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you-know-honey · 3 days ago

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A Strange Guy

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Summary: Jayce needs to go to Undercity for certain materials if he wants to continue his secret project. Which ends up taking him to the only crazy person who take risks to take him. You. Even if it ends up getting you into more serious problems than street fights.

Series: The Path of Zaun

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N/A: English is not my first language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll update it. Remember share if you liked it.

Knock…Knock…Knock

The knocking on the door started softly, like the sound of a drop on wood, almost imperceptible to your ears. The cold air of Piltover came through the window, clean air, so pure that even after so many years your lungs were still not used to it. In undercity you were used to the heavy, dry air, the damp, sticky streets, but above all, dark, where the sun was barely a mirage and everything was ruled by shadows. In the great city of progress everything was full of unusual energy, each piece destined to move with millimetric precision, full of light even at night.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocking became louder, making the beams of your very humble bedroom at the academy vibrate. It was not how you had thought you would end up. A small apartment, so old that you thought maybe Professor Heirmerdinger himself lived there when it was just new, but you couldn't expect anything less, without a last name to bear or a sponsor watching your back it was all you had, and still it was better than having nothing like in undercity.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You woke up with a start, your back creaking as you stood up from the chair and stretched. Some of your notes were stuck to your face and the ink had been ruined by your drool. You were a complete mess right now, but who would come to your room at this hour? The clock read 2:36 AM. You ran your hands over your face trying to help you wake up and tear the papers off your face.

You walked as best you could to the door, tripping over everything in your way. You swung the door open, through the shadows of the night and your irritated eyes, you focused on a tall, burly man standing in front of you.

“What do you want?” you asked. You weren’t in the mood for whatever that guy needed, besides only one person in the world had the right to visit you in the middle of the night and it definitely wasn’t him.

“Are you Y/N?” he seemed quite nervous, playing with his fingers and avoiding eye contact with you.

You refrained from answering for a moment, if this was some kind of joke from your classmates they would pay dearly for waking you up at this hour. “Who’s asking?”

The boy didn’t seem to expect that answer but he answered as quickly as he could, as if he was holding back from spitting out a wave of words.

“Jayce Talis”

I think the raised eyebrow on your face gave him the message that you had no idea who the hell he was, maybe that’s why he seemed embarrassed.

“Mhmm, and what is Jayce Talis doing knocking on my door?” You leaned back against the door with your arms crossed. “I don’t think you’re coming here just to introduce yourself.”

The boy cleared his throat, as if he was gaining courage to be more firm in his way of speaking.

“You’re from undercity, right?”

“You got it, congratulations.” I joked, giving him a sarcastic, slow applause.

You snapped your fingers in front of him when you caught him looking behind you. “What do you need?”

The academy was very clear about where they wanted to invest the funds they received. The biology faculty was one of the last places on their priority list. It had been years since any of the projects proposed by their students had borne fruit or even been promising. This was the reason why you fell asleep on your desk that night, working on your own project.

“I need you to take me there.”

Your eyes widened before bursting into a loud laugh.

“You? In undercity? Are you crazy?” You’ll be eaten alive.” You tried to stop laughing when the boy’s brow furrowed in disgust, but you couldn’t imagine a guy like him, so well dressed in a place like your home.

The light of a flashlight at the end of the hallway caught both of your attention, your laughter had attracted a police officer who was making rounds in the academy.

“I don’t think you should be here, Jayce Talis” you smiled, ready to close the door and have someone else take care of him.

The man clenched his jaw and clenched his fists, he was annoyed, not at all pleased with you playing with him, the police officer’s increasingly closer steps left them little time to act.

“Hey!” you shouted when the man pushed you aside and snuck into your room, closing the door behind him.

You didn’t say anything when the police officer’s flashlight stopped in front of your door a few seconds before continuing his rounds. The academy was very strict about students in the hallways, their strategy had been foolish and risky. You could scream, alert the police about him…but you wouldn’t, because then you would bear the brunt of the possible punishment.

“What is all this?” he asked, moving from the door to walk curiously around the small living room.

Behind your back, what you had tried to hide from him, was your small private laboratory. The desk was overflowing without space, filled with papers and notebooks in total disarray, one of the walls was completely covered with terrariums, large ones with flowers that possibly no one in Piltover had ever seen before. A sight for someone so curious to Jayce.

“It’s none of your business” you replied, there was no way to excuse the sight, it was just what it seemed. You let yourself fall on the couch reluctantly.

He smiled maliciously “Maybe not, but I bet Professor Heimerdinger did”

Your body rose as if a spring from the couch had lifted it, you grabbed one of the books on the nightstand, the thickest one and threw it in his direction, with such good luck that you managed to hit him directly in the forehead.

“If you say anything I’ll kill you!” you screamed while trying to keep your composure and relax your agitated breathing.

He didn’t scream in pain, although you were sure he would have if it weren’t for the fact that the policeman would have surely heard him and well…it was the female student wing “Crazy…” he sighed while touching his forehead with his fingers, luckily there was no blood. He took the chair from your desk and turned it to sit in front of you, with a grimace you dropped back down onto the couch. “Let’s make a deal.”

You had no other choice so you just nodded.

“Take me to undercity and Heimerdinger will never know about… whatever you do here.” he said as he pointed at the terrariums.

“They’re toxin purifiers…” you muttered under your breath. You weren’t happy that they treated your job like a simple child’s game.

“What?”

“They’re plants that purify the air and earth of toxins, I’m trying to make them work on a large scale.”

“I’ve never seen that kind of plants,” he exclaimed, and it made sense, they were rare and it had been extremely difficult for you to find them, they glowed in the dark, some with leaves that seemed to move like tentacles, others gave the image of a skull.

You let out a small, egotistical and proud smile. “Of course not. They are plants from undercity”

“How did you get them?” he asked, standing up and bringing his hand closer to the glass of one of the terrariums.

“What do you think?” you walked towards him as soon as you saw him approach the terrarium, you had been working on this project for years and you weren’t going to let any of his imprudences ruin it.

He rolled his eyes, you weren’t being easy to deal with, not that you wanted to be. He let out a small growl before turning around to glare at you.

“Are you always this charming?”

“Only with those who enter my room without permission.” You forced a smile.

He sighed again, massaging his temples in frustration.

“Let’s stop playing games, take me to undercity tonight and no one will know about your research. Period.” He crossed his arms, seeming very determined to continue with this crazy idea.

You thought of some way to dissuade him from that, but he seemed too sure and perhaps too desperate for you to convince him. There weren't many undercity students in the academy, you could count them on the fingers of one hand and you would have fingers left over, but you supposed that no one was crazy enough to go down again after all the comforts that the academy offered.

“Why do you want to go?” You asked, giving up, after all if it was something simple you could do it, otherwise you would hit his head with something and leave him in the main hallway so it would seem like it was just a bad dream.

“It's none of your business” he replied, almost in the same tone that you spoke to him.

“You already stuck your nose in my business, it's only fair that I do the same.” He also sighed and sat back down in the chair.

Both of you were realizing that their pride would only lead them to an ego fight until dawn and neither of them were comfortable with something like that.

“I need some machinery parts…” he said, obviously not wanting to reveal too much and biting his tongue to avoid accidentally saying anything too much.

“Machinery parts? You could get that at any market here.” you snorted, finding it ridiculous that he wanted to go down for something he could get in much better condition in Piltover.

“They are specific parts, I couldn’t get them here without raising suspicions” he mentioned, taking a notebook out of his vest.

You hadn’t noticed that he had something inside his clothes, it made your hair stand on end to think that it could have been a weapon and you hadn’t noticed. You swept those paranoid thoughts from your mind to continue listening to him.

“Show me and I’ll tell you where to get it” you walked slowly behind him, leaning an elbow to rest your face on his shoulder, he winced but you didn’t care.

He opened the book to one of the bookmarks, very clever of him, so you wouldn't take a quick look at the rest, on the page there were very specific tools and materials, and you knew that things like that wouldn't be easy to get in the (in your opinion) very basic markets of Piltover, if he said to make them on his own, it would attract the attention of the teaching staff and since this boy had sought you out, that was probably the last thing he wanted.

You looked at the notebook for a moment, hoping to see something that would give you a clue about what he was up to. “You sign every page? A bit of an egotistical on your part.” He just rolled his eyes, but you noticed that he tried to cover his name on the page with his thumb. “Do you have money to pay for something like that? Things aren’t cheap downstairs,” you mentioned, letting your face fall on his shoulder.

“Will this be enough?” he asked, leaving in the coffe table a bag of considerable size with gold coins.

You let out a small giggle. “If you’re not easy to scam, I suppose this is enough.”

“So, do you accept?” He turned his head in surprise, getting too close to yours, both of you moving away from each other as if you were leprosy.

You thought about it for a few minutes, it seemed like something not too difficult to do, go get some gadgets and come back, it didn’t seem that difficult. It would be easy.

“Okay, deal.” You extended your hand to him, who didn’t hesitate to close the deal with a smile.

“So… are we going now?” he asked, like an excited child going on a trip for the first time.

You looked him up and down very critically, everything screamed Piltover boy.

“Not with those clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked, looking at himself for any wardrobe flaws.

“Do you want to be stripped? If you come there’s dressing like that, forget about getting anything.” You crossed your arms, thinking of something that might work, you didn’t think he had a change of clothes in his vest.

“Do you have any ideas?”

An invisible lightbulb lit up above your head, accompanied by a mischievous smile that chilled his blood. “I think so…”

“I hate you.” Jayce exclaimed. If looks could kill your body would be unrecognizable.

“Who goes on an undercity with gold details on their clothes?” you quickly replied with a murmur. It wouldn’t be wise for any police to see them right now.

“Couldn’t you get something better?” he stretched the tight collar of the shirt that clearly wasn’t his size.

“The janitor’s clothes are fine, don’t complain.” You poked your head out of one of the alleys. “A cop is coming. Against the wall.”

For once he heard you, it was funny to see him stick to the wall, a little more force and he would go through it. You did the same, clearly with more class than him. It had been a long time since you had worn those clothes, you had buried them in the back of your closet in the hopes of never wearing them again but somehow it was the most comfortable you had been in a long time.

In Jayce’s case you couldn’t say the same, he looked like a cake in the wrong mold, the poor janitor’s uniform barely fit him, the buttons were trying their best not to jump out of the buttonholes of the shirt, you didn’t even try with the shoes, they were too small so you just limited yourself to putting tape on the gold details and making him step in every mud puddle on the way to the bridge.

When the policeman walked away, far enough so that he wouldn’t hear you, you motioned for him to follow you, both of you successfully sneaking to the end.

“This place isn’t so bad” he said as you walked through the streets of the surface.

“This isn’t undercity” you mentioned, giving him a quick glance before quickening your pace and tightening your grip on the backpack on your shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, as if he didn’t expect that answer from you. Somehow that irritated you.

Going back to that place simply awakened a huge irritation inside you, you couldn't control it, it was the part of you that kept you alive all that time. Both arrived in front of an old establishment in ruins, next to a dark precipice.

“Do you want the easy way or the interesting way?” you adjusted your backpack and began to stretch all the dormant muscles in your body.

“Which is the interesting one?” He asked, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets when you pointed with your head to the precipice “The easy one, definitely the easy one” he quickly said.

You sighed, you had definitely liked the idea of jumping on roofs and sliding down pipes with the minimum of safety.

“As you wish princess” without warning you entered the place, at the back was the elevator “ I was thinking of giving you the panoramic view tour”

Jayce ran after you, as soon as he set foot inside you turned on the elevator and with the sound of old mechanism working you warned them that they were descending.

The sight in front of Jayce left him with his mouth open. The view only gave an industrial and decaying place, in the darkness the only touch of light were the saturated neon signs of some stores, he was surprised how they were still standing, above them rose buildings more similar to the architecture of Piltover, only a few could afford that luxury, as they went down the air became heavier and more humid with different smells that he preferred not to think about too much, he knew that the path would not be easy when you hid a knife in your pocket.

“Just in case” you told him. It's not like he would be of support if they found themselves in crossfire but at least it would be enough to keep away a few addicts and minor criminals.

The elevator soon filled with people and Jayce felt you press your back against his body to make him crash into the wall, you didn't look at him, nor did you apologize, it was what you were used to doing and he seemed to understand it well.

Each inhabitant had a unique style, crazy and anti-gravity hairstyles, old clothes or with patches everywhere, some with prosthetics made to make them look more intimidating than to take care of their health.

Going down you took his hand and pushed him through all the people in the elevator, you received some insults but you wisely ignored them.

Returning gave you back the feeling of hopelessness you used to live with, remembering all the time you were fighting to survive at all costs. Every inhabitant of undercity was resilient, refusing to let themselves die, clinging to life and the dream of something better with nails and teeth.

You shook your head to clear away that fog of thoughts, you weren't here to go back to the streets, you were here for work. Both of you walked in silence a few more blocks, loud and noisy music could be heard coming from most of the premises.

“Keep your eyes forward” you told him when you caught him looking at a modified weapon in the hands of a thug with an unfriendly face.

He listened to you, like a punished puppy he looked at the ground and let himself be guided to a small and lonely alley where they barely change.

“Why are we stopping?” he asked, he seemed somewhat worried. Sure two academy students caught trying to buy contraband in undercity deserved a considerable punishment if they were caught, but to be honest it was the least of the problems they could face right now.

“Show me what you need to finish this quickly.” He quickly pulled out his notebook in the correct bookmark, it was definitely things he could get here. You examined the sheets for a few moments before rushing over and tearing one of them off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he yelled at you, pulling the notebook away from you and putting it back. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was very upset about it, the way his voice sounded and the heaving movement of his chest made it very clear to you.

“I’ll give it back to you later, don’t yell, we can’t go together or we’ll attract trouble.” After all, you were the expert here. “See the beech store?” you pointed with your index finger, there was a white-haired boy cleaning the glass of the entrance.

“The one that says Benzo’s?” Jayce asked, you just nodded.

