath, the vibrations from his voice shooting straight through you, making it hard to think, you tried to answer again. “Thought about you bending me over the counter in the coffee shop…”

He hummed, and your eyes rolled back, body tensing when he let one of his hands move down lower, one finger sliding inside you. “I’ve thought about that too.”

“Shinsou, please. I want you to fuck me.” You felt pathetic, practically begging him, months of pent up longing for the man between your thighs finally spilling forth as he sucked on your clit and stretched you with a second finger. “I want you to fill me up.”

Groaning, you felt his teeth graze against you, his fingers curling, the squelching sound filling the room a testament to how wet you were as he pressed against your g spot, adding another digit. “Fuck, you want it that badly?”

You shivered, your legs aching, and your toes curling. You couldn’t even form a sentence if you wanted to, the coil in your belly tightening with every caress of his tongue along your pussy. The feeling of his long, calloused fingers stroking along your inner walls and the vibrations of his moans when you tensed around them made it hard to focus. You barely registered his hips moving against the bed in time with the thrust of his fingers, obviously just as into it as you were.

“Come for me, kitten, and I’ll give you what you want.” He moaned, the tip of his tongue flicking quickly over your clit again.

The tone of his voice, rough and full of lust, was enough to push you over the edge. You came with a cry, head thrown back against the pillows, vision whiting out at the intensity of your orgasm. 

Shinsou groaned as he coaxed you through your release, pulling back only when he felt you go boneless beneath him. You gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, trying to pull air into your lungs, watching as he sat back and wiped his mouth on his arm. “You okay, kitten?”

You managed to nod, watching as he shuffled off the bed and over to the table beside it, opening the top drawer and pulling a condom out. Sitting up on your elbows, you licked your lips, anticipating what was about to happen. Everything was moving quickly, but you’d been dreaming about sharing these intimate moments with him for so long that you couldn’t be bothered with worrying about what would happen tomorrow.

He made quick work of his belt, his pants falling around his narrow waist as he unbuttoned them, revealing purple boxers that matched his hair. He caught you watching, raising his eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic band on his boxer briefs. “See something you like?”

Teasing him, you grinned. “I told you, I've been thinking about this for a while.” You couldn’t help ogling him. You would have never guessed his body would look this way beneath the oversized t-shirts he usually wore when he came into your job every morning.

He laughed at your blatant staring, biting his lip. “You did mention that.” He shook his hips to tease you as he pulled down his pants and boxers, making you giggle. You liked how he could make you feel comfortable, and insanely turned on at the same time. 

Crawling up the bed, he settled in between your legs on his knees, his large hand moving to stroke his cock. He picked up the condom, ripped the foil packet, and rolled it onto his length. He gripped your thighs, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. “You ready?”

Tilting your chin up, you kissed him, your fingers tangling in his hair. You could taste yourself on his lips, feel his heart beating when you let your other hand rest against his chest. You were more than ready to let this man wreck you. “I’m ready.”

He dropped his head to your shoulder as he positioned himself and pushed his hips forward, groaning as he entered you. The stretch was just on the edge of painful, and you tried to stifle your cry as you tucked your face into the space between his neck and shoulder, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you arched up off the mattress.

“Fuck…”He breathed, pulling out and pushing back in further. “You’re so tight.”

Uncurling to lay back against the pillows, your hands moved to wrap around his biceps, his arms caging you in on either side as he moved in and out of you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You weren’t sure you’d ever been with someone as big as he was, and as the burning sensation of the stretch slowly turned to pleasure, you felt like you’d been missing out.

He finally paused when he was fully seated inside you, his lips pressing against the skin of your shoulder, and then up your neck and jaw until he was able to look into your eyes. You briefly thought about how bizarre the entire situation was, how you’d been pining after this guy you were too afraid to speak to, and now he was balls deep inside you in a lavish hotel room where he was paying to fuck you. At least he had confessed he was actually interested in you outside of all of this, so maybe that meant you had a shot at something with him. You didn’t really want to think about the money portion of it all because that was too much to unpack at that very moment, deciding instead to focus on how he was looking at you reverently, and he was not moving. “Shinsou, you gotta move, please. I’m-”

Lips curling up into a smirk, he kissed you. “I’ve got you, kitten, don’t worry.” His arm moved from your side, his hand curling around your thigh and lifted your leg slightly, and then he was pulling back and slamming his hips forward.

