#to be honest I might stop reading part two for a while and just wait for some chapters to build up because

[meownotgood]

hi mags! how do you feel about the newest chapter?

I don't know what fujimoto is cooking but I'm gonna need that bug eyed bitch to get the hell away from denji

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye. 

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app. 

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened. 

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever. 

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself. 

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent. 

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message. 

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot. 

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner. 

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”. 

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste. 

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out.  She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on. 

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place. 

Finally, you knock. 

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest. 

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer. 

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.  

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him. 

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.” 

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.” 

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.” 

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him. 

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.” 

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.” 

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen. 

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals. 

“Water is fine,” you tell him. 

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf. 

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed. 

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close. 

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence. 

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension. 

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.” 

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.” 

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.” 

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully. 

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now. 

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it. 

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering. 

It’s good. Better than most. 

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile. 

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin. 

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side. 

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.” 

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?” 

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.” 

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts. 

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands. 

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name. 

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair. 

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom. 

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak. 

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat. 

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment. 

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer. 

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest. 

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!” 

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen. 

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.” 

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 1: "The one with the proposal" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Chapter summary: The journey from Dallas to Austin is tense but tolerable, as you and Frankie do your best to ignore the mutual disdain simmering between you. But everything derails when a chance encounter with Harry—your ex—and his fiancée pushes you to tell a spur-of-the-moment lie. Frankie’s reaction makes it clear he’s not on board. WC: 14.3k

A/N: Okay, here's my new baby! And I fucking love it! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Also, just a heads-up: I’ve taken some creative liberties with the characters. While this story is inspired by the ones in Triple Frontier, it barely follows the events of the movie, and the characters themselves aren’t portrayed exactly as they are in the film. PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts—your feedback means so much to me! Knowing what you think truly motivates me to keep going. So don't hesitate and let me know <3 Also, if you want to be on the tag list, let me know. And don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifs :)

When Santiago’s message arrived, you read it three times, as if repetition might change the words or soften their impact.

[Santi]: Hey bubs, mornin. I’m really sorry but I won’t be able to come get you. I’ll meet you at home later tho. Frankie will pick you up, same time as planned, don’t worry:)

The words seemed to pulse faintly on the screen, a quiet disruption of the neat plan you’d constructed in your head.

Frankie. He wasn’t your first choice—or your second, or third. If you were honest, he didn’t even make the list.

That morning had started with a sense of calm, a kind of orderly anticipation. The steady hum of the fan in the corner of Emma’s room, the cool sting of the shower water, the first sip of coffee, sweet and bitter all at once—it all felt like the clean slate of a well-prepared day. You’d zipped your suitcase shut with a satisfying finality, placed your carry-on by the door. Nothing left to chance.

The plan was simple: you’d take the bus. Predictable, unremarkable. But Santiago had insisted earlier that week, his voice crackling through the phone with a kind of rare, unguarded enthusiasm.

“We can stop for lunch, you know? Like we used to do with dad. Maybe even take a detour if we find somethin' cool,” he’d said, his tone warm, almost playful.

You’d been leaning against Emma’s kitchen counter at the time, a glass of wine in one hand, a cube of cheese in the other, and your phone between your cheek and your shoulder. Emma raised an eyebrow from across the room, silently prompting you to explain.

“Everything okay with Yovanna?” you teased, your voice carrying just enough edge to feel like a joke, even though it wasn’t entirely one. “Or is this an excuse to run away for the day?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed, the kind of laugh that came easily between you two. “I just want to spend time with you. It’s been ages since we really caught up. I miss you like hell.”

That stopped you. He wasn’t wrong—months had passed since the two of you had talked properly, beyond the surface-level exchanges over meals or texts.

“Okay,” you’d said, your voice softer than before, though you avoided looking at Emma. “I miss you too. I’ll wait for you then.”

And now, this. No Santiago, no shared lunch or detours. Just Frankie, an unwelcome rewrite of the day you thought you had mapped out so clearly.

You sat back against the bed frame, rereading the message one last time. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie. Frankie. Fucking Frankie. Now the plan had unraveled, and the disappointment felt sharper than you wanted to admit.

You let the phone fall to the bed beside you, the screen dimming as it landed.

Emma lay stretched out next to you, her head tilted toward the TV, where an episode of Friends played on low volume. It was one of those episodes you both knew by heart, the kind you could recite without effort. The one where everybody finds out. The blue light from the screen washed over her face, softening her features, making her eyes look brighter than they really were. Without looking away, she reached out and hooked her arm around yours, a quiet gesture that felt like home. She’d done the same thing when you were teenagers, sharing the lumpy couch in your parents’ living room, giggling over something trivial while your mom cooked dinner in the next room.

“What happened?” she murmured, her voice soft but curious, as if she could already sense the shift in your mood. The laugh track bubbled in the background, filling the space between her words.

“Santi’s not coming,” you said, glancing at the TV without really seeing it. “He sent Frankie.”

You felt a pang, not just from the change in plans but from the weight of the goodbye looming in the background. You’d learned to carry that feeling since Emma moved out of Austin—this persistent ache, like a thread pulling tighter with every visit that ended. On most days, it faded into the background. But today, it stuck to you, clinging like a damp sock you couldn’t quite shake off.

“That Frankie?” 

“I doubt he knows any others.”

“How convenient,” she said, her voice low with mockery, though her arm squeezed yours gently. “Well, call me when you get there. And try to be nice to him, if you can manage it.”

Emma turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of her eye. “And don’t take too long to come back and visit me, okay?” 

“You could always visit Austin, you know."

“It’s more fun if you come here. You get to be a tourist,” she said, with that breezy logic she always used to disarm you. “I already know Austin. That’s not so exciting.”

You snorted, more out of habit than disagreement. She wasn’t wrong. Emma rarely was.

The rest of the evening passed in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the television. First, another episode of Friends, then one of The Nanny. The rhythm of the shows was familiar, the kind of easy, forgettable comfort that didn’t require much from you. At some point, Emma shifted closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Her breathing slowed, deepened, a steady rise and fall that seemed to sync with your own. She didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was something about her presence, her weight against you, that felt like a reminder—you were understood here, even when you didn’t have the words to explain yourself. She wasn't just your best friend, she was your sister.

The sharp blare of a car horn shattered the calm, breaking through the evening like the crack of distant thunder. You flinched, your body instinctively tensing, the warm cocoon of the moment dissolving in an instant. Emma didn’t stir much, her eyes still closed, her arm still draped over yours. You nudged her gently, tapping her arm until she groaned softly and sat up, squinting against the glow of the TV.

“I think he’s here,” you said, your voice low but cutting through the quiet.

Emma stretched in one graceful motion, her arms arching overhead before she bent down to grab the bright lavender Crocs she kept by the bed. The shoes, adorned with an assortment of decorative pins—a blue flower, a miniature coffee cup, and a small plastic dinosaur—were an oddly perfect reflection of her: delicate, energetic, and just the right amount of ridiculous, in the best way. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” she said, her tone casual, but there was a softness to it, an unspoken understanding that made the impending goodbye feel heavier.

Outside, the heat clung to you immediately, the air thick and sticky, humming with the faint buzz of cicadas. Your gaze landed on the car parked in front of Emma’s house, and something in you tensed. It wasn’t Santi’s car, of course, and it wasn’t Santi standing there waiting.

Frankie was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his whole posture radiating impatience. He looked as though he’d been sculpted there, his bored expression so exaggerated it almost felt theatrical. The heat shimmered in waves around him, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. He wore a rumpled gray shirt that looked like it hadn’t been ironed in weeks and a pair of dark sunglasses, their reflective lenses hiding whatever was going on behind them. The cap was familiar, too—plain, worn, the same style you’d seen him wear before, though this time in a faded gray that matched his shirt.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, you thought maybe this was all a mistake. That Santi might suddenly appear, stepping out from behind the car or walking up the driveway with that easy laugh of his, telling you it had all been a joke. But the driveway remained empty, and Frankie, noticing you, straightened up with a kind of deliberate slowness.

He started walking toward you, each step measured, as if he were pacing himself for an obligation he didn’t particularly want to fulfill. His movements had the casual indifference of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but was too resigned to argue.

“Where’s Santi?” you asked as you approached, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Frankie didn’t answer immediately. He simply closed the distance between you with deliberate, unhurried steps. Then, without a word, he grabbed the suitcase from your hand in one fluid motion. The gesture caught you off guard—not because he took it, but because of how mechanical it felt. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you in any meaningful way. It was as though you were just an extension of the bag he was moving, an obstacle to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t make it,” he said at last, his voice flat, almost dismissive.

He hauled the suitcase toward the trunk and tossed it in with a thud that seemed louder than it should’ve been. The sound echoed briefly, underscoring his lack of finesse. He slammed the trunk shut with a single decisive motion and turned back toward the driver’s seat, his body language broadcasting that he considered the interaction over.