“Go to that store and look for the rest of the stuff, it’s like a premium junk store.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked as he saw you putting on some goggles that were previously hanging from your backpack.

“I going to get the rest. I'll give you 30 minutes, if you're not out of the store by then you'll be back upstairs alone.” You pulled up your shirt collar to cover your nose. “Don't let them rip you off.” Giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder you ran off until you were lost among the people.

“Wait, you don't have any money!” Jayce shouted your name but the sound was swallowed up by the noise of the people, he had no choice but to trust that you would come back. Resigned, he walked as fast as possible to the store you had indicated, as soon as he entered he was already amazed.

He was greeted by a small child with white hair, who watched him from the counter, following him with his eyes wherever he went.

“Can I touch something?” Jayce asked, in other cases he would have expected the arrival of an adult but his minutes were numbered.

“Only the ones you plan to buy.” The child answered suspiciously while playing with a wrench on the counter. He was almost sure he used the same tone of voice that you used with him all this time.

“Okay…” Jayce shrugged as he looked at all the artifacts carefully to know which one to take “It’s all stolen?” he said to himself.

“Stolen is a very big word, let’s say they were bought without permission” The boy appeared at his side as if by magic “Buy something or leave” the boy crossed his arms in front of him.

Jayce sighed and began to take things and put them on the counter, at first with some laziness and before he knew it he already had a considerable mountain of things and was going for more.

“Why do you need so many things sir?” the boy asked as he noticed how the mountain of things grew and grew.

“I’m going to do something revolutionary” Jayce said proudly, if everything went well it would change everyone’s lives forever.

The boy nodded curiously, he was willing to ask more questions until his curiosity was satisfied but the bag of gold coins caught his eye the instant it was placed on the counter.

“How much would everything cost?” asked Jayce.

The smile on the boy's face was big and malicious. "This would be enough." He quickly grabbed the bag of money and put it under the counter before his naive buyer could complain or change his mind. Jayce was more than satisfied with everything he had acquired, his mind was already plotting how he would put it all to work. He looked at the old and strange clock on the wall of the store. He still had a few minutes of free time before you arrived.

"Waiting for someone, sir?" the boy asked, playing with a gold coin between his fingers.

"Yes," Jayce replied, his gaze fixed on the door, waiting for you to enter at any second.

"What's all that noise?" Jayce asked as he heard screams and moans of pain from outside the store, as well as a huge commotion among the people walking by.

"Some idiot caused a fight." The boy seemed too used to situations like that. He got off the counter stool and approached the door, ready to put up the closed sign.

His hand only stretched a little before returning to his body at a surprising speed. The door ended up swung wide open, cracking glass and wood alike, a hooded figure dropped to the ground, trying to catch his breath.

“Put… everything in the bag… we have to go… Now!” you got up from the ground, taking off your goggles.

“There’s the idiot.” the boy calmly returned behind the counter.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jayce asked as you carelessly threw all of his recent purchases into the backpack and threw it into his arms. “What do I do with this?” your adrenaline began to spread to him, you didn’t have to say anything to him as he adjusted his backpack himself.

“I pissed off the wrong people, we have to get out of here” He grabbed your hand tightly, something that made you scream in pain, you didn’t have enough adrenaline to not feel that your wrist was really hurt. Both of you left the store and ran, you could still hear them shouting your name, it seemed impossible to lose them.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Jayce pushed you into a small alley, both of you too exhausted to take another step, but your pursuers didn’t seem tired at all and they were getting closer and closer.

“You’re getting out of here. Wait for me at the end of the bridge, I’ll lose them.” You let go of his hand before he could stop you. With shouts and exaggerated gestures you managed to get them to follow you. “Hey! Finn! You’re falling behind!” you shouted and said goodbye to Jayce with a wink.

It wasn’t hard to lose them alone, yes of course, they were thugs with guns but you knew Finn well, the last thing he would want is for a bullet to go through his former ‘treasure’. You had run into him while you were walking through the market, taking some things from here and there, just what you thought Jayce might need, you can confess, you got distracted in the food area but who could judge you? It's been years since you tried something homemade. You ended up wandering until you reached the limit between the market and the red light district, there was your limit but there was also him. His eyes were fixed on you like arrows, you tried to calm down as he approached to greet you, you weren't friends, not even good acquaintances, if it were up to you you would erase him from your mind forever. When he got closer, that's when you punched him in the golden jaw and ran away, obviously it didn't take long for him to send his bitches after you.

Getting into that kind of trouble wasn't in your plans, you cursed yourself for having let yourself be guided by nostalgia and curiosity, that shouldn't happen again.

“Come on Y/N, is this how you treat an old client?” Finn’s voice echoed in the desolate street, his thugs had disappeared from your sight but they had to be close, never too far from their master.

You remained silent, it would be foolish to answer him and give away your location while you looked for a way out of there, the cliff you had mentioned to Jayce was close, if you managed to jump over it you could use one of the huge pipes to get out of there and knowing Finn he was too cowardly to follow you there.

You came out of your hiding place with the objective you plain in your mind. A huge hand grabbed you by the hair and slammed you against the wall, your thoughts scrambled a little from the blow, you were dropped to the ground full of broken glass. You tried to stand up as best you could but the small glass stuck in your skin and small rivers of blood dripped from your fingers.

“Aren’t you saying hello to an old friend?” Finn asked, placing his gun under his jaw, as if he were talking to a pet, forcing you to stand up.

“You're not my friend,” you spat the words in his face, he didn't seem to like it very much.

“You’re right…I was much more than that for you” his hands grabbed your thighs and forced you to hug his hips with your legs . “You still remember” He dropped the gun to the ground and quickly caught your wrists with his hand.

The feeling of having his body close to yours was too unpleasant. He made a gesture with his face and his thugs left, you rolled your eyes, hitting your head against the wall, but this time you felt higher than just the wall. You surreptitiously looked up, some rusty fire escapes were above you like a blessing.

A smile settled on your “perfect” face, you let your legs climb up Finn’s body until his face was between your legs and although your hands were trapped you managed to stretch enough to hold the first bar surreptitiously.

“Honey…you know I don’t do that” Finn replied with that stupid and pitiful tone that imitated flirting.

“But I do.”

Before the idiot realized it, your feet were on his shoulders, staining his expensive shirt with dirt, using him to push yourself up and make you touch the last bar of the emergency staircase, getting him to let go of your hands wasn’t difficult, you just hit them against the rusty metal, with the brief moment of freedom you used a bar to balance yourself and push yourself to a more comfortable position until you climbed up and reached the top. Finn tried to follow you but with a couple of kicks the ladder basically crumbled, creating an ideal distance between the two of you.

“Bye Finn” you didn’t stay to hear the answer, you ran as fast as you could before they found a way to follow you.

You ran in the darkness with blind faith that you wouldn’t fall, a dim light indicated that you were approaching the precipice and the sound of pipes greeted you, without hesitating for a second you jumped. It was easy to land on them, they were giants, while you ran back to Piltover you managed to see Finn and his thugs on the edge of the cliff, he wasn't happy at all but that wasn't your problem.

When you got to Jayce he seemed totally nervous and worried, he had dodged a few guards and was afraid that they would have caught you.

“Did you lose them?” He asked just to confirm.

You just raised your thumb, giving a long sigh “Job done”

Jayce sighed just like a worried mother would and both began to walk, this time calmer, without haste and better yet without pursuers.

“So… this is your house?” You asked when both stopped in front of a nice apartment complex in the academic district.

“Yes… umm, thanks for tonight. Without you I wouldn't have been able to get any of this” Jayce shook his backpack a little “I'll give it back to you tomorrow”

“Don't worry…” you turned to leave but a mischievous smile crossed your face “I promise that next time we go I won't get into trouble”

Jayce let out a genuine laugh “Prove it”

Your response was to laugh with him, while you let yourself be absorbed by the early morning mist until you finally disappeared from sight.

That morning, before going to the academy, Jayce opened the door to his balcony while sipping his morning coffee, only to find a small ribbon of stars and beneath it the page you had torn out of his notebook.

N/A: For the person who sent me a one-shot request… You could be more specific, my brain is a bit slow and I didn't understand the request 😅

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 1 day ago

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Second Chance - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve tried to get you back, but it's not always easy to gain back the trust one loses.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warning: Angsts, like kind of a lot of it, injured character, but nobody dies. A bit of fluff with a happy ending.

Words: 9 224

AN: So, sweet anon asked about part two of Enough is Enough, and well, why the hell no :) I feel like shit (being sick isn't fun), so apologies x4 for any mistakes. My brain isn't braining...

Steve didn’t give up.

Steve’s first apology came in the form of flowers.

They arrived at the coffee shop just as you were opening. A delivery driver handed you the bouquet—a lush arrangement of white roses and baby’s breath, wrapped in soft tissue paper. For a moment, you just stared at them, the scent of fresh blossoms mingling with the familiar aroma of coffee beans. The card nestled within the bouquet bore only three words: I’m so sorry.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t have to wonder who sent them.

“Who’s the secret admirer?” your coworker teased, grinning as she wiped down the counter.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you set the bouquet aside, trying to push down the lump rising in your throat. It was a beautiful gesture—one you might have cherished once—but now it felt hollow.

The flowers kept coming. Every morning, a new arrangement would appear. Daisies, tulips, sunflowers. Each accompanied by a note in Steve’s handwriting: I miss you. I love you. Let me fix this.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him the chance to make things right. But another part of you—the part still raw and aching—refused.

Then he started showing up.

The first time, you nearly dropped the coffee pot in your hand. He stood outside the shop, leaning against the lamppost with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He looked different—tired, almost haunted, as though the weight of your absence was something physical he carried with him.

You ignored him, focusing on your customers, but you could feel his presence like a shadow just beyond the glass. When you finally closed the shop, he was still there.

He said your name softly as you stepped outside, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t stop walking.

“Please,” he called after you, his tone desperate. “Just give me a chance to talk.”

You turned back, your jaw clenched. “Why now, Steve? Why couldn’t you talk to me when it mattered?”

His face crumpled, and for a brief moment, you felt a pang of guilt. But you shook it off and kept walking.

It didn’t deter him. Steve came back the next day, and the day after that, always waiting silently as you worked. It wasn’t until a week later that you finally confronted him.

“What do you want from me, Steve?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

His blue eyes searched yours, filled with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in months. “I want to make this right,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you. I never stopped. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening with conflicting emotions. He looked so sincere, so heartbroken, that for a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

“It’s too late,” you said finally, your voice barely audible. “You can’t fix this. I don’t trust you anymore.”

The pain in his eyes was like a physical blow, but you didn’t let it show. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, defeated.

But the truth was, you weren’t as strong as you seemed. Every step away from him felt like ripping a piece of yourself apart. By the time you got home, you were shaking, tears streaming down your face as you collapsed onto the couch.

You loved him. God, you still loved him. But love wasn’t enough anymore.

***

The days blurred together after that.

You went through the motions of your life—opening the coffee shop each morning, smiling at customers, making small talk with your coworkers—but it all felt mechanical, like a script you had memorized long ago. The warmth and joy that once fueled you were gone, replaced by an empty numbness you couldn’t seem to shake.

Nights were the worst.

Sleep eluded you, no matter how many hours you spent staring at the ceiling or tossing and turning under your blankets. The bed felt too big, too cold without him there. You hated yourself for missing him, for craving the comfort of his arms even after everything he’d done. But the longing wasn’t something you could control.

It wasn’t just the nights, though. Little things kept sneaking up on you, tearing at the fragile stitches holding you together.

The sight of his favorite mug on your kitchen counter. The book he’d borrowed but never finished, still sitting on your nightstand. The faint scent of his cologne that lingered on your favorite sweater, no matter how many times you washed it.

You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked. Books, once your solace, couldn’t hold your attention. The words blurred together, and you’d find yourself reading the same sentence over and over without absorbing a single word.

Your friends noticed.

“You need to eat more,” one of them said during a group dinner you’d been forced to attend. She pushed a plate of pasta toward you, her brow furrowed with concern. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, picking at the food with a fork.

Kat wasn’t buying it. She leaned across the table, her sharp blue eyes cutting through your defenses. “You’re not fine. And we’re not going to pretend otherwise.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you had to blink back the sting of tears.

Steve’s friends noticed too. Sam popped into the coffee shop one morning, leaning casually against the counter as you took his order.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone laced with concern.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice light. “Busy days, you know how it is.”

He didn’t press you further, but the look he gave you lingered long after he left.

***

The worst was when Steve came back.

It was late in the evening, just before closing, when he walked into the shop. You froze behind the counter, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight of him.

He looked just as broken as you felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He lingered near the entrance, as if unsure whether he was welcome.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice hesitant.

You gripped the edge of the counter, steadying yourself. “We’re about to close.”

“I know,” he said, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. “I just… I wanted to see you.”

You turned away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning up. “You shouldn’t be here, Steve.”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening painfully. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And because I can’t stand knowing I hurt you like this.”

His words cracked something inside you, but you couldn’t let him see it. “You need to leave,” you said firmly, refusing to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he hesitated, as if hoping you might change your mind. But when you didn’t, he nodded, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

You watched him go, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the empty shop. And then you broke.

You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your grief crushed you.

You loved him. God, you still loved him.

But you didn’t know how to let yourself forgive him.

***

You didn’t expect to find Bucky Barnes on your doorstep.

It was a gray Saturday morning, and the porch floor creaked under your weight as you aimlessly swept away fallen leaves. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and his blue-gray eyes watching you carefully, you froze.

“Bucky?”

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual, though his expression betrayed a flicker of hesitation. “Mind if I come in?”

You hesitated. This was Steve’s best friend. Seeing him felt like reopening wounds that you’d been trying desperately to let heal. But there was no judgment in his gaze, no pressure—just concern. So, with a heavy sigh, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

He stepped into the living room, glancing around like he was cataloging the space. You folded your arms, standing stiffly near the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, doll,” he teased, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice sharper now. “Why are you here?”