Your hips rose off the bed to meet him, pleasure coursing through you as he started a brutal pace, each thrust making your toes curl and your eyes roll back. You managed to wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer as he leaned over and grabbed the ornate headboard of the bed above you, using it for leverage as he rammed his cock into you over and over again.

“God, fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to-” He broke off, grunting when you clenched around him. “You’re so wet for me, kitten. I could fuck you like this all night. Would you like that?”

At that moment, it sounded like the single greatest idea you’d ever heard. “Shinsou, don’t stop!” 

Growling, he picked up the pace, letting go of the headboard to grab your legs, folding them between your bodies. The angle let him slide in deeper, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. You felt so full, the scent of his cologne surrounding you, the sound of his low moans and panting breaths echoing through the room. You keened, your fingers white-knuckling the sheets beside you, concentrating on the building pressure in your lower belly.

Every muscle in your legs was screaming, pleading gibberish spilling from your lips as you begged him to keep going, climbing higher and higher as he fucked you into the mattress. He sat back on his knees, positioning your legs over his shoulders and leaning forward again, kissing you to quiet your babbling. You couldn’t get enough of the taste, your fingers weaving through his drooping hair, delirious and consumed by him at that moment. He trailed his lips down to your chest, mouth closing around your nipple and sucking hard, scraping it with his teeth and soothing with his tongue. You barely registered his hand moving, his deft fingers finding your clit in between your sweat-slicked bodies, rubbing harsh circles over it. “Come on, kitten. I want to feel you come apart around me.”

Warm breath over your sensitive chest had you mewling, your back arching, your body pulled taught and finally snapping, cries of his name repeated like a prayer as you fell over the edge, drowning in ecstasy.

The moan that left him was just short of animalistic as he moved back, hips slamming against yours again and again as he chased his high, your pussy fluttering around him, gripping him and sucking him back in every time he drew back. “So fucking good for me, kitten.”

His rhythm became uneven, his grip on you loosening, hips slowing as he came. You watched the way his brow creased, his abs tightening as he unloaded into the condom. You found yourself half wishing he was cumming inside you, so fucked out that rational thought was off the table. He ground against you one last time until he was slumping forward, your legs falling off his shoulders and to the side. 

You hummed, petting his hair back from his forehead. You felt him smile against your skin, his nose brushing your cheek as he tried to catch his breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” You cleared your throat, your voice raw. “I’m good. Really good.”

Chuckling, he kissed your cheek, huffing as he lifted himself off of you. He pulled off the condom and tied it before shuffling off the bed and pulling on his boxers, wandering off in the direction of what you assumed was the bathroom. 

You took that moment to assess how weak your legs felt, cursing your choice of footwear, and wondering how you were going to walk. Shinsou appeared again a moment later, a wet washcloth in his hand. You let him clean you up, blushing but appreciating his kindness.

When he was satisfied, you took a deep breath and sat up, moving slowly as you stood up on shaky legs, gathering your clothes and redressing yourself. You suddenly felt awkward, not sure what to say or do. Did he want to see you again?

“Do you have work tomorrow?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence. 

Blinking up at him, you shook your head. “I’m off on the weekends. I’ll be in on Monday morning.”

Scratching the back of his neck nervously, he nodded. “I...good. Okay. I’ll see you then, right?”

“Unless you’re going to go somewhere else for your coffee, then yes, you’ll see me.” You frowned. “Did you not want to-”

“No! Oh god, I’m making a mess of things, aren’t I? I just mean I was worried you wouldn’t want me to come-” He groaned. “I feel like I’m making this more awkward than it needs to be.”

“You said it, not me.” You teased. “I’ll see you Monday, and we can talk then, okay?”

“I’d ask for your number, but neither of us has our phone.” He stepped forward, tipping your chin so you could gaze up at him. His lips pressing against yours sent a shiver down your spine again. “I’ll see you Monday.”

You barely remembered leaving the room or following the guard down to where your things were locked up, or the amount of the check you received before you left. 

All that was on your mind were sleepy amethyst eyes and lips curled into a knowing smirk, soft smiles, and urgent kisses, the way his voice sounded when he called you kitten.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married.  Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan.  And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

-

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

-

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

-

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

-

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

-

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”