“He didn’t tell me anything about it,” you said, your voice rising slightly, tinged with disbelief. You stayed rooted to the spot, your feet planted as if the weight of the confusion had sunk into the concrete beneath you.

Frankie paused, his hand on the car door.

“It was a last-minute thing.” 

Before you could respond—before you could even begin to untangle your frustration into something coherent—he opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled it shut behind him with a force that made the air shudder.

You turned back toward the house. Emma was watching from the porch, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her expression hovered somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment, her head tilting slightly as you approached.

She hugged you tightly, holding on a beat longer than usual. When you pulled away, her eyes searched yours, silently asking questions you didn’t have answers for.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” you said, though you weren’t sure what the call would entail—whether you’d laugh about all this, or vent, or just let her voice fill the empty spaces.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile, one tinged with resignation.

“I love you so much,” you added, your voice quieter now. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do. I love you too. Take care and call me as soon as you can."

She stepped back as you turned toward the car, your feet dragging slightly with each step.

Now, an hour and a half later, the car sped steadily toward Austin, the scenery blurring into a series of indistinct shapes. Frankie hadn’t said a word since you’d left Emma’s house, and the silence had settled in the car like a heavy fog, pressing down on you with every passing mile.

You’d considered speaking—several times, in fact—but every potential conversation starter you thought of seemed pointless. What was there to say to him? You barely knew each other, and what little you did know felt more like a series of grudges than shared history. The only things you had in common were your mutual love for Santi and, apparently, your mutual irritation with each other. Neither felt like enough to bridge the yawning gap between you.

You stared out the window, the dry, flat landscape sliding by in endless monotony, like a movie stripped of plot and color. Pale beige fields stretched into the horizon, broken only by the occasional cluster of power lines. The sameness of it all seemed to lull the world into a kind of dull, static hum.  

The only relief came from the music spilling softly from the car’s speakers—classic rock, its grainy tones unmistakable even at low volume. The sound was tethered to Frankie’s phone, resting in the cupholder beside him, the screen glowing faintly every so often with an incoming notification he didn’t bother to check. A Fleetwood Mac song began again, its familiar opening chords filling the silence for the third time since you’d left.  

You shifted in your seat, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to the road ahead.

“Do you like this song?” 

“I think so.”

“It’s played three times already.”

“It’s a good song,” he said softly, his voice low enough to be mistaken for an afterthought. 

You turned back to the window, letting the conversation dissolve into the space between you. He hadn’t said it to be defensive—just matter-of-fact, like the song itself was reason enough. You folded your arms across your chest, the seatbelt digging slightly into your side.  

Then, your mind wandered back to Santi, to the message that had upended your day. What had he been thinking? Of all his friends, why send Frankie? The question rolled over in your head, each repetition more insistent than the last. Was it an oversight? A logistical decision made in haste, without considering how you’d feel about it? Or was it intentional? That idea sat uneasily with you, gnawing at the edge of your thoughts. He knew how strange things felt between you and Frankie. Hell, everyone knew. They’d all been there, witnessed it firsthand—the arguments, the uncomfortable silences, the way your personalities seemed to clash as naturally as oil and water.  

The possibility that Santi might’ve chosen Frankie on purpose—maybe even as some misguided attempt to force you into tolerating each other—bothered you more than you wanted to admit. You shifted again, suddenly restless, as the car hummed along the empty stretch of highway, the silence between you growing heavier despite the steady background of Fleetwood Mac.

Over the last few years, Frankie had been a fixture in your life, the way someone else’s shadow might be—not yours, but unavoidable. Being your brother’s best friend meant your paths crossed often enough, though you both seemed to approach these encounters with mutual disdain. You didn’t like him, and he didn’t bother pretending to like you. Disgust was the word that came to mind when you thought about how he looked at you. Not exaggerated or theatrical, just a cool, unflinching disgust, as though he found something about you fundamentally wrong. 

The last time you’d spoken more than a handful of clipped, perfunctory words to each other was in Santi’s kitchen a few years ago. That was the breaking point. The fight. It wasn’t dramatic, not really—no yelling, no slammed doors—but it was the kind of exchange that changed things irreversibly. After that, you decided you didn’t want to think about him, let alone look at him, ever again.

And that was the end of it. You stopped trying to explain. You'd come to accept that to Santi, Frankie was probably nothing like how you saw him. You weren't sure what it was about him that rubbed you the wrong way, but you knew that with your brother, Frankie surely couldn't be as unpleasant as he was with you. 

So, you ignored him. Every time you saw him, you made sure your gaze passed over him like he was just another fixture in the room. And he did the same. It was as though you were two people occupying the same space, but never truly sharing it.

Why on earth, then, had he agreed to come and pick you up?

The silence in the car stretched on, and you settled into the uncomfortable rhythm of it, letting it fill the space between you and him. Frankie’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, and his thumbs twitched restlessly over the steering wheel.

Finally, he broke the silence, but his words felt like a formality.

“We'll stop for lunch,” he said, his voice low, almost indifferent. His gaze flickered to you for a brief second, enough to make sure you had heard, before returning to the road. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Do you mind?”

You were starting to feel the pangs of hunger yourself, but you didn’t let that soften your response. You couldn’t. 

“No,” you replied, your voice curt, colder than you intended.

Frankie nodded, the movement barely noticeable. He turned his attention back to the road, his expression unchanged, as though you hadn’t spoken at all. His calmness was maddening. 

For a moment, you considered breaking the silence again, saying something just to disrupt his steady composure. But then you thought better of it. There was still a long way to go, and the last thing you wanted was for this trip to feel even more suffocating than it already was. So you stayed silent, the weight of your irritation pressing down on you, knowing that with each mile, you were only getting closer to end of this torture.

Fifteen minutes later, the engine turned off  and you looked over at the driver's side, half-expecting Frankie to say something—anything—but he was already in motion. Before you could open your mouth, the door swung open, and he was out of the car, his body moving with an urgency that seemed to come from some invisible force, as though he were escaping the confines of the vehicle. For a moment, the empty passenger seat seemed to expand, making the car feel smaller, quieter. 

You stayed there a second longer, watching as Frankie made his way across the parking lot. His steps were steady, deliberate, almost too casual, as if walking away from you might somehow erase you from the moment entirely. He didn’t look back, didn’t pause to see if you were following. And honestly, you weren’t in any rush to do so. There was no reason to catch up with him. He clearly didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be near him either. This trip wasn’t about you; it was about doing your brother a favor.

The parking lot was modest, just enough space for the few cars scattered about. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a typical lot for a small, unassuming restaurant. The faded lines barely marked the spots, and you counted five cars parked across the patch of asphalt. The windows of the restaurant were perfectly clean, and you could see people inside. A couple of families were chatting animatedly at their tables, and a few solitary diners were hunched over their food, their focus far from the simple meal in front of them.

With a sigh, you walked toward the entrance. Above the door, the sign Jimmy’s buzzed softly in red neon, its glow a little too bright for the evening light. Next to it, a yellow arrow with tiny, flickering bulbs pointed inside, inviting anyone who passed by to come in. "Eat here!" The sign seemed eager, almost enthusiastic in its attempt to catch attention.

You pushed open the door, the bell chiming brightly above your head as you stepped inside. The rush of cool air from the air conditioning met you instantly, a welcome contrast to the heat that still clung to your skin from the car. The coolness was almost too sharp, sending a slight shiver down your spine as you paused just inside the doorway. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the softer light inside. The diner was small, but it had a cozy, familiar feel, with colorful walls and a few tables scattered around. The noise inside was a comfortable hum, punctuated by the occasional clink of silverware, low conversation and the music in the background.

It didn’t take long to spot him. Frankie was seated at the bar, absorbed in the menu in front of him. His posture was casual, but there was something about the way he held himself, his shoulders slightly hunched, that made it feel like he was a little too withdrawn, like he didn’t want to engage. 

You walked toward him slowly, the sound of your footsteps softened by the tiles beneath you. You were just about to sit next to him when he looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before returning to the menu. His voice was flat, almost bored as he spoke, as if the interaction was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

“Go find a table,” he said, his tone neither rude nor warm.

You frowned, taking the menu from his hand without a word. His gaze didn’t follow you as he stood up, stretching slightly as he rose from the bar stool. There was something about his movements—relaxed, yet sharp—that made you feel like you weren’t really a part of whatever was going on. His shirt clung slightly to his back from the heat of the car, the evidence of sweat still visible on his skin, and you couldn't help but notice the fine hairs on his arms standing on end, a subtle sign of the sharp contrast between the stifling heat outside and the chill of the air-conditioned room.

“I’m goin' to the bathroom. Be back in a sec,” he added casually, his voice even, before disappearing down the narrow hallway to the right. No expectation of a response. No glance to see if you were still standing there, just a simple statement. He was gone before you could offer anything in reply.

You were left standing there, the laminated menu in your hands, a slight weariness creeping in.