He sighed, the smirk fading. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly. “I’m not with Steve anymore. There’s no obligation.”

He raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he leaned against the back of your couch. “Obligation? That’s not why I’m here, sweetheart. You’re my friend too. And whether or not you’re with Steve doesn’t change that.”

The softness in his tone made something crack inside you. You wanted to argue, to brush him off, but instead, you felt your defenses falter.

“Besides,” he continued with a wry grin, “someone’s gotta make sure you know not all men are idiots. Steve might be an amazing guy, but even amazing guys screw up sometimes.”

That last sentence hit you like a slap. You felt the tears coming before you could stop them, your vision blurring as all the emotions you’d been bottling up threatened to spill over. You turned away, trying to pull yourself together, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

That was all it took for the dam to break.

“I don’t know how to stop loving him,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out in a rush.

Bucky froze, his expression softening as he watched the tears stream down your face. You sank onto the couch, your shoulders shaking, and he followed, sitting beside you without a word.

“I hate him for what he did,” you continued, your voice cracking. “I hate that he made me feel like I didn’t matter, like I was just… there. And now? Now he’s trying to fix it, like I’m supposed to just forget everything and let him back in.”

Bucky listened silently, his hands clasped together as you poured your heart out.

“It feels like a slap in the face,” you said, your chest heaving with each breath. “Like he thinks flowers and apologies will erase months of feeling invisible. I hate him for that. But more than anything, I hate that I still love him.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you added, “I don’t want to love him anymore. I want it to stop, Bucky. I want it all to stop.”

The room was quiet for a long moment. Then, Bucky sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Doll,” he said softly, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but loving him isn’t something to hate yourself for. Steve… he’s a complicated guy. He doesn’t always get things right, but I promise you, he loves you. More than you know.”

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “If he loved me so much, why did he treat me like that? Why did he make me feel like I didn’t matter?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “You’re right. He screwed up. Big time. But… he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years. It doesn’t excuse how he hurt you, but I’ve seen him lately, and he’s a wreck without you.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, your tears blurring the intensity in his gaze.

“He’s not good at showing it,” Bucky continued, “but he’s an amazing guy. I’ve known him my whole life, and I’ve seen him at his best and his worst. And I know he’ll never stop trying to make this right. The question is… would you ever let him? What would it take for you to let him back in?”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and unrelenting. You didn’t answer right away, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt as you stared down at the floor.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t know if I can. It’s like… every time I see him, I remember how much it hurt. And even if I wanted to try again, I don’t know if I’d ever trust him not to hurt me like that again.”

Bucky reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said gently. “But whatever you choose, just know this: you deserve to be happy, sweetheart. Whether that’s with Steve or without him.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any trace of pity or judgment, but there was none. Just quiet understanding and unwavering support.

When he finally stood to leave, he gave you a small smile. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his voice steady. “And no matter what happens, I’m here. Steve or no Steve.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind long after the door closed.

And for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you could find a way forward.

***

The compound gym was almost empty, save for the quiet hum of machinery and the dull thud of fists meeting a punching bag. Steve Rogers stood at the far end of the room, his knuckles raw and his breathing ragged. He’d been at it for hours, his frustration and grief pouring into every swing, every strike. The bag swayed violently under the force of his hits, the chain creaking with each impact.

“You keep that up, and you’ll be patching the damn thing again,” Bucky’s voice rang out, casual and dry as ever, though the concern in it was unmistakable.

Steve paused mid-swing, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly as he turned to see his best friend leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Bucky’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a softness Steve wasn’t sure he deserved.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, his voice hoarse from hours of exertion.

“Figured I’d find you here,” Bucky replied, stepping into the gym. “Thought maybe you’d stop using that bag like it owes you money and actually talk to me.”

Steve sighed, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Not in the mood, Buck.”

“Well, tough,” Bucky shot back, grabbing a folding chair and dragging it noisily across the floor. He plopped it down unceremoniously a few feet away from Steve, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Because I just came from seeing her.”

The color drained from Steve’s face. He froze, his fists still clenched at his sides. “You… you saw her?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said evenly, watching his friend’s reaction carefully. “She didn’t slam the door in my face, so I’d say I’m doing better than you.”

Steve flinched, the weight of Bucky’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He turned away, his hands gripping the edges of the punching bag as he tried to steady himself. “How… how is she?”

Bucky hesitated. He’d seen the raw pain in your eyes, the tears you tried to hide, and he knew Steve wasn’t ready for the truth. But lying wouldn’t help either.

“She’s a mess, Steve,” Bucky said softly. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Steve let out a shaky breath, his head hanging low. “I did this to her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I pushed her away, made her feel like she wasn’t enough. And now… now I don’t know how to fix it.”

Bucky stood, closing the distance between them. “Steve, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Steve turned, his eyes red and tired.

“She still loves you,” Bucky said firmly, his voice steady. “But she’s hurt, and she’s angry. And you can’t expect her to just forget all that because you’re showing up with flowers and apologies.”

“I know that,” Steve snapped, his voice breaking. “God, Buck, I know. But what else can I do? Every time I see her, it’s like she’s slipping further away, and I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You start by understanding that this isn’t about fixing things overnight. It’s about showing her that you’re willing to put in the work, no matter how long it takes. That you’re not just sorry—you’re ready to be better.”

Steve nodded, though the despair in his eyes didn’t fade. “She said she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Then earn it back,” Bucky said simply. “Show her that you’re not the same guy who hurt her. And for God’s sake, stop treating this like a battle you can win with brute force. You’re not fighting Hydra here, Steve. You’re fighting for her.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, his head dropping into his hands. “I don’t even know if she wants me to try.”

Bucky crouched slightly, meeting Steve’s gaze head-on. “I asked her,” he said quietly.

Steve’s head shot up, his blue eyes wide. “What? What did she say?”

“She doesn’t know,” Bucky admitted. “She’s scared, Steve. Scared that if she lets you back in, you’ll hurt her again. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

The words hit Steve like a blow, but he didn’t argue. He knew Bucky was right.

“She told me something else too,” Bucky continued, his voice softer now. “She said she doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And it’s killing her.”

Steve’s breath caught, his chest tightening painfully. “She… she said that?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. She loves you, Steve. But love isn’t enough—not after what you put her through. You have to show her that you’re not just saying the right things. You have to be the right man for her. The man she fell in love with.”

Steve closed his eyes, his mind racing with memories of you—the way you used to laugh, the way you’d look at him like he was your whole world. He’d taken that for granted, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back.

“What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

Bucky’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You don’t get to give up, punk. Not on her, and not on yourself. You want her back? Then fight for her. And don’t stop until you’ve shown her that she’s worth everything.”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. “How? How do I even start?”

Bucky gave him a small, knowing smile. “Start by listening. By showing up—not just for her, but for the life she wants. Show her that she’s not a convenience, Steve. She’s the center of it all.”

Steve nodded slowly, the weight of Bucky’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t give up on you. Not now. Not ever.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

Bucky grinned, clapping him on the back. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you.”

Steve nodded, determination flickering in his tired eyes. He didn’t know how long it would take or if he’d even succeed, but for you, he’d move mountains.

Because losing you wasn’t an option. And he’d spend the rest of his life proving it if that’s what it took.

***

Steve left the gym after his conversation with Bucky feeling drained but determined. His best friend’s words weighed on him, both a reminder of the man he wanted to be and the man he hadn’t been for you. He knew Bucky was right—this wasn’t a fight he could win with brute force or a quick apology. It would take time, patience, and a quiet kind of devotion that he’d never had to show before.

He didn’t expect you to forgive him overnight. He didn’t even expect you to notice what he was doing right away. But he had to start somewhere.

***

It was early morning when Steve pushed open the door to your coffee shop.

The familiar bell jingled above him, the sound stirring memories of quieter, happier times. You were behind the counter, moving with practiced ease as you worked the espresso machine. You didn’t see him at first, but when you turned, your eyes locked, and Steve felt the air shift.

“Morning,” he said, his voice soft, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace of the moment.

You blinked, your expression guarded. “Morning.”

“I’m here for coffee,” he said, stepping forward. “For the team.”

Your brow furrowed, skeptical. “The team sent you?”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not exactly. Thought I’d take my turn.”

You didn’t reply, but you turned back to the espresso machine, the hum of it filling the silence. Steve watched you work, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, and for a moment, he was struck by how natural this scene felt, even with the tension between you.

When you handed him the tray of drinks, your fingers brushed his briefly, and he saw the faintest flicker of something in your eyes—surprise, maybe, or something softer.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice warm but careful.

You didn’t answer, but you nodded, and he left without lingering, the bell jingling softly as the door swung shut behind him.

The next time he came, it was quieter. Midmorning, after the breakfast rush had died down, Steve appeared with a small brown paper bag in hand.

You were cleaning the counter, lost in thought, when his voice broke through the silence.

“You forget to eat when you’re busy,” he said simply, placing the bag on the counter.

You looked up, startled. “Steve…”

“It’s just breakfast,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall your protests. “Nothing more. Just thought you might need it.”

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say caught somewhere in your throat. Slowly, you opened the bag, the warm scent of eggs and bacon wafting up to meet you.

“From that diner you like,” he added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Figured it was better than you skipping meals.”

You stared at the bag for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t stay long, didn’t push for conversation. He just gave you a small nod and left, leaving you with breakfast and a strange, lingering warmth in your chest.

Natasha was relentless when it came to her movie nights, and somehow, you found yourself at the Tower despite your protests. The room was cozy, filled with the low murmur of conversation and the scent of popcorn. You settled into one corner of the couch, trying to ignore the way Steve’s presence tugged at the edges of your awareness.

When the opening credits began to roll, Steve appeared beside you, holding something in his hands.

“Here,” he said quietly, offering you a pair of thick woolen socks.

You frowned, confused. “What’s this?”

“Your feet get cold,” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, your chest tightening, before reluctantly taking the socks. “Thanks,” you muttered, slipping them on.

He didn’t linger, didn’t push for more. But later, when the movie reached its tense climax, he handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—rich, creamy, with just the right amount of cinnamon.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small, knowing smile.

“You love hot chocolate after horror movies,” he said, his tone soft. “Figured you might want some.”

You took the mug, the warmth seeping into your hands, and for the first time that night, you let yourself relax.

The envelope was waiting for you in your mailbox, unassuming but carefully placed. Inside was a single ticket to the sold-out Broadway show you’d mentioned to Sam weeks ago.

The note tucked inside was brief, written in Steve’s familiar handwriting: Thought you’d like this. Hope it’s as good as you imagined.

You stared at the ticket for a long time, your heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. He remembered. Of course, he remembered.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just a kind gesture, but deep down, it chipped away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

The night your car broke down was cold and quiet, the kind of night that made the world feel vast and lonely. You sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the lifeless dashboard, your breath fogging up the glass as you fought the urge to cry.

You tried calling a few friends, but no one answered. Finally, with trembling fingers, you dialed the one number you swore you wouldn’t.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice came through the line, steady and concerned.

“My car won’t start,” you said softly, ignoring the pet name, hating how small your voice sounded.

“Where are you?”

You told him, and he didn’t hesitate. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

When his truck pulled up beside you, he climbed out without a word, his breath misting in the cold air as he checked under your hood. His movements were sure and efficient, his presence steadying.

“Alternator’s shot,” he said finally, closing the hood. “I’ll take you home.”

You hesitated, your pride warring with your gratitude, but the freezing air made the decision for you.

The drive was quiet, the heater humming softly as Steve navigated the empty streets. He didn’t pry, didn’t try to fill the silence with unnecessary words. He just… drove.

When you woke up the next morning, your car was back in its usual spot. The engine purred like new when you started it, and a small note was taped to the dashboard: Shouldn’t give you trouble anymore. Call me if it does.

Each gesture was small, unassuming. Steve never pushed, never demanded more than you were willing to give. He just… showed up, quietly and consistently, letting his actions speak louder than words ever could.

And slowly, despite yourself, you began to notice.

***

Three months had passed since the breakup.

You wouldn’t say things had gone back to normal—far from it—but something had undeniably shifted between you and Steve. His quiet persistence, the way he showed up without pushing or demanding anything from you, had started to chip away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

At first, your conversations were stiff and polite, nothing more than a few sentences exchanged when he stopped by the coffee shop or brought you breakfast. But as the weeks went by, those moments grew longer, softer. He’d ask about your day, about the books you were reading, or the things you enjoyed, and you found yourself answering more openly. It wasn’t quite like before, but it was closer to the first moments of your relationship, back when everything had been new and uncomplicated.

Still, there was a voice in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you forget. A quiet, insistent whisper that reminded you of how he’d hurt you, how he’d pushed you aside and made you feel invisible.

That voice grew louder the day he asked you to talk.

***

It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the windows of the coffee shop as you wiped down the counter. The shop was quiet, the usual morning and lunch rushes long gone, leaving you with only the hum of the espresso machine and the soft clatter of dishes.

The sound of the bell above the door caught your attention, and when you looked up, Steve was there.

He’d been coming in more often lately, not just to pick up coffee for the team but to see you, to talk to you. This time, though, something about the way he stood—his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched—told you this wasn’t just a casual visit.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful as he approached the counter.

“Hey,” you replied, setting the towel aside.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, glancing around at the empty shop. “I mean… can we talk?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. The vulnerability in his expression was disarming, but that voice in the back of your mind warned you to tread carefully. Still, you nodded, gesturing toward one of the empty tables.

Steve followed you, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. For a moment, he said nothing, his hands clasped tightly on the table as he stared down at them. You waited, your heart thudding quietly in your chest as the silence stretched between you.

Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About what I should say. How I should say it. And the truth is… there’s no easy way to do this. So I’m just going to be honest.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you braced yourself for whatever was coming.

“I screwed up,” he said, the words heavy with regret. “I let you down in a way I never should have. And I’ve been trying to figure out why—why I acted the way I did, why I pushed you away when you were the best thing in my life.”