With a sigh, you turned on your heels and began scanning the room for a table. There was still at least an hour and a half of travel left, plus however long you'd spend eating. Why hadn’t Santi given you a heads-up? You could’ve taken the bus or the train, something that didn’t involve sitting in a car with anyone but him. But no, that wasn’t even an option, apparently. 

You spotted an empty table near the back, next to the window, and as you walked toward it, the decor around you caught your eye. The place had a playful, nostalgic vibe, as if it were trying to channel the spirit of another time. Framed posters of Grease, Fame, Footloose, and Saturday Night Fever hung on the walls, adding to the feeling of a throwback to the ‘70s and ‘80s. It was all very upbeat, almost theatrical, like a movie set. The tables were red and white, and a jukebox stood in the corner.

You glanced at the posters, half wondering if the owner had lived through that era or just loved the aesthetic of it all. Either way, it gave the place a sense of warmth and a bit of character, a stark contrast to the outside. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet murmur of the restaurant, sharp and unexpected, and your name echoed in the air. You froze, the sound ricocheting in your chest, followed by a rush of emotions you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone feel. You could feel the familiar tension ripple through your muscles, a mix of surprise, confusion, and something deeper you couldn’t quite place. Slowly, you turned to face him, every step feeling like it took an eternity.

“Harry,” you said, the name falling from your lips like it belonged to someone else, someone distant. A smile flickered across your face—perfectly timed and just the right shape, though it felt hollow, as fake as the kindness you were trying to project. Your lips tightened, a familiar mask of politeness slipping over your expression, one you wished you didn’t have to wear. “What... what are you doing here?”

His smile was instant and disarming, his surprise clear, and his happiness so genuine it made your chest tighten. For a moment, it erased the absurdity of seeing him here, of all places, in the middle of nowhere. The coincidence felt cruel, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you.

The last time you saw him, three months ago, it felt like a lifetime ago—a goodbye steeped in heartbreak. You’d clung to him, tears soaking his crisp white shirt as he whispered reassurances: “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I care about you.” But the words he didn’t say cut deeper: he cared for you, but he loved her.  

It had been a casual fling, no strings attached—or so you told yourself. Then came the day he confessed: he was in love with Lisa, a friend you’d never met. They were getting married. His words, calm and rehearsed, felt like a gut punch, but his excitement betrayed him. He was happy. You weren’t.  

You tried to be strong, to tell him you were fine, even as you broke down. Because you loved him, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him with her.  

And now, here he was, smiling like nothing had happened, curiosity in his eyes—oblivious to the wreckage he’d left behind.  

In front of him, Lisa was sitting with a big bright smile. You’d seen her face before, her perfectly curated Instagram photos, her flawless smile that could have been lifted straight from a movie. But in person? She was even more striking, the kind of beauty that didn’t need filters or captions. The kind of beauty that made everything around her seem insignificant, that made you feel small just standing next to her. Her presence was magnetic, the sort of thing that pulled your gaze despite every instinct telling you to look away.

Suddenly, the air conditioning hit you like a blast of cold, sharp enough to make you flinch. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the air conditioning. Maybe it was just your body freezing in place, rigid with surprise and something much harder to define. You didn’t know how to respond. Harry was talking—his voice was there, filling the space, but the words barely reached you. They felt like distant echoes, the kind that might have meant something once but now were just noise, reverberating uselessly around you.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked, pulling you back from the tangle of thoughts you were trying so hard to keep at bay.

You blinked, trying to center yourself, but it was like you had forgotten how to breathe properly.

“We’re... I’m just passing through, heading back to Austin,” you said, your voice sounding too steady, too rehearsed, even to your own ears. Your heart was lodged somewhere near your throat, threatening to choke you if you said too much. “I went to visit Emma.”

“Ah, Emma. How is she? Is she still in Dallas?”

“Yep,” you answered, the word sharp and clipped, offering nothing more. 

The silence hung between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel it stretching, wrapping itself around your words, making them heavier than they needed to be. Finally, you exhaled, the air coming out in a slow, resigned sigh.

“What about you guys? What are you doing around here?”

You didn’t really want to know, not at all.

“Lisa’s grandparents live in Waco,” Harry said with that wide smile of his, the one that always made you feel like you were watching the world tilt on its axis. He looked at Lisa like she was the center of his universe, as if everything that mattered began and ended with her. “We went to take the invitation to them personally and I met the rest of the family while we were at it.”

You didn’t smile. You couldn’t. Your lips pulled tight, the gesture feeling almost painful, like your face wasn’t sure how to form the expression anymore. The words were there, though, just beneath the surface.

“Right, right.” You swallowed, forcing the words out despite how hollow they felt. “How cool. You must be so excited—a summer wedding, then?”

You’d known for weeks—September 6th. The invitation, with its sparkling gold lettering, had made your stomach churn. You buried it under junk mail, unable to face seeing him so happy, so certain of what he had.

But you couldn’t say that, could you? You couldn’t tell him that the mere thought of them together, of their future, felt like a knife to your chest. So you forced a smile, a tight, lifeless thing, and let the conversation carry on.

"That's right," Harry said, laughing as his gaze flickered to Lisa, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Even though we wanted to enjoy the early days of fall, Lisa wanted to get married around summer, mostly because of her parents. They got married during summer too."

Lisa laughed softly, the sound like a note held too long, then spoke, her voice low and warm.

"It's not just that," she said, her hand resting lightly on Harry's. You found yourself looking away, unable to hold the image of them together for too long. "Everything looks more beautiful during this season, doesn't it? Even the days last longer."

Her voice was thick with something you couldn't quite place—familiarity, maybe. Or maybe it was love, that unspoken thing that you couldn’t ignore, even if you wanted to. The way they fit together made everything else seem smaller, less important. And yet Harry’s eyes shifted to you, seeking something. Approval, maybe. He didn’t say it, but it was clear. His look said: Don’t disagree.

"That's true. Summer is beautiful," you replied, feeling the words slip out too easily, forced through your teeth. Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you felt Lisa’s smile hit you like a jolt. It was stunning—perfect in a way that seemed almost too much, like she’d been born to smile in that exact way. You hated her for it, just a little.

"We look forward to seeing you there," Harry said, breaking the moment, his words direct and heavy. "We haven't received your confirmation—you’re going, aren't you?"

How could he ask that, not see how unnatural this felt? But Harry wasn’t cruel—just unaware. You’d never told him you loved him, never made your feelings clear. To him, this was normal. He thought you’d be fine.

“I... um—” 

“Don’t worry about going alone,” he said, that same nonchalant tone that had once made you smile. "You always meet people at weddings."

Heat flooded your face, burning like a slap. The words stung, but his obliviousness made it worse. You wished the ground would swallow you whole—or anything to escape. Instead, you laughed—a thin, brittle sound that barely masked the pain.

"Ah, no, that’s not it," you lied, your voice trembling just enough for Harry to notice. "That's covered."

“Oh, is it?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned forward, a relieved smile crossing his face.

"Sure," you said, forcing a confidence into your tone that you didn’t feel. "I’ll... I’ll go with my boyfriend."

Harry's eyes widened a little, and then the smile appeared again—this one more genuine, more curious. He tapped the table, an excited gesture that made your stomach twist.

“You don’t say?” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You wanted to crumble. You wanted to say nothing, because the truth felt too big, too overwhelming, and there was no way to say it without everything falling apart. But you couldn't. You just couldn't.

As if by some celestial miracle, you saw Frankie emerge from the hallway, his attention absorbed by the screen of his phone, scrolling, unaware of anything around him. His timing was perfect, and relief washed over you, as if fate had sent him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, yet there he was—a lifeline in the chaos.  

For a moment, he seemed to glow, his familiar, worn cap catching the harsh lights like a crown. You’d never been so glad to see someone. Then his eyes met yours, and his expression shifted—confusion flickering as he took in your frantic stance, the mess of emotions written on your face.  

Before you could stop it, before you could make any sense of what was happening, a smile stretched across your face—too wide, too fast, like a reflex you hadn’t been prepared for. It was probably a little too sharp to be anything but forced, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help anything.

"Frankie," you said, the words tumbling out with more enthusiasm than you intended. It sounded too bright, almost exaggerated, but there was no stopping it now. "This is Frankie... Frankie, my boyfriend.”

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it didn’t matter—you needed to make something clear. Frankie tensed beside you, glancing your way, trying to read the situation. His eyes met yours, and you silently begged him: Help. Please.

For a moment, he studied you, his gaze flicking between you and the couple. Then, as if something clicked, his expression shifted to understanding. He realized what he had to do and adjusted instantly.

"Right," he finally said, his voice low, the smile on his face still a little unsure but polite. "I’m Frankie."

Harry extended his hand with a practiced smile, warm but a touch too bright. Frankie hesitated, his gaze shifting from Harry’s hand to your face, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation—or his role in it.  

You stepped closer, tapping his waist lightly, a subtle signal to act. He blinked, refocusing, and finally took Harry’s hand, his grip firm and deliberate. But in his eyes, there was a flicker of discomfort—one only you noticed.

“Frankie,” Harry said, his voice carrying a weight of something too calm for the situation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I'm Harry.” Then, he nodded enthusiastically, dropping his hand back to the table. “And this is Lisa."

Lisa smiled, her gaze bright and almost blinding.

“Nice to meet ya, Frankie,” she said, her voice the epitome of warmth, her charm effortless, her presence just... perfect. Oh my God, just stop it!

Frankie finally turned his attention back to you, though it wasn’t immediately clear if he was still processing the social niceties or deciding how best to carry this conversation forward. His voice shifted slightly as he spoke again.

“Same here,” he said, his tone unfamiliar to you—something smoother, almost softer, like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. 

He moved closer, just a bit too close, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, sending a flutter through your stomach. His hand rested lightly against your side, his palm warm at your back. You froze, unable to focus on anything but the pulse of his touch, the way he effortlessly played the boyfriend role.

It felt wrong, uncomfortable.

Confusion and relief mixed inside you, unsure if the relief came from the act itself or the distraction it provided from the situation.

"Well," Frankie broke the silence. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave soon. I want to make sure this beautiful woman gets some food before we go—otherwise, she goes bad."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the way he phrased it. 

Harry chuckled, his easy laughter filling the space.

“Yeah, I believe you,” he said, his grin still wide but with a spark of curiosity. He shot a look at Lisa, then back at Frankie, narrowing his eyes just a touch. “That’s the main reason we stopped. Though I’ll admit,” he added, glancing down at the table with a mock grimace, “I was the one really starving.”

The awkwardness of the moment barely registered for Harry. He seemed to think everything was going smoothly, unaware of the small cracks in the facade that were threatening to show. Frankie, however, was more aware than anyone, and you could see it in his eyes—the way his face shifted from the casual smile to something more guarded, something more carefully neutral. 

Frankie gave a short, almost amused laugh, pulling his arm back from your waist with a light tap. His tone was polite, more deliberate than before.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can relate,” he said, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Keeping your lady happy, that's what it's all about, isn't it?” 

You tried to smile, but it came out thin, tight around the edges. Your legs became weak. 

Harry’s laugh was light. He buyed it.

Frankie straightened up slightly, offering his hand to Harry in that careful, calculated way that now seemed practiced, even though it hadn’t been moments ago. His movements were calculated, polite, but entirely different from the Frankie you knew. The way he was acting felt like an entirely unfamiliar version of him—Thank God.

“Okay, thanks for the chat, but we bett—” 

"Yeah, of course," Harry interrupted, still upbeat and completely oblivious to the tension. "It was nice meeting you, Frankie. Take care of her, alright? She's... well, you know. A special one."

Frankie’s smile stiffened, the edges barely moving as he gave a short nod. His eyes flicked to you for a fleeting second, his expression tight and controlled, though something was definitely off.

"I will, man," he replied, voice steady but carrying an underlying edge. "I’ve got her covered. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands."

“Bye, Harry,” you said, turning to him with a friendly but somewhat distant smile, your hand lifting in a wave that felt too casual for the weight of everything you hadn’t said. “And you too, Lisa. Good luck with the wedding!”

Lisa smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice smooth. “Let us know if you're coming."

“Yeah. Hope to see you at the wedding. You too, Frankie,” Harry said, just before you thought about starting to walk to the table at the back of the place.

Frankie looked confused, and looked at you for an answer, or for you to say something.

"Sure," you said, taking him by the arm, ready to leave. "We'll definitely be there!"

You moved in silence toward the booth, Frankie's hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you like an automatic reflex. The low hum of conversation in the restaurant seemed to fade as you both reached the table, and you were strangely relieved that the high backs of the seats shielded you from Harry’s view. 

He dropped into the seat across from you, his presence as loud and brash as ever, even without a word. When you looked at him, it struck you how quickly he'd reverted to the expression he always wore around you—furrowed brows, lips pressed into a thin, almost unnatural line. It wasn’t clear if it was annoyance, confusion, or just him being him.

“I’m so hungry,” you said, flipping through the laminated menu like it might hold the answers to something bigger than lunch. “I really want a burger, and some fries.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his stare heavy on you. Then:

“What the fuck was that?”

You sighed, closing the menu and flattening your hands on the table as if bracing yourself. His face was a familiar mix of wide eyes, creased forehead, and that particular grimace that always made you feel like you’d said something wrong.

You shrugged. “My ex.”

“Okay? And?”

“And that’s it. Nothing else.”

Frankie leaned back with a dramatic exhale, the leather of the booth creaking under him. He shook his head in disbelief, his jaw tightening.

“Since when am I your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone sharp with irritation. “Last time I checked, I was doing your brother a favor.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, cheeks warming. You picked up the menu again, trying to will your face back to neutrality. “Thanks for playing along, anyway.”

He sighed—loud, pointed. You glanced up, and sure enough, he was staring at you, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Not impatient, exactly. Calculated.

“You’re not going to tell me what the fuck that was?”

You ignored him, letting the embarrassment swirl hot in your stomach as you fixed your eyes on the menu. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Fries. Onion rings, maybe.

“Hey,” he said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping your head up to look at him.

“Oh, are you talking to me?”

Frankie gave you a look so exaggerated you almost laughed, except you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Who else would I be talking to? You think I’m out here monologuing? Who are you, fucking De Niro?”

“Hey!” you snapped, slamming the menu down on the table. The sound echoed between you, a sharp punctuation that sent a ripple of air across his forehead, lifting the dark strands just slightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Francisco. Who do you think you’re talking to? We’re not friends.”

He snorted, the sound sharp but oddly soft at the same time, pulling off his cap and placing it on the seat beside him. With a low groan, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly in the strands. His gaze found yours again, his posture seemingly relaxed but betraying a subtle tension. You could see it in the way his shoulders didn’t quite settle, in the way his eyes didn’t blink as he studied you.

“I know, we’re not friends. But I just lied for you. Why? Who was that? And why are you acting so weird?”

Before you could answer, he straightened in his seat, leaning forward slightly. “No, wait. The real question is: why are you acting weirder than usual?”

You folded your arms, leaning back until you felt the booth press into your shoulders. Your gaze flicked to the front door, the thought of walking out taking root in your mind. Leaving felt easier—safer. Honestly, you’d rather trudge all the way back to Austin on foot, the heat and endless asphalt blistering your skin, than sit here and explain yourself to Frankie. He wouldn’t care. Worse, he might care just enough to make you regret opening your mouth.

When your eyes returned to him, though, his expression surprised you. Serious, yes. But not angry. He was watching you with an almost disarming calmness, like he’d decided he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer.

You sighed, the sound shaky as it escaped your chest.

“It’s my ex,” you said, barely above a murmur.

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Your ex. I got that part. And?”

“And his fiancée.”

“Aha,” he nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Why did you lie to them?”

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck thudding too loudly in your ears.

“Because...” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “Because... Um, he told me I might meet someone at the wedding.”

Frankie blinked, his confusion shifting into something closer to disbelief.

“What?”

“God,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck. Your hands dropped to your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. “We dated for four months, and he broke up with me to get engaged to her. Then he invited me to their wedding. When I said I’d go, he told me not to worry about showing up alone, because I’d probably meet someone there.”

Frankie’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you pressed on, a flush of anger sparking under your skin.

“So, I panicked,” you admitted, your voice sharpening. “I told him not to worry, that I’d bring my boyfriend. And then you showed up, and it just—it made sense in the moment, okay? That’s it.”

“It made sense to you to say I was your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You couldn’t have said I was someone else? Made up something better?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me!” you hissed, your eyes widening as your voice rose, though you kept it just shy of shouting. “I panicked, okay? I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do?”

He stared at you for a moment, his face a mix of annoyance and bafflement, before leaning back again. You could see the wheels turning in his head, though whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t about to share it with you.

You sank deeper into your seat, glaring at the table like it might offer some kind of solace. But all you could feel was the mortifying heat of his gaze, still fixed firmly on you.

Frankie scratched his forehead, his fingers dragging slowly down to his chin, where they rested briefly before falling to the table. His expression was skeptical, as if he were trying to solve a particularly irritating puzzle.

“Okay,” he started, his voice even but edged with disbelief. “So, you dated this guy for three months—”

“Four months,” you corrected, your tone clipped.

“Right. Four months. And then he left you to get engaged?”

“Yeah.”

Frankie leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes gave him away.

“You’re telling me he cheated on you, and you’re still planning to go to his fucking wedding? Are you out of your mind?”

He propped his chin on his left hand, elbow planted firmly on the table, and his gaze locked onto you. There was something in his expression that made your stomach twist—a combination of pity and incredulity that made you feel stupid, even if he hadn’t said the word outright.