His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to find the right words. “I think… I think I was scared. Scared of not being enough for you, scared of dragging you into everything that comes with being me. The missions, the stress, the weight of it all—I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. “So you decided to ignore me instead? To shut me out?”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice breaking slightly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. It was selfish and stupid, and I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I just… I thought if I kept it to myself, if I didn’t tell you about everything that was going on, I could protect you from it. But all I did was hurt you.”

His eyes glistened, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. For making you feel like you weren’t enough when you were everything to me.”

The raw emotion in his voice made your chest ache, but the wounds he’d left were still fresh, still tender.

“Steve…” you began, your voice trembling, “you hurt me more than anyone ever has. Do you know that?”

He flinched, his jaw tightening, but he nodded.

“I spent weeks wondering what I did wrong,” you continued, your words spilling out in a rush. “I kept asking myself why I wasn’t good enough for you, why I wasn’t worth your time or your attention. And then, when you finally started trying again, it felt like a slap in the face. Like you thought a few kind gestures could erase everything you put me through.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “I wanted so badly to be enough for you, Steve. That’s all I ever wanted. Just to be enough.”

“You were,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “You are. God, you’re more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t. I didn’t know how to handle it—how to be the man you deserved—and I let that fear control me. But I swear to you, I see it now. I see what I lost because of it.”

He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I might have ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. But if there’s anything—anything—I can do to change your mind, tell me. I’ll do it. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can be better, that I can be the man you need me to be.”

His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “I just need to know if there’s any part of you that still believes in us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding as the weight of his words settled over you. The pain, the anger, the love—all of it swirled together in a storm of emotion that left you speechless.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice trembling as you said, “I don’t know, Steve. I don’t know if I can trust you again. I don’t know if I can forget how much it hurt.”

His face crumpled, but he nodded, accepting your words without argument.

“But…” you continued, your voice softer now, “I can’t pretend I don’t still feel something for you. I can’t pretend I don’t still love you.”

His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths.

“That doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were,” you said quickly, your tone firm. “If we’re going to try… if we’re going to even think about trying, it has to be different. You have to be honest with me, Steve. About everything.”

“I will,” he said immediately, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, I will.”

You nodded, your throat tight with the weight of what you’d just said. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. A small step toward rebuilding what had been broken.

And as Steve reached out, his hand brushing against yours, you let yourself hope—for the first time in months—that maybe, just maybe, it was a step worth taking.

***

It had been a week since the conversation with Steve, and your emotions were in turmoil. You felt caught between the raw pain of the past and the cautious hope of what could be. His words haunted you—his apologies, his promises, the way his voice had cracked when he told you how much he still cared.

You needed clarity, and there was only one person who could give you the no-nonsense advice you desperately needed: Natasha.

She arrived at your place that evening, a takeout bag in hand, and didn’t waste a second settling herself at your kitchen table. Her sharp green eyes studied you as you sat down across from her, picking at the noodles she’d brought for you.

“All right,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Steve,” you admitted, your voice soft.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “What about him?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. “We talked. Really talked. He told me everything—why he shut me out, how he felt, all of it. He apologized for everything and… I believe him, Nat. I really do.”

“But?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“But I don’t know if I can trust him again,” you confessed, your throat tightening. “I don’t know if I can let myself go through that again. He hurt me so much, Nat. How do I just move past that?”

Natasha studied you for a moment, her gaze piercing. “Let me ask you something,” she said finally. “If you didn’t still love him, if you didn’t still want something with him deep down, would we even be having this conversation right now?”

You frowned, her words hitting you hard. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been three months,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “If you were done with him, if you really didn’t care anymore, you’d have moved on by now. You wouldn’t still be here, agonizing over whether to give him another chance.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. She wasn’t wrong, and deep down, you knew it.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him tomorrow or even next week,” Natasha continued, leaning forward. “But if there’s still a part of you that wants to believe in him, don’t ignore that. You owe it to yourself to figure out what you really want. Not what you’re afraid of, not what you think you should do. What you want.”

Her words lingered long after she left, a quiet truth that refused to be ignored.

***

At the same time, Steve was grappling with his own uncertainty.

He sat in the Tower’s lounge, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as he stared out the window. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation, about the raw pain in your voice when you told him how much he’d hurt you.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Steve turned to see both Sam and Bucky entering the room. They exchanged a look before sitting down on either side of him.

“You’ve been brooding,” Sam said bluntly. “What’s going on?”

Steve sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “It’s her,” he admitted.

“Figured,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “What happened?”

“I talked to her,” Steve said. “Told her everything—how I felt, why I shut her out. I apologized for all of it.”

“And?” Sam prompted.

“She said she doesn’t know if she can trust me again,” Steve said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “But she also said she still loves me. I don’t know what to do with that, Sam. I don’t know how to make it right.”

Sam leaned forward, his expression serious. “Look, man, love isn’t always enough. Not when there’s hurt involved. If she doesn’t trust you right now, that’s on you to fix. You can’t just expect her to forgive and forget because you feel bad about it.”

“I know that,” Steve said quickly, his jaw tightening. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to mess this up again. I need to figure out how to show her that I’m serious without overwhelming her.”

Bucky gave him a long, measured look. “You’ve been trying,” he said finally. “We’ve all seen it—the little things you’ve been doing. But if you’re asking me, you’re not going to fix this by tiptoeing around her. You’ve got to be honest, Rogers. If you want her back, you need to let her see all of you. The good, the bad, and the stuff you think she won’t want to deal with.”

Steve frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “What if she doesn’t want to deal with it?”

“Then she doesn’t,” Bucky said simply. “But if you hold back, you’re not giving her the chance to decide for herself. And that’s not fair to either of you.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “You’ve got to let her see that you’re not just saying the right things, Steve. You’ve got to show her. But don’t make it about fixing things fast. Healing takes time, for both of you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling over him. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Sam said with a grin. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, Cap.”

***

Steve spent the next few days thinking about their advice. He’d been so focused on not pushing you, on giving you space, that he hadn’t realized he might be holding back too much.

When he saw you next, it was at the coffee shop, just as you were closing up for the day. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, his heart pounding.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face. “Hey.”

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “Sure.”

He gestured toward one of the empty tables, and you followed him, sitting down across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Steve began, his voice steady but low. “About how much I hurt you, how I made you feel like you weren’t enough. And you were right. I let you down in ways I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Your throat tightened, but you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix things in small ways, trying to show you that I’m serious,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ve been honest enough with you. I don’t think I’ve let you see how much this has been tearing me apart.”

His hands tightened into fists on the table, his knuckles white. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or push you, but I can’t hold this back anymore. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes. “If there’s anything—anything—I can do to earn your trust again, tell me. Because losing you would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

Your own eyes burned with tears, the raw honesty in his words cutting through the walls you’d built around your heart. For the first time, you saw not just the man who’d hurt you but the man who was willing to fight for you, flaws and all.

You didn’t have an answer for him—not yet. But as you reached across the table and took his hand, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start finding one.

***

You were closing up the coffee shop when your phone buzzed. The message was from Natasha. That alone was unusual—Nat rarely texted without reason. You pulled your phone out, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb.

The words on the screen made your blood run cold: We’ve lost contact with Steve and Bucky.

Your breath caught, and the phone nearly slipped from your trembling hands. For a moment, everything around you blurred—the soft hum of the espresso machine, the faint chatter of pedestrians outside, the smell of coffee beans—all of it faded into the background.

You didn’t think, didn’t even register dropping the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. Your hands shook as you locked the doors, fumbling with the keys before rushing to your car.

The drive to the Tower was a haze, your chest tight with panic as Natasha’s words repeated in your mind. You knew Steve went on dangerous missions. It was part of who he was. But something about those words—lost contact—made this time feel different.

***

By the time you arrived at the Tower, your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might break through your ribcage. The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each floor passing with agonizing slowness. When the doors finally slid open, you practically ran into the common room, where Natasha and Sam were already waiting.

“What happened?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

Natasha turned toward you, her expression calm but her eyes betraying her concern. “They were on a mission. Everything was going according to plan, but then we lost contact about three hours ago. We’ve been trying to re-establish communication, but there’s been no response.”

Three hours. That might as well have been three days.

“What do you mean ‘lost contact’?” you pressed, your voice rising. “How does that even happen?”

“It could be anything,” Sam said, his tone soothing but cautious. “Jammed signals, a misstep in the mission. We don’t know yet.”

You stared at them, your breathing shallow, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario imaginable. “So they could be…”

“They’re not,” Natasha said firmly, cutting you off. Her voice was sharp, but there was a softness in her gaze. “Steve and Bucky have been in worse situations than this. They’ll find a way to get back to us.”

Sam nodded in agreement, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “They’re two of the toughest guys I know,” he said. “If anyone can make it out of this, it’s them.”

You wanted to believe them, but the fear in your chest refused to let go. You sank into one of the chairs, your hands gripping the armrests so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

The minutes dragged by like hours, the silence in the room heavy and oppressive. Natasha and Sam tried to make conversation, to keep you distracted, but you barely registered their words. Your mind was too consumed by the thought of what could happen—of what might have already happened.

***

When Natasha’s phone finally buzzed, the sound cut through the quiet like a gunshot. She snatched it up, her sharp gaze scanning the screen. Relief flickered across her face as she read aloud:

“It’s from Steve. They’re on their way back, but a medic is necessary.”

Your heart seized, a mixture of relief and panic coursing through you. “Who’s hurt?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“He didn’t say,” Natasha replied, her lips pressing into a thin line.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the knot in your chest refused to loosen. You told yourself it didn’t matter who was hurt—they were alive, and they were coming back. But the not knowing gnawed at you, the fear for Steve settling deep in your bones.

No one told Steve you were here, and maybe that was for the best. But as you sat there, waiting for the jet to arrive, you realized just how fragile everything felt. The past few months flashed through your mind—all the moments of doubt, the anger, the hesitation—and for the first time, they seemed so small. In the grand scheme of things, you could have lost Steve today. That thought terrified you more than anything else.

***

The sound of the jet’s engines rumbling low overhead pulled you out of your thoughts. You stood with Natasha and Sam, your heart pounding as the aircraft touched down on the Tower’s private landing pad.

The ramp lowered slowly, and the first thing you saw was Steve, his arm slung around Bucky to help him walk. Bucky looked pale, his arm hanging limp at his side, his face tight with pain. Medics rushed forward to meet him, but your eyes were locked on Steve.

He didn’t look much better than Bucky. His shirt was torn, streaked with dirt and blood, and his face bore a fresh collection of cuts and bruises. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, his steps slow and measured.

But when his eyes found yours, he smiled.

Even battered and bloodied, he’d never looked more handsome. His beard, grown in over the time he’d been away, gave him a rugged edge, and his blue eyes still held that quiet strength you’d always admired.

The moment your gaze met his, something in you broke. You ran to him, barely aware of your surroundings, and threw your arms around him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. His shirt was rough against your skin, damp with sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. “I was so scared. I thought… I thought I might lose you.”

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his grip strong despite his obvious exhaustion. “I’m okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “I’m here.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, tears streaming down your face. “You have to be more careful,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t… you can’t do this to me, Steve.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What happened?” you asked, your voice cracking. “What went wrong?”

To your surprise, Steve didn’t hesitate. He guided you to a quieter corner, his hand resting lightly on your back, and began to explain.

“The mission was supposed to be straightforward,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But things went sideways fast. There were more hostiles than we anticipated, and Bucky got hit—bad. I couldn’t leave him behind, so I…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“You carried him out,” you finished, your throat tightening.

Steve nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “I wasn’t going to leave him, no matter what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just from fear. They were from the overwhelming realization of who Steve truly was—the man who would sacrifice everything for the people he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer now. “I won’t make that mistake again. And if you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you everything—about the missions, about what’s going on with me. No more shutting you out.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mixture of love and fear and hope. Slowly, you nodded. “I’m listening,” you said.

And as he began to speak, you felt the cracks in your heart begin to mend, one word at a time.

***

Steve stayed with you after the medics whisked Bucky away to the infirmary. He’d insisted Bucky was in good hands, though you could see the guilt still lingering in his eyes. You sat together in one of the quieter rooms in the Tower, the tension from the mission still clinging to him like a second skin.

Despite his exhaustion, he refused to let go of your hand.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you sat beside him. “I know it’s late.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He gave you a small, tired smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re too good to me.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “No, Steve. I’m just—” You paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as the adrenaline that had sustained him through the mission began to fade. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For everything,” he replied, meeting your gaze with a vulnerability that left you breathless. “For scaring you, for shutting you out before… for making you feel like you weren’t enough. I know I’ve said it before, but I need you to know I mean it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. For a long moment, you didn’t respond, your chest tight as you tried to process the enormity of what he was saying.

“I was so scared today,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “When Nat texted me, when we didn’t know if you were okay… it was like the ground had been ripped out from under me.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I realized then how stupid these past few months have been. I was so caught up in my own hurt, my own doubts, that I didn’t see what we were losing.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You weren’t wrong to feel that way,” he said softly. “You had every right to be hurt, to doubt me. I earned that. But I don’t want to lose you, baby. Not now. Not ever.”

His words broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that again,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady and resolute.

***

The days following the mission passed in a haze of quiet moments and tentative steps forward. Steve stayed at the Tower to help Bucky recover, but he checked in with you constantly. Sometimes it was a quick text—How are you? Did you eat today?—and sometimes it was a phone call that lasted longer than either of you expected.

You visited the Tower often, bringing Bucky some of his favorite snacks and sitting with him while Steve caught up on reports. Bucky teased you relentlessly, of course, his dry humor cutting through the tension in ways only he could manage.

“So,” he said one afternoon, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “When are you two going to stop tiptoeing around and just admit you’re back together?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “We’re not—”

“Sure,” Bucky interrupted, smirking. “And I’m the King of Wakanda.”

Steve, who had just entered the room, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glaring at Bucky.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Bucky said with a shrug, earning himself an eye-roll from both you and Steve.

Despite his teasing, Bucky’s words stayed with you. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The way you and Steve interacted had changed since the mission. There was a closeness now, a sense of trust that hadn’t been there before.

***

One evening, Steve invited you to dinner at the Tower. He didn’t call it a date, and you didn’t press him on it, but there was something deliberate about the way he’d set the table, the candles he’d lit, the care he’d taken with every detail.

The two of you sat across from each other, the soft glow of the candles casting warm light over his face. For a while, you just talked—about work, about Bucky’s recovery, about the books you’d been reading. The conversation flowed easily, the tension that had once lingered between you finally gone.

At one point, Steve leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he began, his voice steady but quiet. “About how scared you were. How I need to be more careful.”

You frowned slightly. “Steve, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know your work is dangerous. I’ve always known that.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But you were right. I can’t keep doing this—not without being honest with you about what’s going on. If I’m asking you to be part of my life, I need to make sure you feel like you’re part of it.”

His words sent a warmth through your chest, a feeling of being truly seen and valued. “I appreciate that,” you said softly.

Steve smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like everything between you was falling into place.

***

As the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. Steve reached across the table, his hand brushing yours.

“I know we can’t go back to how things were before,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But I think we can build something better. Something stronger. If you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no doubt. Just quiet determination and a love that felt as steady and unshakable as the man himself.

“I want that too,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and for the first time in months, you felt the weight in your chest begin to lift.

It wasn’t a perfect ending. There were still things to work through, still scars to heal. But as Steve reached for your hand, his grip warm and sure, you knew you were ready to take the next step—together.

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aniesvision · 3 days ago

Text

𝟐𝟗- 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍

𐂂 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 (4289 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔), 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒓𝒆𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 (𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒅), 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕, 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌, 𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒗, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕��𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 (😠), 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 ☠︎︎ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒏, 𝒓𝒆𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒔.

small words: backstory | normal words: nowadays

🍂

All the kids were reunited in the garden, playing, talking, laughing. The teacher looked at all the little ones, making sure they were safe and using their creativity. At that age, there wasn't much space to learn about love, but you, with your little arms and hands, were happily laid on the ground, legs swinging back and forth as you wrote an almost intelligible letter to one of your classmates.

"i like you more than i like my best doll!"

It was your way of telling him you wanted to get to know him, to play together, share your toys and communicate. You stand on your feet, walking towards him and poking his arm. When he turned around, you extended both hands, giving him your handmade letter. It took him a few seconds to understand what was that, but the way he laughed at the piece of paper immediately made your face shift to a sad expression.

He made fun of you in front of everyone, the teacher made him apologize, but months passed and your classmates still made fun of you because of it.

🍂

You're a rebel, stressed, sad teenager. Your ideal day is staying in, alone, watching Supernatural or some "freak shit" as your parents call it. You don't really have friends and you prefer to sneak out late at night to take long walks and enjoy the moonlight. You don't do drugs, smoke, drink or date. You're a very reserved person and to explain why you don't want anyone around ever: you're scared of talking to people.

You only talked to people whenever you needed to or when it was random talk, not ever expressing your feelings or talking about what you like, what you want, what you do on your weekends.

That same guy who destroyed your heart when you were only a baby, barely a child, was the same one you'd still look at in class. Not even the heartbreak was enough to push your feelings away, and that was embarrassing. You never talked to him, and managed to be very discreet whenever you looked at him, but it was still stupid.

In high school Chris became the funny, cool kid, a lot of girls wanted to be with him and he was (obviously) the hockey team captain. You were just the weird kid, the one people didn't even know existed even though most of you studied together since kindergarten.

You didn't want to make yourself seen, so you didn't go to parties, didn't go out, didn't do extracurricular activities, didn't go to games or other high school things. You were almost like a ghost.

Eventually you made one single friend, it was inevitable, she insisted and you eventually made an exception. She was nice, and talked too much, which gave you the opportunity to stay silent. You went to your first party ever after she begged you so much to go with her that you felt bad, and little did you know that day was going to be your revenge day.

You and your newest friend were leaning against a counter in the kitchen, she was talking nonstop and you were observing your surroundings. Your eyes quickly met his, and for the first time since kindergarten you felt like he saw you too. Your heart was about to leave your body through your throat when he walked in your direction, trapping you in between him and the counter with that same smug smirk on his lips.

He didn't remember you. And he tried to flirt with you. You wanted to say yes and make out with him right there, but it would shove all your years of suffering in the trash. The realization of what you did only came by when you turned him down and made people around laugh at him for being rejected for the first time ever.

School was finally over, you kept in touch with the friend you made and years passed without you having any knowledge of what happened to Chris.

And then, you saw him, the same blue eyes through your computer screen. He looked better, happier, all grown up. And when you saw he was loved and cared for by the internet now it didn't shock you.

Your one friend once again dragged you on a girl's trip with her. She wanted to finally embrace her new age of 21 and go crazy in Las Vegas, and how could you say no to her? You decide to explore alone when she goes to a casino, both of you expect them to let you in even though you were months away at 21, but of course they didn't, so that leads to you buying some tickets to a random event called Power Slap.

And life knows how to surprise you. Your seat was next to no one other than him. Your eyes meet his, your heartbeats race and he smiles at you. He. Smiles. At. You. What are the odds?

-Guess you're following me now, huh? -He asks, with a cocky sarcastic tone.

Although you were blushing, you still managed to roll your eyes and scoff.

-You wish.

-So you're into violence, I see. -He nods to the ring, legs slightly spread.

-I don't mind violence when it's for fun. -You reply, involuntarily allowing him to use his imagination.

-Hope you had fun violently turning me down in high school. -He shrugs.

He remembers this. Of course.

-I did. Did you have fun breaking my heart in kindergarten?

You look at him with one eyebrow raised, sitting in your designated chair and crossing your arms and legs.

He seems to think for a few seconds, confused when a light finally appears above his head.

-You're the letter girl! -His mouth opened in shock, but there was still an amused expression on his face.

-Unfortunately. -You basically whisper, turning your head in the direction of the arena, the blue colors of the stadium illuminating your face with the minimum effort you made in putting on some natural makeup.

Chris's eyes scan all your details, in silence, the smirk slowly growing back. He shifts in his seat, adjusting his hat.

-I still have it, you know? -He says, now looking at the arena too.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, not believing his words at all, and he notices it without having to look at you.

-It's back in my place, in L.A.

It was obvious you weren't believing him yet, so you decided to ask questions, if he was lying you'd find out.

-You're in L.A now, then?

He hums in response, nodding to his side.

-I live with my brothers, well, not with Justin, but Nick and Matt. We were invited to watch the event.

"Oh, right, he's a youtuber now." you remember.

-How fancy. -You tease, turning your attention back to the ring.

-Why are you here? -He asks, seemingly curious.

-It's my friend's birthday, but I can't go with her to the casino so I decided to watch whatever this is to pass the time.

He chuckles next to you, eyes not leaving your figure like he was examining a piece of art.

-Why did you keep it? -You finally asked what you wanted to know.

-I liked it. -He shrugs, with a small smile.

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes, and as much as you wanted to punch him in the face, you couldn't exactly bring yourself to do it.

-Yeah, so much that you made everyone make fun of me for years. -You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

-You had your revenge, didn't you? -He smirks, clearly amused.

You don't even respond, anger consuming your body. Suddenly the Power Slap event seemed interesting. You tried to pay attention to the hoster, the loud screams, and the show of lights. The amount of things going on made you nervous, but you didn't want to feel bad again because of one simple conversation.

The first competitors get in the ring, waiting for the sign to start before slapping each other's faces. It caught your attention, at first you thought "why would someone do this?" and then you were cheering with the crowd and wanting to see more.

-Where are you staying? -Chris leans to ask, when the first victory was announced.

-Why? Want to spend the night with me? -You tease, unamused, looking at him and arching an eyebrow.

-Maybe. -He smirks again, licking his lips and scanning your face.

-I'm not available. -You reply, giving a look at his brothers who were nosily watching the conversation.

-Yeah? You're dating or something? -He insists.

"Why does he have to be so annoying? If I knew this in kindergarten I'd never write that stupid letter" you think.

-No, just not interested.

He chuckles, of course his brothers were talking about it in their seats as well. The lovely Chris Sturniolo being turned down once again, by the same girl.

-C'mon, I want to make up for being an asshole in kindergarten.

He leans even closer, ignoring his brother's teasing and placing his arm behind your chair, turning his entire body to look at you. You study his expressions, thinking about his words. Even though you're sharing a place with your friend, you still have your own room. But, it's Chris, out of all people. You should hate him, although you're kind of even.

-You can ask me to leave anytime. -He assures.

"I can't get out of this situation without hating myself with any decision I make, so I might as well make the worst one."

-Fine. -You sigh, picking up your phone and checking the time.

-Give me your number. -He gives you his phone. -In case we get lost.

You roll your eyes again, typing your number on his phone and handing him back.

𖧷 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𖧷

We didn't talk too much, just a few comments from him whenever something happened in the event, but I was patient enough not to drag him to the ring and slap him myself.

When the event was finally over I texted my friend to know if she was still at the casino, but got no answer. I stood up to leave and next to me, Chris was saying his goodbyes to his brothers, actually following me without saying anything until we were back on the street.

-I can pay for the uber. -He says, handing me his phone with the app already open.

I don't even try to say otherwise, typing the hotel name. I hand him his phone back and cross my arms, feeling the cool wind hitting my skin.

-So, what have you been doing? -He asks, placing his free hand in his pocket.

-College, and working on a library. Didn't get so lucky as you did. -I look at him, a small smirk growing on his lips.

-You've seen my videos? -He raises an eyebrow at me, like knowing I've seen him was somehow funny to him.

-Not exactly, I've seen some cuts.

He nods, eyeing me up and down, but turning his head to the other side. We stay silent and soon the uber arrives. He opens the door for me and sits next to me, glancing at me every now and then. I didn't want to talk to him more than I needed to and he seemed to notice it, not pushing my patience.

We get into the hotel and I search for my room keys in my purse, opening the door and turning on the lights. I pick up my phone to read the text my friend sent me back letting me know she was still in the casino and she'd be out for a bit longer. I sigh, walking to my room and hearing Chris's footsteps behind me. I throw my purse on the desk, turning around to look at him, his eyes scanning the room and closing the door.

I sit down, starting to undo my shoes.

-You know, you were the first girl to reject me in my life. Definitely not the last, though. -He steps forward, taking a seat next to me.

I laugh, pushing my shoes to the side. He still dares to just speak whatever comes to his mind.

-Someone had to. -I shrug, taking off my jewelry now.

He stares at me with attention, moving his arms back to prop him up.

-I thought you liked me more than your best doll. -He teases, making me stop what I was doing and basically freeze.

My cheeks blush as I recognize his words. He truly remembers. He still remembers my letter.

-That was a long time ago. -I whisper, still shocked that he said those words to me.

It doesn't make sense, why would he remember it? Why do I care so much? Did it stick to his head without him meaning to or did he read it again after that?

-But you wanted to kiss me back, I know that. Why didn't you?

I hate him. I hate this. Why did I let him in? Why did I let him come back to the hotel with me?

I stand, walking to my suitcase, looking for comfortable clothes to sleep in. He follows me with his eyes, taking his own shoes off. I grab a large t-shirt and pajama shorts, giving him a quick look.

-Maybe I didn't. -I reply, getting in the bathroom connected to the room.

I change quickly, also taking off my makeup before leaving. I was nervous, I shouldn't be, but it was hard to be okay in this situation. The worst of all is to know that even years after I still feel so nervous around him. I had my revenge, my crush went away, but he was right there and this makes me confused.

He was using his phone but his eyes met mine as soon as I opened the door. The same gaze I felt all night, scanning my body like he had never seen a woman before. I sit down with my back resting against the headboard, avoiding looking too much at him.

-I didn't just come here because I think you're pretty, I actually want to know you. -He turns to face me, scooping slightly closer. -If you let me, of course, I can always just go away, I don't want to make you uncomfortable.

I ignore my heartbeats, meeting his blue eyes and allowing myself to let my guard down, at least a little bit.

-You're not making me uncomfortable, I'm just not used to this.

Chris smiles, hesitatingly reaching his hand to touch mine, waiting for any sign of discomfort, but I let him grab it and he immediately interlaces our fingers. His hand feels so soft and warm, it's almost familiar, although we never held hands before. I don't really know what is it that I'm feeling, but it's scary.

-Well, we can just talk, I don't mind. -His thumb caresses mine. -And I think I owe you an apology, I didn't mean to make our colleagues make fun of you, I was just a dumb kid.

I giggle, crossing my legs to get more comfortable.

-I guess I get it. Why did you keep it? The letter.

-I meant it when I said I liked it. -He shrugs, with a smile. -The first letter I ever got from someone, first love letter, first rejection, all from the same girl. Not a common thing, y'know?

He laughs, making me laugh as well. I didn't mean to get comfortable with him, but for some reason, he reminded me of the little version of him. Seeing him again after so many years makes it hard to deny that yes I liked him for too long, from kindergarten until long after school ended. Even when I rejected him, it was my revenge, but also my biggest regret.

-Well, you were the first person I wrote a letter to, a love letter, and the first guy I rejected, so... -I shrug.

-First guy you rejected? -He asks, with disbelief.

-Guys didn't exactly try anything with me, Chris.

-That's crazy, you were always mad hot. -He shakes his head, making me laugh at how naturally he said it.

-You're an idiot. I don't know how you didn't get rejected before me, but you must've liked it if you're back for more. -I tease a hint of amusement in my voice.

-You didn't reject me tonight. -He smirks, leaning closer with his same old confidence.

-I still can reject you. -I smile, trying my best to act nonchalant.

But I was so close to passing out. Time did him so good, he's being nice, my feelings are all over the place, he has always been my one and only crush and it's weird that I've never felt interested enough in anyone else. Seeing him was a coincidence, but made me hope that it was destiny instead.

Hating him seemed easier, but I just couldn't hate him now, not when he was... well, being him.

-But you won't. -His voice is lower, but firm.