“No, he didn’t cheat on me,” you replied, lowering your voice as you leaned forward slightly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “We weren’t in a serious relationship. We were just... casually dating. He was always in love with her, but they couldn’t figure things out. I knew that. He told me.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his disbelief evident.

“He told you he was in love with another woman, and you still kept dating him?”

“No,” you shot back, frowning. “He told me after a while—around the time we broke up. I would never date someone who was in love with someone else.”

“But you were in love with him, weren’t you?”

There it was. That tone. The one that suggested Frankie thought he had you all figured out, as if your life and feelings were nothing more than a series of obvious moves on a chessboard he could read from across the room. He was so infuriatingly arrogant, so sure of himself.

You narrowed your eyes, but the involuntary twitch of your eyebrows betrayed you.

“I had feelings for him,” you admitted, your voice stiff with frustration.

Frankie tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into a half-smile that made you want to smack him.

“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got this straight: this guy you casually dated for four months left you for another woman, got engaged, invited you to the wedding, and you, still hung up on him, agreed to go but invented an imaginary boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to show up alone. That about right?”

“I’m not in love with him,” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and shaking your head.

“I don’t believe you."

“I don’t care what you believe."

“You want to know what I think?”

“Are you deaf?” you said, your lips pressing into a pout. “I just told you I don’t care.”

“I think you’re crazy for going to that wedding,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His voice dropped lower, as though he were sharing a secret, though his words carried no sympathy. “Do you want to torture yourself or something? Are you a masochist?”

The word slipped out like a dagger, his eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction, his face drawing closer, his voice almost a whisper.

You exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and disbelief, biting your lower lip as you turned to look out the window. The distant hum of cars on the road outside felt like the only thing grounding you in the moment.

When you looked back at him, your voice was steadier, quieter.

“We’re friends. Things between us ended well. Why wouldn’t I go to his wedding?”

“So he broke your heart, and you’re still going to his wedding. Got it.” Frankie leaned back slightly as he said it, his tone deliberately even, but the words were sharp enough to make you flinch.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, anger mixing with a deep, familiar embarrassment.

“Why the fuck do you care anyway? I already told you everything. Make fun of me all you want, but stop interrogating me and leave me alone.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his expression shifting into something maddeningly amused. A slow, sarcastic smile spread across his face, the kind that made your stomach twist in irritation.

“You got me involved in this, remember?” he said, his voice light, almost playful, which only made you angrier.

“It was just a little lie, that’s all.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, you didn’t think it through,” he said flatly, reaching across the table to grab the menu you’d abandoned. He straightened it out in front of him, his fingers smoothing the creases, and his eyes scanned the options with an air of exaggerated focus.

For a moment, you thought he might actually drop it. But of course, he didn’t.

“I wonder what he’ll think,” Frankie said suddenly, his tone casual but cutting, “when he sees you show up to the wedding alone.” His eyes stayed on the menu, but his words hung heavy in the air between you. “You should’ve come up with something else. Be more witty next time. Or, I don’t know, just don’t go to the wedding. That works too.”

Oh.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the weight of it pressing down on you as your mind raced through the possibilities. He was right, of course. What were you going to do? There was no way you could actually show up to the wedding now. You’d have to turn down the invitation at the last minute, make up some absurd excuse about why you couldn’t make it. Or maybe you wouldn’t say anything at all. Harry didn’t deserve an explanation. He wasn’t entitled to one.

The silence stretched between you, uncomfortable and loud. You didn’t answer him. What could you say? You felt silly, even ridiculous, sitting there, replaying the moment over and over in your mind. Of all the places in the world, did you really have to run into Harry there, in the middle of the road, with Frankie of all people?

None of this would’ve happened if Santiago had come to pick you up like he was supposed to. If he’d warned you he couldn’t make it, you would’ve saved yourself the humiliation. You wouldn’t have had to deal with Frankie’s smirking face or his infuriating commentary.

You stared at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of it. God, why did everything have to turn into a mess? Why couldn’t things just go smoothly for once?

Frankie didn’t seem to notice—or care—that you hadn’t responded. He flipped a page of the menu, his expression unreadable now, as if he’d already moved on. But his words lingered, heavy and persistent, refusing to leave you alone.

With your appetite nearly nonexistent, you ordered a hamburger. It sat heavy in front of you, unappealing and far too big. You nibbled at it slowly, methodically, as if chewing it down might somehow help you swallow the rest of your humiliation. Across the table, Frankie made quick work of his own meal. He ate like someone who hadn’t seen food in days, the kind of eating that could make anyone watching feel small.

When he finished—barely ten minutes in—he leaned back in his chair and fixed you with a look. Not an outright stare, but enough of one that you could feel the weight of his impatience.

You didn’t care.

Instead, you turned your attention to the fries on your plate. Picking up each one with deliberate slowness, you savored them, your gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the road stretched on endlessly, shimmering in the summer heat. Frankie sighed, low and exasperated, every few minutes, but to your surprise, he didn’t rush you.

When you finally stood to leave, Harry and Lisa were nowhere to be seen. Relief swept over you like cool water. If you’d had to exchange goodbyes with them, you were sure you’d lose every bite of food you’d managed to stomach.

You followed Frankie out to the car. His footsteps were quick and purposeful, the kind that demanded anyone trailing behind him keep up or risk being left behind. Once inside, the tight, enclosed space of the vehicle made your skin crawl. You clicked your seatbelt into place, but the snugness of the strap across your chest only added to your discomfort.

For a fleeting moment, you considered bolting. What if you just opened the door and threw yourself onto the hot, sticky asphalt? You’d roll a little, maybe scrape a knee, but at least you wouldn’t be here.

The car started with a low rumble, and Frankie turned up the music without a word. The sound wasn’t loud enough to drown out your thoughts, but it added a layer of noise, a distraction you didn’t ask for but didn’t resist either.

Your gaze shifted to the scenery blurring past the window. You rested your forehead against the cool glass, welcoming the breeze coming in through the lowered window. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and sun-warmed earth.

Frankie drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel. His thumbs tapped along to the rhythm of the song playing faintly in the background—Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. You stared at the horizon, but your mind kept circling back to him.

He probably thought this whole situation was hilarious. You could see it in the way his eyebrows had lifted earlier, the way his lips twitched with incredulity every time he asked about Harry. He didn’t need to say it—he thought you were foolish, and maybe you were. You felt it, deep in your chest, that heavy, sinking shame that told you he was right to think so.

What the hell were you going to do?

Not going to the wedding wasn’t an option, not unless you wanted Harry to think you were still upset—or worse, that you still cared. But going? Going alone? That wasn’t an option either. You could bring someone else, maybe. But who?

Harry knew all your friends, and you didn’t have many male ones left who weren’t married, taken, or entirely inappropriate. Your brother’s friends? Sure, because that would work out great. Another one of Santiago’s buddies, strolling in on your arm. You ran through the list in your head. Will? No. Ben? Ben had a girlfriend.

It was hopeless. Every scenario felt more humiliating than the last.

God, you wished you could disappear. Or better yet, transform into something simple and unbothered. A worm, maybe. Worms didn’t have exes. They didn’t have weddings to dread.

You were spiraling, and it must have shown on your face because Frankie spoke up, his voice breaking through your chaotic thoughts.

“We’ll make a stop to fill up the tank, okay?” His tone was casual, distracted, as he turned left into the gas station lot.

“Sure,” you mumbled, barely lifting your head.

The car slowed to a stop, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. For a moment, the world outside felt steadier than the one inside your head.

You followed Frankie out of the car, your steps slower and more hesitant than his easy stride. He moved with the kind of casual confidence that seemed effortless, his shoulders relaxed and his head bobbing slightly as he hummed along to a song that had been playing a few miles back. The heat pressed down on you, thick and relentless, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

You lingered by the passenger side, arms folded across your chest. Your gaze flitted to the gas station shop, where shelves of snacks and cold drinks promised brief relief from the sweltering air. For a fleeting moment, you considered going inside—maybe grabbing a soda, or even just standing under the blast of an air conditioner. But then you thought about how much longer that would draw out this journey. The idea of extending your time in Frankie’s company, even by a minute, was enough to keep you rooted in place.  

So you waited, watching him in silence. He moved with the kind of efficiency you’d expect from someone used to things like this—mundane tasks, long drives, solitude. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t dawdle either. He glanced at you once as he replaced the nozzle, his expression unreadable, and then he climbed back into the car without a word.  

You followed suit, settling into your seat and pulling the door shut with a soft click.  

The miles ahead stretched out endlessly, yet the closer you got to Austin, the more your thoughts swirled. You cycled through possibilities, none of them good. Each option felt like another layer of embarrassment, a new way to showcase just how deeply you’d tangled yourself in this ridiculous situation.  

Eventually, your mind settled on one solution—a compromise of sorts, though it was far from ideal. You turned it over and over, weighing the risk against your pride. It felt heavy in your chest, but the closer you got to the city, the harder it became to ignore.  