I stayed silent, too nervous to speak, his eyes scanning my face to make sure I was okay with every move he made. His free hand scoops closer to me, stopping next to my hips on the bed, his other hand holding mine and his body leaving towards mine, making our faces get so close that I could see his freckles.

-At least I hope not. -He completes, his eyes dropping to my lips.

What do I do now? Why does he look even better up close? Why is my heart racing so bad? It's not possible that my feelings came back so easily, is it? Why can't I move? He's getting closer, his lips look so kissable.

His hand leaves mine, reaching my cheek and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. He scoops even closer to me so now his legs are touching mine and without waiting too long he finally presses his lips against mine.

And I don't push him away.

The kiss is slow and delicate at first, almost shy. But soon we let our feelings get involved and it's different, it makes me feel butterflies, and it makes his free hand squeeze my hips, pulling me even closer to him.

We pull away to breathe and he caresses my cheek, smiling at me.

-I waited so long to do this. -He chuckles, making my heart melt.

All my efforts to push him away and to stop liking him were useless. My heart wanted him again.

-So do it again. -I whisper, letting myself wrap my arms around his neck.

He immediately kisses me again, his hands exploring my body with no shame, fingertips running up and down my uncovered thighs. He asks permission to slide his tongue in and I let him, his arms effortlessly pulling me to his lap, my legs on each side of him.

-I don't mean to rush things, but I want you so fucking bad. -He mumbles against my lips, lowering his kisses to my neck.

I tilt my head to the side, giving him more access and letting myself enjoy this, I waited longer than he did to feel him close to me.

-I'm all yours. -I whisper in his ear.

His groan was audible and he turned us around so now I was laying on the bed on my back and he was hovering over me. He gave me no time to even process what was happening before kissing me again, this one full of desire and need, his hips grinding against mine and one of his hands lifting my leg to wrap it around his waist.

I slide my hands under his shirt, feeling his skin and leaving light scratches on it. Our lips only separate for him to take both our shirts off, making the moment even more intimate.

His lips lower to my neck, collarbone, and the valley of my boobs, biting my skin to leave purple and red marks all over it. I could barely wait to feel more of him, my own hands unclasping my bra and throwing it on the floor as he kept the assault on it. Chris's eyes scan my bare breasts like it was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

-You're perfect. -He whispers, swirling his tongue around my nipples.

I moan softly, reaching for his hair and pulling him even closer to me. It's hard to believe that this is happening. His hands feel perfect on my skin, his hair is soft, and his kisses are addictive.

After giving the same amount of attention to both my nipples and leaving more purple marks, he lowers himself in between my legs, looking for permission before sliding down my shorts and panties at the same time, throwing them aside. His breathing hitches as he looked at me, licking his lips and squeezing my thighs with his hands.

-So perfect. Even prettier than I thought you'd be. -He whispers, kissing the insides of my tights.

I didn't even have to ask him to do anything, his tongue quickly licking a stripe from bottom to top, sucking my clit gently. I grip his hair tightly, arching my back and moaning at the feeling, encouraging him to keep going.

Chris eats me out like he is starving, adding a finger to increase the pleasure. As my moans grew louder, his pace got faster, his mouth working on me perfectly.

-Fuck, Chris. -I whine, my legs starting to shake.

A smirk shows up in his face, his eyes meeting mine.

-My name sounds so good coming from your lips.

He pulls his lips away, adding another finger and thrusting them into me even faster. My walls were clenching around them, his fingertips curving to hit that perfect spot, the sounds coming from me turning both of us on even more.

My orgasm hits me like a train, his lips meeting mine to muffle my loud moans. Groaning against my lips, he takes his fingers off me, using his hand to unbutton his pants.

-Fuck, need to be inside you right now.

He kneels in between my legs, pushing his pants and boxers down. My eyes widen a bit when I take a look at him, he was bigger than I imagined he'd be. I bite my lips, admiring his body as he hovers me again with a smirk on his lips.

-You good? -He asks, with a hint of amusement.

I simply nod in response, wining when I feel him sliding his tip up and down my folds. There was no room to talk before he aligned with my entrance and pushed all of him in at once.

-Oh, fuck. -I crave my nails on his biceps, eyes rolling back.

-Shit, you feel so good. -He sighs, waiting for me to adjust to his size.

He starts thrusting at a slow pace, using one of his arms to keep him up and the other to keep my head still, wanting to make things truly intimate with eye contact. All of me was so sure at that moment that he was all I'd ever wanted and all I'll ever want.

-You're so pretty. -He whispers, cupping my cheek gently.

-You're perfect. -I answer, without thinking too much, pulling him into another kiss.

His thrusts became deeper and faster, his muffled sounds turning me on so much that it didn't take long for me to feel another orgasm building up. When he pulls away from the kiss, he buries his head on my neck, biting and kissing it as he fucked me like no one else.

-Chris, so close, don't stop. -I cry out in pleasure, wrapping my legs over his waist.

It only makes him go deeper, groaning in my ear and moving his hand from my cheek to my throat, choking me lightly.

-Give it to me, cum all over my dick. -His voice is low and hoarse, getting me even closer.

A few more thrusts and I was making a mess for him. My moans were loud, my body was squirming and my legs shaking, my walls clenching him so hard that it led him to his own climax, painting my insides in white.

We take a moment to capture our breaths, panting heavily with him still on top of me. He pulls away, collapsing next to me.

-Are you still in Boston? -He asks, turning his head to look at me.

I look at him. His hair was damp and messed up, his cheeks pink, his face and body sweaty, and he still looked perfect to me.

-Yeah, still in Boston. -I agree, smiling at him.

-Good, I really want to keep seeing you. -He smiles back.

-I thought you were in L.A. -I say, confused.

-We go back to Boston a lot, and kind of live in both places. I can see you anytime I'm back there, if you want to, of course.

-I'd love to.

He pecks my lips, helping me clean up and put my clothes back on. We take a moment to eat and talk normally before going back to my bed, where he spent the night with me.

Fortunately he kept his word. We texted every day and when he traveled back to Boston he asked me to hang out.

Unfortunately for my friend she heard a lot that night in Vegas that she shouldn't have when she came back to the hotel. But at least she's still my friend and she's happy that I'm finally with the only guy I ever loved.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitch @larallott

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bleedingichorhearts · 13 hours ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Lemme just… get some ‘practice’ in… if you don’t mind. From this post here. (This may classify as a Soft!Lion or just my version of him.🤷‍♀️)

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: A sleepy Lion, tired by endless battles but struck with desire can be a rather… pleasing experience.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @mothiir, @lemon-russ & the delightful Anon because you have given me the idea.

TW // SMUT, Soft-ish/Vanilla, Size Difference, Scent Kink.

Your form was sleeping in your lovers quarters: Lion El’ Johnson’s, The Firsts’. Your limbs tangled around in the deep green of his royal sheets. The scent left of him in the sheets driving your dreams to become of him. Your wish to kiss him on the lips whenever you pleased and desired playing out in the limitless landscape. A rather innocent wish to dream of in such a galaxy full of infinite dangers. Especially with a cold… Primarch.

You shuffle a bit when you hear the door opening to his quarters. Thinking, it was just a serf or some son of his wanting to know your whereabouts at all times considering they don’t trust you quite yet… Also, with the fact that you didn’t want to get up to just check up on who it was entering your— their Primarchs chambers. It would have been a waste to get woke up then irritated about…

However, your half sleeping mind can pickup the sounds of movement a lot more than usual. Most just like to enter in then out like it was a raid to be done. Never staying any longer than what they have been permitted.

This one… this one stayed longer.

You can feel the bed dip off to the side of you as if someone was climbing in with you. Your body sliding right to them by their weight, a small grunt leaving you while your body collides lightly with the person. A sense of a… pause, a hesitation in the air when you do.

Ever slowly, the person moves their arms around you, their skin sliding against your nightly clothes. Their hand placement being on-top of your chest, covering it with their mass. Their breath on the back of your neck as they snuggle you closer, inhaling your scent with an almost inaudible sigh.

Now, your sleepy mind can make up your lover by the stronger scent of him. The way his arms wrap around you, and how the lips of his mouth and beard brush into the skin of your neck, kissing it lightly. How his body presses up against you, folding you perfectly against him like a puzzle piece.

“Lion?” You mumble his name, testing it out. Your head lifting and tilting slightly to acknowledge the Primarch behind you. His head lifting slightly away from your neck to stare down at your sleepy state.

“Yes, wife?” His voice comes out strong but at the same time surprisingly soft. He wasn’t trying to be loud in this… intimacy that he was allowing and leading… He had no reason to be after all…

“Kiss?” You ask tiredly, your eyes still closed as you make such a simple request. Your mind wanting your dreaming wish to become true. Even if it was in the confines of his quarters and not whenever you desired… you wanted a kiss. A kiss from your lover that has been away from you too long. You had to rely on his fading scent in his sheets to keep you sane that he was still—

You’re a bit surprised when you feel his lips on yours. His beard tickling at your skin as he kisses you slowly, savoring your taste. His hand covering your chest coming up to drag against your neck then hold you in place by your jawline. Not letting you move from his kiss (turning into a passionate make-out session) as he moves his legs between yours.

“Lion.” You breathe his name again once you had a chance. His forehead resting on yours at an angle while you opened your tired eyes find your lover in all of his glory. His chest stripped of clothing and all for you to admire. His piercing eyes never failing to swallow you whole. To make you fall at his will and become a fallen angel. It was almost dangerous, and perhaps it was completely.

“Stay still.” He commands you lowly, moving his head to nuzzle into the side of your collarbone. Kissing your fragile skin compared to his. His frame rising while he deeply inhales your scent as his hand on your jawline moves back down your body. Trailing over your chest, your sides, hips and then thighs where he adjusts you slightly so he can lift your leg up at a comfortable angle. “Let me cherish what I crave.”

Oh, how were you to reject him? How are you to reject your— their Primarch of what he craves? Of what you crave? Your dreams can only satisfy so much compared to the real thing…

You hum as you feel a sudden heat press up against you: His cock pressing up against you; your clothing. Your body and head leaning back into him, sighing out as he uses that to his advantage. Never stopping his gentle attack on your collarbone and neck.

“Your naivety will kill you.” He states, humming into your neck. Always, somehow ruining the mood but at the same time getting you excited as he grips at your thigh he was holding, slowly ripping your clothing. “You are lucky you are my wife.”

“If I wasn’t?” You ask him, your chest swirling with many different, pressuring emotions. You’re not sure if you can stand his answer. The sound of your clothing ripping off with ease as the cold makes you shiver for a moment before the warmth was replaced by his cock.

“Then, I’ll have to make sure that you are.” He growls into your neck, saying the right words as it’s makes your stomach flutter. However, your words isn’t something he likes to hear from you, your denial. “You doubt me?”

“No, no…” You sigh, closing your eyes again, relishing in his attention. Something that you don’t get often from the Primarch… “I could never doubt you.”

The First hums at your answer, not exactly moved by it. His lips continually attacking your neck while he makes a move to push through your heat. His tip slowing going in inch by inch. His lips tasting your pulse for any discomfort that he might make more than usual when he takes you.

His hand lifting your thigh moves up to your abdomen once he is a good length in. Feeling just how much he affects you, just how much he can fill you up more than what a normal human could, ruining you only for him while he thumbs at your abdomen. Waiting for you to get accustomed to his inhuman size.

“Please, move.” You beg your lover, never demanding of him. Your breathing a bit irregular as you take his length and girth. Your hands tangling with the sheets while Lion nuzzles against your neck, forcing you to lean it back to kiss and nip at you as he pleases.

He moves at a leisured pace, never more than that, and sometimes you think it’s painful when he goes slow. His resistance to things showing even in the most intimate moments. Other times, you think it’s sweet when you’re having a particularly rough day with his legion that doesn’t even like you—

The Primarch gives you a particularly harder nip on your sensitive skin, sensing that you’re… distracted while he fucks you. His eyes always carefully watching you as he wants your attention on him in the moment. He is giving you his time to relish you.

“U-unnecessary.” Your voice stammers, a groan leaving you right after while your walls constrict around him. Body shifting slightly so his cock hits that special place inside you again.

“Necessary.” He grumbles back, his voice rumbling through his body. His cock thrusting a bit deeper into you once or twice to show his dedication; his seriousness. Never slowing or fasting his set pace. A slight groan leaving him when he feels just how deep he can go inside of you from your abdomen.

Your body withers as an unexpected climax hits you. Your eyes tightly closing as you stiffen up. Your walls tightening around his length, trying to keep him to you before your body melts into his. His cock still slowly thrusting in, and out of you. Dragging out your afterglow while he stops his nipping and kissing to focus on how well you try and take him. Inhaling the slight; more relaxed change in your scent.

It isn’t long before he allows himself to experience a high with you. His arms wrapping around you, pulling you a bit closer to him, hugging you; keeping you pinned to him. His cock grinding into you deeper, but still slow. His face nuzzling into your neck as he makes no sound of his warm cum staining your walls with his mark. His body stiffing slightly before he relaxes himself. The two of you basking in each others blissed presence.

A moment passes as the only sound in his chambers where the soft breathing of him and the irregular breathing of yours. Not a movement to be seen unless Lion moves from you, and he does after a second more. Moving his cock out of your warmth, and his form standing up from the bed to clean himself up then you before rejoining you. The bed dipping again at his weight as his arms wrap around you once more while his head slots right back into your neck, content with your scent; never leaving.

At least, your dreams no longer will be just dreams for a moment more.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #primarch #primarch x reader #lion el'jonson #dark angels #third person pov #second person pov #tw: smut #grumpy lion needs his love too #lemme lay this old man #finished this at 3:20 A.M😭

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asunsetgrace16 · 3 days ago

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✧ 𝗪𝗛𝗬? ⎥ 911

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Tommy Kinard

Warnings: This does have spoilers for 8x08.

Summary: Eddie is leaving, and Buck goes to Tommy about it.

Notes: This is my first piece of writing for the 9-1-1 fandom. I am a bucktommy shipper so if you have a problem with that then don't read this.

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 1.2k

In the locker room after shift, Buck is quiet and the silence is tense. He knows that today Eddie is telling the team that he is moving, having finally bought a house in El Paso. Eddie told him two weeks ago when he handed in his resignation.

"Guys, I have uh, something I want to tell you all." Eddie says, breaking the silence. Buck is already dressed so he can leave as soon as this is over. He can’t bear to hear it again that he is losing his best friend. Everyone exchanges a look. They can tell that this maybe isn't happy news.

Hen asks, "Yeah Eddie, what's up."

"I bought a house a couple weeks ago." He tells them.

"Oh nice, is it close to us? Did you make sure to pick a good neighbourhood and school." Chim questions.

"Uh yeah I did, but it's not here. It's in El Paso."

And the silence is back. Bobby knew this was coming, so he's leaning against the lockers, calm and cool. Chim and Hen are dumbfounded, mouths gaping like fish, while Buck stands silent, staring at the backpack in his hands.

"Why are you moving back to Texas?" Hen asks tearfully.

"I'm tired of missing out on Chris's life. Now that he's there and Shannon is gone, there's nothing left for me in LA anymore. I want to be a dad to my kid again, and it doesn't look like I will be able to do that here."

Buck sucks in a breath. He wasn't expecting to hear that from Eddie. Obviously Buck knew how much Eddie misses Chris, but how can he say that LA has nothing left for him? Despite not wanting to make it about him, Buck thinks about how he has been Eddie's partner and best friend for eight years, LA can't mean nothing to him, right? What about Buck?

Buck can't take it anymore. He wheels around and stalks out of the locker room without saying anything more to Eddie. Ripping open the door to his Jeep, he leaves the station and just drives. Before he realizes it, he's only got one turn left before Tommy's house. Well, he's here now.

Inside, Tommy is 25 minutes into a movie he doesn't know the name of when someone pounds on his door. "Okay, okay, I'm coming, hold your horses."

He opens the door to find Buck, panting and face twisted with sadness, fist raised to hit the door again.

"Hey, Buck." Tommy says, and sees him visibly flinch. Tommy's heart breaks just a little more.

His voice is small and sad when he asks, "Can I come in?"

Tommy nods and opens the door wider. Kicking off his shoes, Buck follows Tommy to the living room where he gets parked on the couch. Going to the kitchen, Tommy fills two glasses with water.

"What happened?" Tommy asks, sitting as close as acceptable, despite longing to pull Buck into his arms and shield him from whatever hurts him.

"Eddie's moving. Back to Texas." His voice is smaller than Tommy's ever heard it. It doesn't fit with the exuberant, joyful man he grew to love. Tommy lets the silence sit, giving Buck time to gather his thoughts. And if he wipes a tear off his cheek, Tommy will never admit to seeing it.

"Why, Tommy?" Buck breaks the, tears threatening to fall, "Why does everybody always leave me? And logically I know that Eddie moving to El Paso isn't him directly leaving me, but when he told the team today, he said that now that Shannon is gone and Chris may as well be, that there's nothing left for him in LA anymore."

Tommy's heart shatters, listening to Buck- Evan's shaking words and breaking voice. His face cycles through fourteen emotions in fourteen seconds. "Oh Evan." Tommy finally says, softly.

"How, how can he say that? I'm here, you're here, the 118’s here, Pepa is here. I didn't want to make it about me, but this feels a lot like he's leaving me by saying that. First it was Maddie, then Abby, then you. And now Eddie." Buck is defeated. And he looks at it. Shoulders hunched in, trying to make himself as small as possible. Buck faces Tommy, with a look on his face Tommy never wants to see again. He’s going to punch Eddie for making Buck feel this way, even if it wasn’t directly his fault.

Tommy's breath catches on you. He never thought about what breaking up would do to Evan. It makes sense that he would see it as Tommy leaving him, not setting him free. Because he didn't want to be set free.

“Evan, I am so sorry.” Tommy tells him earnestly, not only apologizing for Eddie.

Buck looks at him, a look of wonder creeping onto his face. “You called me Evan.”

“Yeah, I did. And I need to say something, I shouldn’t have left you that night. I was trying to protect my heart, but in the process I destroyed yours. You didn’t deserve that. I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to justify it, but I miss you so much that it hurts.” Tommy breathes deep, collecting himself before he starts crying. “I regret it. Not what I said, necessarily, but how I said it. I should have left the conversation open so we could talk but I got scared and ran.”

“Why were you scared?” Buck asks, moving closer to Tommy.

“I fell in love with you. And it terrified me, because you don’t deserve to have someone like me, with all my baggage and flaws loving you and holding you back.”

“Tommy, I never felt that way. I’m not perfect either. And now I realize that I’ve been putting you on a bit of a pedestal, which wasn’t great, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do admire you. And I love you, baggage and all. I know I jumped the gun a bit by asking you to move in, knowing you have a whole house to your name, but what I really meant by that was that I’m ready to take the next step. Start getting into the nitty gritty stuff in our pasts, lay everything out on the table, really get to know each other.”

They sit looking at each other, having moved closer while they talked. While they confessed their love for each other. Buck is crying now, and Tommy’s not far behind.

“I don’t need to figure anything out because I want you. I want us. I know you set things at my pace before, but now we are going to go at yours.” Buck says, tentatively reaching for Tommy’s hands. Tommy's face shows surprise, and he turns his hand over under Evan’s, gripping his hand tight. They are both crying now.

“I want you too. I never should have let you go. I never want you to ask yourself why people always leave you ever again.” Tommy pulls Evan in, half in his lap, arms wrapped around each other. Evan tucks his face into that spot in Tommy’s neck where he fits like it was made for him. Evan makes a sound, curling his body into Tommy’s.

“I love you.” Buck murmurs.

Tommy presses a kiss to Evan’s curls, and whispers, “So you’ll take me back?”

“Always.”

#‣ ✦ ‣ sunset works ＞ fics #‣ ✦ ‣ 911 ＞〈 bucktommy 〉#911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #911 fic

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green28go · 1 day ago

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Butterflies.

What an unpleasant day, Magnus thought as he sat in his apothecary and stared at vast nothingness despite having demonology books on the study table. Alexander was not back yet. No, the whole truth is that Alexander, who was angry with him, had left in the morning at nine past and was still not back. It’s 4 pm now, and since his boyfriend left their home, his mind constantly circled back to the fight they had in the morning. It was awful and really loud—the argument. It had been about the immortality issue once again and this was their first big argument after they got back together since the Camille debacle. This time he had really pushed Alec’s buttons which he’d never willingly do. And Alec, by the look on his face, could understand that his boyfriend’s resolve broke and was seconds away from slamming the door, right on his face. From then, up until now, he sat worrying about him. He’d wanted to do nothing more than to look into the bright blue eyes and tell how sorry he was and that he did not mean a single syllable that he had uttered at that moment, he knew that Alec required space and he respected that, but now, his mind starts to worry and he glances at his phone if he’d received any text from Alec but feels dejected as there is no sign of what he is looking for.

He gets an idea that he deems fitting as an apology to the Archer for the way things ended between them in the morning. So, he summons a small stack of Clairefontaine Triomphe writing papers and, writes a short and sweet letter for Alec.

Dear Alexander,

I apologize for my suboptimal behavior earlier this day and would want nothing more than to tell you by holding your hand that I did not mean an ounce of what I said in the moment of heat. Believe me, love, when I say that you are indeed the best thing that happened to me in decades. Now, if you will come home, to me, I would gladly curl up with you on the couch and kiss you till the daybreak.

Love, Magnus.

He perfumed the letter with sandalwood, of course, what else would he use, and performed his little trick that sent the letter, converted into a fire message, flying out of the room to his Alec, in the form of a butterfly. He watched as it left the room swiftly and started waiting patiently for Alec to reply.

He waited and waited. Ten minutes turned into thirty and that turned into an hour and a half.

No reply, not a single word through any means from Alec. He was not on a mission or on patrol as Alec would always ensure he informed him beforehand. So, he must either be in the Institute or with the Alliance. Magnus has a half mind to track him but he resorts to calling Isabelle instead.

“Hello, my favorite compatriot from Brooklyn!”

“You don’t really know many people in Brooklyn,” he replied.

“Of course, I do, like your boyfriend who lives with you,” he is amused at Isabelle’s reply.

“And pray tell, why is your brother not your favorite?” he asked.

“Because he is in a grumpy mode and had already snapped at me once and twice at Jace,” she answered.

He is indisputably aware of the grumpiness in his boyfriend and it is his job to make it go away. Just when he was about to inquire about what Alec was doing, Isabelle pondered a question towards him.

“Magnus, does it have to be something to do with you?” she asked.

His reply was easy. Silence.

“By the angel, should’ve already known it was you, I thought it had something to do with mindless Shadowhunters who are refusing to cooperate with the Alliance,” she said again, more like realized.

“Is he in your line of sight, dear Isabelle?” he asked her.

“Yes, we are in the training room and he is staring at a piece of paper with his signature “I’m unimpressed,” look,” she said.

What Isabelle said only meant one thing. Alec is nonchalant about his apology, not impressive enough, so he’ll just strengthen his strategy to woo Alec through his cher-courrier.

“Thank you, Isabelle, now I have to make it up to your brother,” he said with determination.

“I know you will, Magnus,” she said leaving the call.

Now, he took the writing paper and started expressing his love for Alec, molded into an apology in the form of words.

Dear Alexander,

I once again stand here to tell you how sorry I am for what happened in the morning. Darling, you are exqui………………….

He filled the entire letter with his adoration for his loving Shadowhunter and, transformed it into a butterfly, scented it, and sent it flying towards the Institute.

He waited for forty-five minutes and when nothing came his way from his beloved, he took the feather into his hand and started writing again. Maybe the letter was quite a bit. So, he tried again.

My Dearest Alec…………….

No answer. He tried again.

I truly am remorseful……….

Nothing from his boyfriend. He wrote afresh with a different ink.

I want to hold you……………

None. No reply. He was reluctant to give up. He sprinkled glitter in the letter and sent it Alec’s way.

Sweetheart, I love you………

Nope, not a singular word from Alec. So, he dipped the feather in the black ink and started.

Alexander, talk to me……....

He was exhausted, not because of expressing his affection and fondness for Alec but because of having his beloved not give an expression for what he was saying. The silence was absolute torture and now it turned into anger.

Come on, this is not fair………

He wrote, and waited. The answer became obvious when he held the feather again.

He was feeling what was a huge amount of sadness, hurt, and a bit of anger and decided that this was his last letter and he was going to the Institute, once the reply from Alec resembled his previous replies.

Come home, Alexander, I’m sorry………

He sent it and waited. It was almost 10 ‘o'clock and he seriously questioned his boyfriend’s stubbornness in not wanting to speak with him and ghosting him. Was this how Alec felt during the time of their break up? He remembered how sorry Alec was and how frustrated he got in a certain voicemail. He had listened to all of them, a part of him at that time hoped that he’d preserve those voicemails if Alec never wanted to get back together with him. But that was an obstacle that they had overcome, together.

He didn’t make an effort to dress himself ever-so-enticingly as far as his fashion sense goes. He was worn out and missed having Alec by his side. The only energy he has is required to open up a portal directly to the Institute and he did that.

He was at the back of the Institute and walked, without a single thought on his mind, into the place, as he no longer required anybody to escort him. He found Jace in the corridors and Jace, who must’ve either sensed it or found it from Isabelle, had simply mouthed at him that said training room.

He strode towards the place with quietude, careful not to show his wretched worry.

There was his Alexander, his back facing him and his position upright. He was holding the bow and arrow, aiming towards the target with the proficiency that can only be achieved by vigorous training. He cleared his throat to draw the attention of his boyfriend.

Alec didn’t turn toward him and just spoke in a tone that indicated detachment and coldness. If he was surprised by his presence, he did very well not showing it.

“What do you want?”

Oh no. That angered him. After all those apologies and letters and his obvious efforts, Alec just did not do that.

“What do I want? What exactly do you want Alec?” He said with a clear indication of how furious he was.

“Nothing,” Alec stated, not moving an inch.

“Why are you being so uncompromising?” He said, his voice weary.

“You mean difficult,” Alec answered, finally turning towards him.

“No, I didn’t say that,” He immediately responded. Alec looked like someone who hadn’t been sleeping for two days and he could notice the bruises on the archer’s hands.

“But you meant it,” Alec quietly voiced his opinion.

“You’re never difficult to be with, Alexander,” He uttered in a soft voice.

Alec didn’t respond to that, he was just standing there, with his eyes looking anywhere except at the person in front of him.

“I’ve apologized so many times, Alec, and I-” he started but was cut short.

“Wait, when did you apologize?” Alec asked him, clearly confused.

“Seriously Alexander,” He said, looking every bit unimpressed.

“Magnus, You didn’t apologize at all, today,” Alec finished.

“I did,”

“In your dreams, I suppose,” Alec muttered.

“Alexander,” he retorted.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“What did you even read in those letters, Alec?”

“What letters?”

“The letters that I sent you,” he exclaimed.

“I did not receive a single letter from anybody today, the Institute mailbox is empty,” Alec declined.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, now you don’t think I am telling the truth, fantastic, what else is new?” The bitterness in his voice was evidently clear.

“Alec, will you just stop, I am trying to make things right between us,”

“So, you think I am not?”

“For Lilith’s sake, I don’t see you doing that,” He said, frustrated.

“Magnus, if you are really here to pick fights with me I-”

“My purpose of being here is not that, but I highly suppose you are the one who is trying to do it,”

Just when Alec was about to remark, they were interrupted by footsteps making their way toward the Institute. So, they naturally fell quiet. It was Clary, and she was carrying a strange cage in her hand.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” she inquired.

They nodded.

“Magnus, I’m here to ask if these belong to you,” she pointed to the box she was holding. Now, it became distinct to him what was in it—his letters—all of them. Their wings were fluttering, and those butterfly-shaped letters were trying to get out of the cage.