Finally, as the familiar outline of Austin came into view, you forced yourself to speak.  

“Frankie,” you said, your voice tentative. You turned to look at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.  

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?”  

“You know,” you began, cautiously, “Santi loves you a lot. You’re one of his best friends.”  

“I know.” 

“And you must love Santi too, right? I mean, you’d do anything for him.”  

At that, he glanced at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. The kindness in your voice must have thrown him off. But what really seemed to unnerve him was the faint, almost hesitant smile you were giving him.  

“Of course I love him,” he said slowly, his tone edged with suspicion. “What do you want?”  

You smiled a little wider, tilting your head. “Why do you think I want something?”  

“Because you’re smiling at me like that,” he shot back, returning his focus to the road. “And it’s creepy. Stop it. You’re scaring me.”  

“I just think,” you said carefully, “that it was really nice of you to go all the way to Dallas to pick me up. You didn’t have to, you know. I could’ve taken a bus or figured something out. But you did it anyway. You did me a favor today, and I just—”  

He cut you off with a dry laugh, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. A bead of sweat had formed there, glistening in the harsh afternoon light.

“If you want to call it that,” he muttered.  

“I mean it,” you insisted, leaning slightly toward him. “You didn’t have to do this. You could’ve said no, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Why?”  

His grip tightened on the wheel, and he shot you another quick, sidelong glance. His expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure where this was going or if he wanted to know.

“I dunno,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “Because Santi asked me to. Because I had nothing else to do. Does it matter?”  

You pursed your lips, staring straight ahead as your thoughts spiraled. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t fear—definitely not fear of him. But still, there was something about Frankie that unsettled you, something sharp-edged and unyielding in the way he looked at you, like he could see more than you intended to show.

You forced yourself to steady your breathing, trying to reason with your own hesitation. It didn’t matter if he was intimidating. It didn’t matter what he thought of you.

“I think you should come to the wedding with me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you had the chance to second-guess them. As soon as they were out, you snapped your gaze away, focusing intently on a crack in the dashboard as though it held the secrets of the universe.

“What?” Frankie’s tone wasn’t as surprised as you’d expected—it was more amused, like he thought you’d just said something profoundly ridiculous.

“You should come to the wedding with me,” you repeated, forcing yourself to look at him this time.

He turned his head briefly, his eyes scanning your face, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be studying you, trying to decide whether you were joking or if you’d completely lost your mind. Finally, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Frankie.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, his voice rising slightly in exasperation. “Did you hit your head or something? Have you completely lost it?”

“No, just hear me out,” you said, raising a hand in what you hoped was a calming gesture. He shot you a wary glance but didn’t interrupt. “It’ll just be a favor—a small favor. I swear, if you do this for me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Wathever. Um, well—not whatever you want,” you corrected quickly. “Something reasonable. Something human. Please.”

Frankie snorted, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding of a guy who dumped you? And you’re the sister of one of my best friends?” He shook his head, laughing quietly, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of your mouth.

You sighed, the weight of your desperation pressing down on you.

“Santi will understand,” you argued, your tone bordering on pleading now. “He will. And it’s not like I’m asking for much—just come with me for a little while. We don’t even have to stay all night. Just long enough to…” You trailed off, realizing how pathetic you sounded. “Just long enough to make it believable.”

“Sorry, no,” Frankie said firmly, cutting you off. “I’m not getting dragged into your drama. And honestly? I think it’s stupid for you to go to that wedding in the first place. What are you trying to prove? My answer is no. Invite someone else.”

Frustration burned in your chest, rising up to your cheeks as his words landed. You could feel your face heating, both from embarrassment and anger.

“I can’t invite someone else,” you snapped. “You’re my boyfriend, remember? That’s what Harry thinks. He saw you. They saw you. And you did a pretty good job pretending to be nice to me today—can’t you do it one more time? Just this once?”

“No—”

“I’ll do anything you want,” you interrupted, your voice insistent. “I mean it. Any favor you can think of. Just name it.”

Frankie tilted his head, giving you a skeptical look.

“I’m not interested in any favors from you,” he said bluntly. “I don’t need anything.”

“Then do it for Santi,” you said, desperate now.

Frankie laughed at that, a low, disbelieving sound that only irritated you further.

“What does your brother have to do with any of this?”

“He’s your best friend,” you said, leaning toward him slightly, like you could will him to understand. “And you love him. And I’m his sister.”

“Uh-huh,” Frankie said, still smirking. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean you should help me?”

Frankie’s laugh grew louder, his shoulders shaking slightly as he glanced at you.

“You’re really reaching now, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at you then, the movement deliberate, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours. There was no malice there, but the firm set of his jaw told you all you needed to know—there was no convincing him. He understood the weight of your request, the quiet urgency stitched into each word, but it didn’t sway him.

“I’ve never asked you for help before,” you said, your voice softer now, almost brittle. “In fact, I’ve refused your help plenty of times. You said I was childish, remember? Well, fine. Maybe I’m being childish. But now I’m asking. Just this once.”

He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not the same thing,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to explain something simple to a child. “And you are being childish. Like I told you—no. The answer’s fucking no.”

You blinked hard, swallowing against the sting of rejection that settled heavy in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you replied, the word clipped, your voice devoid of emotion. You turned your face away from him, angling it toward the window, not wanting him to see the look on your face—humiliation, maybe, or something closer to defeat. “Thank you.”

Frankie sighed, long and low, his hands flexing around the steering wheel as though he were squeezing the last ounce of patience from himself. The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the low hum of the car and the faint thrum of your pulse in your ears.

The rest of the drive passed without a single word exchanged. You stared out the window while Frankie focused intently on the road, his grip on the wheel tight and unyielding.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your house, the relief that washed over you was immediate and overwhelming. You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out into the humid air.

Frankie followed, moving around to the back of the car with the same mechanical precision he’d had all day. He popped the trunk and pulled out your suitcase, the effort seemingly as uninspired as when he’d loaded it hours ago.

He carried it to the door and set it down, his movements brisk, almost dismissive. You stood there, arms crossed, your body angled away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“That’ll be all,” he said finally, his tone flat, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes on your face.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely audible. “I’ll let Santi know I’m home.”

“Good.”

You didn’t look up as he turned back toward the car. You didn’t watch him leave, but you heard the sound of his door slamming shut, the low rumble of the engine as he drove off.

As the noise of his departure faded into the distance, you stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer, the weight of the day pressing heavy on your shoulders. The heat prickled against your skin, and your head ached faintly, a dull reminder of how much you wanted this day to end.

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase, pulling it inside as the silence of the house enveloped you. You needed a shower—cold water to wash away the heat, the frustration, the embarrassment of it all. You needed to be alone, to let the day dissolve into nothingness behind a locked door.

Nearly two weeks slipped by, lost in the haze of your routines and the background hum of self-destructive thoughts.

What were you going to do? Probably nothing. You wouldn’t go. That was the easiest answer, and maybe the only one that made sense. What choice did you really have?

Still, Frankie’s words stuck in your head, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. What are you trying to prove? he’d asked. And after a few restless nights, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation, you realized he was right. You did want to prove something—to Harry, to yourself. You wanted him to see you happy, radiantly happy, at his wedding, as though it didn’t touch you at all. You wanted to seem light and unbothered, the kind of woman who could be at her ex’s wedding without flinching.

Except you did care. Of course, you cared. You hated that you cared. And you hated Harry for putting you in this position. How could you not be upset? The man had left you only a few months ago, and now he was marrying someone else. It wasn’t normal—none of it was. But you couldn’t shake the question gnawing at the back of your mind: why did you have to be the one left hurt?

And Frankie. You’d hated the way he’d looked at you when he said it; What are you trying to prove? What the hell were you trying to prove? like he couldn’t believe how foolish you were. If you hadn’t wanted to see him before, you definitely didn’t want to now. You resolved to talk to Santi, to tell him how uncomfortable the trip had been—without blaming Frankie, exactly—and to ask, kindly but firmly, that he warn you if Frankie would be around in the future.

It was humiliating, this whole situation. But you were sure about one thing: you never wanted to see Francisco Morales again.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving your kitchen in soft shadows as you stirred sugar into your coffee. Your gaze stayed fixed on your laptop, on Harry’s wedding invitation glowing on the screen. You’d read it so many times it felt permanently etched into your mind. But now, you’d decided. You weren’t going.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad, guiding the cursor to the “RSVP not attending” option. You paused, just for a second, your chest tightening. Then, before you could click, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, making you flinch.

Setting the mug down, you crossed to the window, peering out at the sidewalk. The sight below made your brows knit together. That couldn’t be right. Surely, you were imagining things.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, opening the door without much thought.

“Francisco,” you said flatly, his name sitting awkwardly on your tongue. “What are you doing here? Did something happen with Santi?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth and shook his head, slow and deliberate.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Your tone was sharp, incredulous, your expression twisted like he’d just said something absurd.

He looked different somehow. Neater, you thought, though you hated yourself for noticing. His hair was slightly shorter, his beard more trimmed than usual.

He sighed, long and heavy, like he’d been forced into something he didn’t want to do. The sound made you laugh, a sharp, derisive snort. As if he had the right to be irritated. He’d shown up unannounced, at night, on your doorstep. If anyone should feel fed up, it was you.

“I’m going to help you,” he said finally, the words clipped and begrudging.

“With what?”

“With your ex.”

“What?” The confusion on your face deepened. “Harry?”

Frankie glanced to the side, as if checking for onlookers, before returning his gaze to you and nodding.

“Are there other exes you need help with?”

His question was thick with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes in response.  

“Well, I don’t need your help anymore. But thanks,” you said quickly, your voice tight, as you began to push the door shut, inch by inch.  

Then his hand was on it, stopping you.  

“Wait,” he said, and this time his voice was different—tinged with something almost like desperation. “I’m serious.”  

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him through the gap.

“Why would you help me? You were very clear the other day,” you said, your tone sharp. “There’s no point in me going to the wedding.”  

“True, there’s no point,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “But I know you well enough to know you’d love to go anyway. To show Harry how great you’re doing. Am I wrong?”  

“You’re wrong,” you shot back instantly, too quickly.  

Frankie sighed, the sound dragging out like he was trying to buy himself time. He glanced away for a second, then back at you, his expression suddenly resolute.  

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said.  

You blinked at him, stunned into silence for a moment.

Then, with a raised brow, you asked, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever, Francisco?” You brought your hand up toward his forehead, but he flinched back dramatically before you could touch him.  

“What are you up to?” you asked, pulling the door open wider, suspicion laced in your tone.  

Frankie stood there, his posture stiff, his expression uncomfortable, like he was holding something in that might burst out if you pressed too hard.  

“May I come in?” he asked finally, his brown eyes soft and glinting, almost boyish.  

You hesitated, studying him for a few beats, letting the curiosity outweigh your disdain. Then you stepped back and opened the door fully, sealing the moment with the soft click of the latch behind him.  

Frankie climbed the stairs ahead of you, pausing at the top to wait as you opened the door to your apartment. He stepped inside, scanning the space.  

Your living room was warm, cozy but cluttered—books and mugs scattered across the coffee table and nearly every other available surface, interspersed with pens, pencils, and random odds and ends. Behind the sofa, the kitchen was visible, small but functional.  

You stood back, watching him take it all in. His expression was unreadable, but you imagined him silently judging the chaos. You almost wanted him to—let him think it was messy, or that your style was lacking. You didn’t care.

He didn’t belong there, in your space. Everything about him seemed incongruous with the world you’d built for yourself—his presence like a mismatched puzzle piece, forcibly shoved into place where it clearly didn’t fit. He was out of tune with your reality, standing in the warmth of your living room like he’d wandered in from an entirely different life.

You crossed to the kitchen island, where your half-drunk coffee sat waiting. Sliding onto the stool, you gestured at the one across from you.

“Have a seat.”

Frankie hesitated but eventually sat down, his movements stiff and reluctant, like he’d rather be anywhere else. His expression was tight, uncomfortable, like he was a vampire catching the faintest whiff of garlic in the air. His eyes landed immediately on your laptop, still glowing with Harry’s wedding invitation.

“I see you’re taking the wedding well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You sighed audibly, refusing to take the bait.

“What do you want?”

As you waited for him to answer, you lifted your coffee to your lips. It had already cooled, the bitterness more pronounced now that it was lukewarm. Another thing he ruined for you, you thought bitterly. Your fucking coffee. 

“I’ve been thinking—”

“Congratulations,” you cut in, deadpan.

Frankie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unamused. He didn’t even blink, just stared at you like he was waiting for you to get it out of your system. You shrugged, feigning indifference, though the weight of his gaze made your skin prickle.

“I’ve decided I’m going to the wedding with you,” he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your mug to the counter.

“You decided? I thought you didn’t want to go with me.”

“I don’t,” he said. His fingers brushed the edge of your laptop, tracing a line along it.

“But you’re still here,” you said, your voice laced with suspicion.

Frankie exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly.

“I’ll help you… if you help me.”

“If I help you? With what? Don’t tell me you’re finally going to therapy,” you blurted out, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Frankie straightened in his seat, his back stiffening like you’d just landed a verbal jab. For a moment, it looked like he might get up and leave—walk out and never look back. But instead, he stayed. He clenched his jaw, his eyes locking on yours with a determined, almost defiant look.

“I had dinner with my family tonight,” he began, his voice measured but tense. “With my mom and two of my sisters—”

“Is that why you look like that?” you interrupted, tilting your head.

“What?”

“Like you finally took a bath,” you said, your smirk widening.

Frankie exhaled sharply, his patience visibly fraying. “Can you shut up and listen to me for a second? I’ll be brief.”

You held up a hand as if to say, Fine, go on.

“They’re nice, my family, but they won’t leave me alone,” he said, his tone growing more frustrated. “All through dinner, they kept asking me these awkward questions, trying to convince me to go on these dates they’ve been setting up with their friends’ daughters or coworkers or whoever.”

Your smile widened, thoroughly amused. “Why? Why don’t you just go? Come to think of it—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “I already agreed once, and it was a disaster. I’m not doing it again. And I’m not about to get into that with you.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back slightly. “Because I’m not interested.”

Frankie sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“Every time I see them—for over a year now—it’s the same thing. They won’t leave me alone. And look, I get it. They’re trying to be helpful. But I’ve had enough.”

Your curiosity piqued at that. “What happened a year ago? Why?”

Frankie’s face tightened, his upper lip curling slightly as if the question had caught him off guard.

He frowned, his brows drawing together, before finally muttering, “That doesn’t matter.”

The dodge only made you more curious, but you let it go, watching as he leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“The point is,” he continued, “I got fed up. So tonight, when they started in on me again, I told them to back off. That I didn’t need them setting me up on dates because… because I already have a girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, their weight sinking in.

Oh.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyebrows lifted just enough to show your surprise, though you tried to mask it.

Frankie shifted in his seat, his gaze falling to his hand resting on his knee. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible motion, as though he was trying to block out whatever he feared you might say next.  

“Funny,” you said, your voice light with mockery. “And your mother believed you?”  

When he looked up at you, his expression darkened. The amused smile playing on your lips ignited a flash of irritation in his eyes. You looked entirely too entertained by the situation, and it made him bristle.  

“Hardly,” he admitted, his tone sharp. “I don’t even think I convinced her. That’s why I need your help.”  

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, as though creating space from whatever absurdity was about to come out of his mouth.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”  

Frankie nodded once, curtly. “My mom’s birthday is in a few days. She’s turning sixty. She’s having this big nice party, and she told me she wants to meet my girlfriend then.”  

You crossed your arms, still trying to gauge whether or not this was some elaborate joke.

“When’s the party?”  

“Next Saturday.”  

Your eyebrows shot up, and your lips parted in disbelief.

“Francisco,” you grumbled, the word low and heavy. “That’s in three days.”  

“I know,” he muttered, matching your tone. His jaw tightened like he was already regretting the entire conversation.  

“And what did you tell her?” you demanded. “What did you say when she asked?”  

Frankie’s hand moved to the counter, his fingers drumming once before he let them still.

He hesitated, and then, in a resigned voice, said, “I told her yes. That I’d bring my girlfriend to her birthday.” He paused, meeting your gaze. “So she’d finally leave me alone.”  

You pushed back from the stool, standing in one swift, exasperated motion. Your hands flew to your hips, your whole body radiating irritation as you glared at him.  

“Oh, so you just assumed I’d help you, didn’t you?” you snapped, your voice loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “What if I said no?”  

“I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Frankie said, meeting your anger with calm certainty.  

You let out an incredulous laugh, your head tilting back briefly before you fixed him with a sharp look.

“My God, what’s wrong with you? You don’t know what I’m thinking.”  

He didn’t flinch, though you could see his patience thinning in the slight twitch of his brow.

“I know you well enough to know you’ll say yes,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were stating the obvious.  

The sheer audacity of it made you want to scream.

Frankie rose from his spot, his movements deliberate and quick. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, closing the space between you with purposeful strides. He stopped in front of you, standing taller, looking down at you with an intensity that was hard to ignore.  

“I know you want to go to the wedding,” he said, his voice firm. “I know you asked me to go with you, and you were persistent. And anyway, I think you owe me.”  

You blinked, incredulous, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself.

“I owe you?”  

Frankie’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he took a small step closer.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Harry was because I decided to help you. I played along. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve exposed you in front of him and his fiancée. I could’ve made it worse.”  

“Thank you so much, Francisco, you're a fucking angel,” you spat, your tone thick with sarcasm, though the incredulous smile on your face betrayed how absurd it all felt. “What do you want me to do? Give you a hero of the century award?”  