“They’re sparkling and have a natural glimmer of your magic, so I brought them to you,” she said, holding them out.

“Yes, they belong to me, and how did you get them? " He said, taking the cage into his hands.

“Oh, the new group of Shadowhunters from Geneva caught them, they are still waiting for more in the entrance,” she answered.

He’d take care of them tomorrow but for now, his priority is Alec and giving him these letters.

“Thank you, biscuit. You truly helped me a lot today,” he said with a breath of relief and gratitude toward the redhead.

“You’re welcome and good night, the both of you,” she left with a smile on her face.

He looked at Alec, who was looking at the cage in his hand. There was no anger, only mild irritation mostly masked by curiosity.

“All right, brace yourself, Alexander,” he said, hoping Alec would like what he had done.

He opened the cage and the letters went flying toward Alec, landing on Alec, forming a half-silhouette of the Shadowhunter.

“Magnus, what are these?” Alec asked not moving an inch and holding still so as not to disturb those little inanimate letters.

“Pick one and read,” he instructed his boyfriend gently.

Alec did as he was told. He watched as his eyes skimmed over the letter swiftly, the expression on his face changing, his gaze softening and a small smile forming on his angelic face.

Alec looked at him and asked.

“Are all these letters, apologies?”

“Yes, they are,”

“Why so many?”

“You were not responding so I-”

“I forgive you,” Alec didn’t blurt it out but had said it calmly.

“You didn’t read all of them,” he said.

“I will but to forgive you, you are enough,”

Alec uttered those words with such sincerity that it made him want to reach out to the Archer and wrap him in the warmest hug. But he didn’t.

“I do not mean anything I’ve said this morning, I’m sorry-” he started instead.

“Magnus, I know,” Alec told him gently.

“So, you already forgave me?”

“Of course, I did,”

“But, you didn’t say so,” he said in a quiet tone.

“Because I wanted to know,” Alec hesitated. “I wanted to know if you’d reach out to me before I’d do it,” Alec whispered.

He moved towards Alec.

“Oh, Alexander,” He cupped Alec’s face in his hands and gently tugged at his face so that the Shadowhunter would look at him. The butterflies on Alec's body stayed where they were, only fluttering a little.

“Of course, I would reach out to you,”

“I know, it’s a stupid doubt to have-” Alec mumbled but he cut him off in the middle.

“Of course it’s not sweetheart, I’m sorry that I gave you the implication that I’d never come to you first and that you had to doubt me about it,” he softly said those words, meaning every monosyllable.

Alec looked at him with adoration and in a heartbeat, kissed him. The butterflies came to life when their lips touched and then again settled on Alec.

The kiss was soft, nothing passionate but rather it was a slow one, one that is full of love and familiarity. Their hands wrapped themselves around each other.

When they finally broke the kiss but, didn’t break away from the embrace, Magnus bent his head forward and a bit downward, his forehead touched Alec’s.

“I’ll try to do better,” he said gently. A soft smile spread across Alec’s face.

“So will I,” Alec uttered with reverence.

It was a promise from both of them. They smiled into their kiss once again.

#Butterflies #my fics #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #the shadowhunter chronicles #the mortal instruments #fan fiction #long post #ao3 #inspired by the doraemon episode i watched #Yes I still watch doraemon

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shrimptiger · 1 day ago

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Congrats to Max on his 4th title, but at the end of the day, I am a Lando, Oscar and Carlos fan, not a Max fan, so I obviously wanted one of my drivers to win. Oscar and Carlos had been out of this for a while, and it's sad seeing Lando lose his chance today, but no one can deny he's had a phenomenal season.

Look at how he started: 0 wins, one pole position, and 13 podiums; and look at him now: 3 wins, 8 poles and 25 podiums. That is 3 wins, 7 poles, and 12 podiums in 22 races this season, not counting sprints and we don't know what the last 2 races have to offer.

And let's look at the standings when Max won his other titles as of now, with 2 races and one sprint left in the 2024 season:

2021: Max won with 395.5 points and second place was Lewis, 387.5, 8 point gap, but I think we all know that in 2021, it was Max challenging Lewis on the title fight, not vice versa.

2022: Max won with 454 points and Charles was second with 308, that is a 146 point gap from Max to second place in the wdc.

2023: Max won with 575 points, p2 was Checo with 285 points, fucking 290 points separating them.

2024(with 2 races and a sprint left): there is mathematically no way for anyone other than Max to win the wdc unless he gets disqualified, which I don't see happening, so we have Max wdc with 403 points and Lando in p2 with 340, only 63 points between them.

What I mean is, Max never had a challange like this year. I'm not saying that Lando is some big unstoppable machine, and I think Max did good and kept him at distance, but if you would have looked at the standings a month ago, and even before today, you would say that Lando still had a slim chance, weather you belived in him or not, and even if that chance was small.

Maybe this is my first season, and maybe I wasn't here to see Lando before his first win, but he's not the egoistic piece of shit people say he is, and maybe he's not the best talent formula 1 has ever seen, and I don't think he will ever be, but no one can deny that he's good, and you probably couldn't do his job better than him. Statistically, he is the biggest challange to Max' wdc he's ever had(once again, 2021 was Max challanging Lewis, the championship was only his to win, because he couldn't lose it if he was never top of the standings to begin with), all in the season he's got his first "gifted" win and 2 phenomenal ones to follow with 20+ second gaps to p2, which coincidentally was Max, and Lando stood on the podium for 12 of the 22 races we've had so far this season(once again, not counting sprints), that is iver half of the races this season, and he made the 1 pole position he had at the start of the season into an 8, 7 this year.

You're blind to say he didn't have a downright amazing season, atleast compared to previous years, or that he's a bad driver, and I bet you that, had you been in his car, you would not even be close to being as good as him, let alone better. Frankly, I think the hate is just mindless, if you don't have anything better to do with your life than to hate on someone for doing their job(and it doesn't go to say that he is innocent or perfect and he's done no wrong, because I agree that he made mistakes and said and done bad things, but who here hasn't?), I recommend seeing a therapist or picking up a hobby to fill your time in a somewhat productive way.

I've said what I had to say, peace out, better luck next year and congrats to Max again, a deserved champion. Feel free to say anything you think I missed.

#f1 #formula 1 #ln4 #lando norris #mclaren #mv33 #mv1 #max verstappen #formula 1 world drivers championship #formula 1 wdc

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sysig · 9 days ago

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Feeling and looking good 🌈 (Patreon)

#Doodles #Even tho it hasn't been that long it still feels like I while since I've been in my doodle rotation lol just a lower density for a while #I forget if I mentioned the first time my favourite chair broke? It doesn't feel familiar in my head so I'll give a quick rundown lol #I frequent a rocking chair <3 It's the blue one I sometimes draw digitally :D And it's starting to show its age haha #I'm not very gentle on furniture - as evidenced by it breaking Again lol #There's a specific screw in its front-right support that takes the most pressure from me getting up and sitting down #It gets stressed and stretched and is more prone to breaking just from use and it's a very integral piece!#This time it broke Really good like I thought I could fix it myself - I could not lol the screw casing had to be removed from the wood pft #But it's fixed now! Back to rocking :) Yaay <3 #Small silly set of wanting attention haha #Got it in small increments! But got it! Fully! Always happy for it haha #What was that joke doodle I made once - something like ''I have to be talked to every [XX] hours or I'll get sad'' lol #I mean it's not Untrue pft #I enjoy it <3 #And the last one! Multimedia art actually!! Ah!#The latest CJ the X video about fashion Spoke To Me - I mean most of their work tends to lol but this one...yeah #Being raised in disparate little pockets of culture unfixed from a larger cultural language and feeling lost for it......../yeah/#And I do find a lot of comfort in the question being reframed from ''What do you like'' to ''Who are you? What are you?''#I don't know what I like! Not style-wise not on this body that I'm in possession of! I like what's comfortable but that doesn't Say much #Using fashion as a signal to others that I'd very much like to be viewed a certain way and learning the ''words'' to communicate that! Ah!!#So I looked up some What-and-Who fashions I wanted to emulate and ended up in an outfit of my own clothes that looked really great on me!!#Tank top with rolled-up sleeves on the button down over it - defuser necklace - my favourite black pants and shoes with Tamagotchis hehe #And of course my rainbow bracelet <3 I felt quite handsome :)#It's not something I've done again since with different clothes but it makes me Want to! I want to be seen by those I'm winking at haha #I think it's quite lovely :)

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rox-of-iu · 1 year ago

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me + mayhem going on a stupid silly hike for my stupid silly mental health

touched grass and i am normal again (lying)

#i will get back to drawing soon let me just sleep for a few years shdjhkfds #anyway photo credit to mayhem again i cant take pictures to save my life lol #btw the caption is obvs reference to that one hike video tiktok i think so credit to that also its not my joke #anywqay it was nice did help me a little bit #been feeling a bit down due to some personal problems ykno #and also due to not being accepted into a med uni I rly wanted to (but didn't put enough effort I'll confess) and that almost no one getsin #but i was only missing one point o(-( i was the first in line outside the capacity limit hasjkdhsahd #even tho my brain is rly small for it lets be real hfjsdfhksd but like hhsdjhshdjkhd those biches at physiotherapy baited me hdsjd #mqf i have failed you lol #also i have accidentaly gotten back into one piece as I do for like two weeks periodically every few months or so dhjsdhk #so im revisiting my olde blorbo trafalgar which is just reminding me of a fact that this was one of the fuckers my itty bitty young self -#- wanted to pursue medicine beacause of lmaoooo #bad timing one piece fixation!! bad bad!! sdhhdjshdjakshd #whatevrrr whatevr whatevr io dotn care! enough of that hahhskj #but hey as some of u may remeber im czech so haa whats up with the mountains right since we are very cute and 'down to earth' state hahaha #its cuz its actually from austria :))#we went hiking there since theyre co by kamenem dohodil as they say #fuck english has the exactly same saying im moron that ruins my whole thing hjdsk 'a stone's throw away' whatever ignore that ig hahhah #so yeah very beautiful very powerful go touch some grass lads #also they are not stones throw away i was lying but close enough-#also random czechs stop jumpscaring me in other countries challenge why was there so many of us horrible horrible horrible

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vgamer164 · 1 year ago

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Trying out papercraft!

#art #paper art #papercraft #paper cutting #lighthouse #artists on tumblr #this was my first piece! wanted to do a small one to get the feel for it before going with my bigger project ideas #of course that meant the small bits were *small* but it wasnt too bad #I figured index card sized would be good so it's 3x5 #the real problem is that there are like no 3x5 frames lol #dug through our craft stash. had sparkly blue scraps from a family member's project and I put it to USE #tried taking photos of it but the sparkly never looked quite right. this is a scan of the piece #should I put this in my art tag?#...do I even remember what my art tag is?#vgs art tag #vgs papercraft #sure I'll make a new tag too. and then promptly forget that one too

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rosicheeks · 2 years ago

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gotta ask the follow up question...

What tattoo do you want to get the most?

Nooooo I want so many though 😤😤

#that’s probably the hardest part #idk what one I would want to get first #there’s this place by me and they do this sale sometimes #where they do a bunch of different tattoos #and then it’s super cheap and you go in and point to which one you want #i don’t remember the rules or anything so don’t ask me much about it #but I’ve always thought about getting a small simple one from that just to start with #since I have no clue what to expect #I used to have a whole tattoo idea notebook #I would draw ideas #I’ve always wanted to get a matching tattoo with my sister #I had a few quotes that I thought of #but I think I would really want to do some word or phrase in Greek #also have always wanted to do some sort of wings #Idk if I would ever do it but I think it would be stunning to do a huge back piece with beautiful big angel wings #also want a crown somewhere but I feel like that’s obvious 😂😂😂#growing up my dream was to do a full sleeve #but idk what it would be of #also have wayyyyyy too many quotes I want to do #but my memory is shit so I don’t remember them all by heart #I just love quotes and I think it would be nice to have a reminder of a good hopeful quote #especially when times are hard #I can look at my tattoo and read it and just breathe and calm down a bit #definitely didn’t answer your question I’m sorryyyyy #it’s been awhile since I’ve seriously thought about getting a tattoo #I need to focus on other things so I don’t think I’ll have money for a tattoo any time in the near future #once I move out of my current place then maybe I can think more seriously into tattoos #until then I need to get a new tattoo idea journal and start doodling in there when I get bored!#thanks for the question sweetie 💖#ask

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theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 2 years ago

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Let’s play a game of “How many sensory items can I accumulate before people suspect there’s something odd going on with my brain”

#like ok I can buy a lot of stuff; but they are never on impulse #I typically wait three days before buying something small and inexpensive after seeing it for the first time #that number increases with the amount of money I have to spend #because I MUST determine if I will like and use it before I even think about buying it #to the point where I was actually mulling over which cheap bamboo flute to get at a garage sale one time (there were two; I couldn’t choose)#and my dad was like ‘just get both; they’re only 25 cents a piece’ and I went ‘Oh? I’m allowed to do that… I forgot’#same with snacks and sweets #I cannot eat a large cookie twice in a day unless the second large cookie is a different flavor than the first #But I can eat as many small cookies as I want in a day; so long as they are in multiples of three #I can only eat one of each thing a day because it’s weird to eat the same ingredient for two meals in a day; unless it’s cooked differently #like scrambled eggs vs egg drop soup; but if I ate pancakes in the morning I won’t eat pancakes for dinner #unless they are leftovers from eating out #I can only comment once per meeting; otherwise it feels ick #anyway I bought a lot of sensory stuff in the past year lol #and I thought about each one before I bought it #I waited four whole months to buy chewelry when I knew I wanted some #but somehow that fail safe gets overridden if it’s a small business and they have something I’ve been looking for #because why wouldn’t I buy from a small business? we love our artisans in this household #especially if the business is owned by a minority group or nonprofit for a good cause

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tinystarbites · 2 months ago

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accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

#tinywrites #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #tinywrites:accidents #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader

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