Frankie’s expression didn’t waver; he was dead serious. “No. Come with me to my mom’s birthday and we’re even.”  

You froze for a moment, processing his words, the sheer audacity of them making your heart skip a beat. This was beyond ridiculous.  

"You're fucking crazy! Are you serious?" you demanded, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. "It’s not even close. Harry’s my ex something, nothing more. And you’re asking me to go with you to a family event, full of your relatives, and you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of all of them?”  

Frankie’s eyes flicked upwards, his impatience seeping into his expression. He rolled his eyes.  

“It’s not like we’re getting married,” he said, dismissive, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a girlfriend to a family thing. What are you, fifteen?”  

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “I don’t know, by my standards, introducing a girlfriend to your family seems like a pretty serious thing.”  

Frankie exhaled through his nose, clearly growing more insistent. He looked at you with unwavering intensity, his gaze now pointed, as if trying to break through the walls you were building between you and this ridiculous proposition.  

“I’ll take care of that,” he said, his voice steady but with a finality that made it clear he wasn’t backing down.

You stood there for a moment, the room stretching in a strange, suspended silence. You weighed his words in your mind, the absurdity of the situation tangled with a strange sense of reluctant curiosity.  

“Are you really going to accompany me to the wedding?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended, the question slipping out like something you hadn’t meant to say aloud.  

Frankie nodded, a reassuring, almost teasing gesture, as though he was certain he had already won.

“I’ll help you catch the bouquet and everything,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling in a grin that almost made you want to punch him.  

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your voice edged with irritation.  

“And yet, here you are, still going with me to that wedding.”  

Frustration rose in your chest, pooling in your throat like heat. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the rush of emotion that threatened to spill over. How utterly insolent. How impossible.  

“Fine,” you finally spat out, barely containing the anger simmering beneath your words. “I’ll help you. But you’d better make my time count, Francisco.”  

He flashed a half-smile, the kind of smug, self-satisfied smirk that made your fingers itch to slap him. You wanted to say something else—something cutting, something that would make him regret this entire conversation. But you couldn’t.  

Instead, Frankie reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a couple of times before handing it to you.

“Give me your number.”  

You took the phone from him with a swift, almost startled motion, your fingers brushing against his as you punched in your number. The action felt mechanical, as if you were moving through a script you didn’t want to follow. When you handed it back to him, you watched him tap the screen, adding you to his contacts with deliberate motions. His fingers moved quickly, but you couldn’t catch the name he gave you. It was probably something ridiculous, something that made you cringe even without knowing it.

He didn’t say anything, just slid the phone back into his pocket, and turned to head for the door. But before he reached it, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes meeting yours once more.  

“I’ll text you,” he said abruptly, almost as if it were a last-minute afterthought.  

And then, without waiting for a response, he opened the door and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet stairs. You stood there, still staring at the empty doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air long after he was gone.

With one click, you confirmed your attendance.

beautiful divider by @saradika-graphics 💗

tags: @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (a few of the tags aren't working, idk why, fix it tumblr!!!!)

[cheoliedollie]

kiss attack! svt: reactions ♡

☆ ~ OT13

genre: boyfriends svt | sudden kisses | lots of kiss (cheek, nose, lips...)

note by marie: kiss, kiss, kiss ( might be grammar mistakes, srry for that :( ) ♡ as always, hope you guys like it!

s.coups ♡

~ For me, S. Coups would be a guy who gets scared at first, but not so much that he jumps, but rather closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, right after you give him a light kiss on the cheek. He'd put his arm around your shoulders and kiss you back...even harder. To him, you were the most beautiful and precious thing in the world.

jeonghan ♡

~ Jeonghan would tease you until he got something out of you and would wait anxiously for you to freak out and come running to him. But as soon as you, out of the blue, started kissing the top of his head every time he started making a scene, he really understood when his colleagues say they “melt” when their partners kiss them out of the blue.

joshua ♡

~ If you want to be surprised, dating Joshua is the way to go. He knows how to cheer you up even down to the smallest detail and you wanted to do the same for him. So, while watching a movie on TV, you decided to attack him with kisses. At first, Joshua was startled, but once he understood what was happening, he just laughed with you and returned the kisses.

jun ♡

~ Jun was the definition of cuteness, and that was a fact. But it was the boy who always initiated kisses and physical touches, but when you did, after a fit of cuteness generated by him following a computer game, Jun could only laugh and tell all the boys how amazing his girlfriend was.

hoshi ♡

~ Staying at Hoshi's parents' house limited contact between the two of you, even more so because even though you were adults and had been dating for years, his parents put you up in his older sister's room. But nothing stopped you from surprising the boy in his room in the middle of the night, just for a quick “goodnight” kiss and then leaving right after. That certainly left the boy with red cheeks and smiling all the way to sleep.

wonwoo ♡

~ The time Wonwoo spent in the games room was much longer than the time you spent together… almost every time. It didn't really bother you, after all, your boyfriend needed a break from his exhausting schedule. So every 20 minutes, or whenever you felt it was time, you'd run into the room where the man was and leave a kiss on his shoulder. It was a simple thing, no big deal… but when you left the room, Wonwoo would caress the spot and smile as he did.

woozi ♡

~ Woozi spent most of his time in the studio and you proudly accompanied him every day, listening to the songs and even giving him suggestions. And if you think that the moments of affection and love are left out… you're wrong! Whenever he could, Woozi would take a step away from the computer, pat his lap three times and ask you to sit there. You did it with pleasure, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him and rubbing your nose against his. For Woozi, this was his favorite part of the day.

dk ♡

~ Dokyeom would scream to be honest. After the little kiss on the forehead while he was reading, he'd look at you, with those sparkling eyes of his, and smile big, asking for more of where that's coming from. Asking for more kisses, hugs, cuddles… asking for everything he should receive. And if you don't… get ready for another Lee Seokmin rambling session.

mingyu ♡

~ Cooking and giving back hugs is a MUST in a relationship with Mingyu! But imagine that specific scene with me...You and Mingu, together in the kitchen, preparing the breakfast after one incredible night together. Your arms involve his waist and suddenly your lips touch his back. He would be SO shocked. Would turn immediately back and try to kiss you back, eventually forgetting about the food on the stove...

the8 ♡

~ The8 wouldn't be the type for too much pda but I think he would be one of the guys who likes sudden kisses the most! Just imagine his little smile after a sudden kiss while he is meditating in the living room. He would try not to show but he is internally screaming.

seungkwan ♡

~ Yk that video of Seungkwan trying to bite/kiss Hoshi? He would try to do that often to you and would get upset when you don't reciprocate it. But one day, he came back after a long tour you attacked him with kisses, love bites, and tight hugs. He fr became the happiest man in the whole world, even got surprised at first, but wouldn't stop talking about it after.

vernon ♡

~ "Wth are u doing babe?" Vernon would be like that at first...but when you say that you're trying to do a TikTok challenge like "kissing your boyfriend and see what happens" he would melt and be like "yes I'm your boyfriend pls do that to me whenever you want"

dino ♡

~ He would find it so cute when you guys are at home. You know that cozy vibes? He laughs as you shower him with kisses and of course, gives you triple back. But please, don't do that in front of Dino's friends. The way they would tease him for the rest of the week, month, even the year...the poor boy won't have peace.

[prinzrupprecht]

When someone else gives you gifts

Featuring: Okita, Sasaki, Loki, and Anubis ( part 3 )

I’m doing young Sasaki instead of 60 year old dilf Sasaki. For those that don’t know who Tatsunosuke was. He is an actual character in chapter 5 Chiruran.

Read part 1 and 2 for the other characters

TW: some possessive tendencies, and cute/fluff moments and hurt/comfort

Okita

Everyone from Kondo’s dojo always teased how Souji liked you even though he denied it. A part of you hoped that he does like you more than a friend. Deep down it always hurt hearing how he always said you two were just friends.

You decided to visit Tatsunosuke who was a sick young boy dying from a fatal lung disease. He reminded you of Souji a lot and he was nice to you. He was the son of a high-ranking samurai at the military centre. He was too far gone for any treatment to work. “Here, you shouldn’t move much.” You went to hand him a mug of herbal tea.

“I don’t think I’ll be here much longer,” he was breathing heavily and his condition looked to be worse than the last time you saw him. You didn’t say anything and thought back how he never looked down on you for being a part of another dojo.

He went to grab his wakizashi and looked down at it. The scabbard was red and the guard was silver. “I want you to have it and remember me when I’m no longer here.” He put it in your hands. It was painful but you silently accepted it. This might be the last you see him.

Tatsunosuke was like a younger brother to you but the others from Kondo’s dojo thought you were dating him which was embarrassing sometimes. Souji on the other hand never said anything about your visits with the dying boy. As you forbid your farewell with him and left to return back to the Shieikan dojo. You saw a few of the kids playing outside. “Where have you been?” A voice asked you from behind.

“Hi to you as well?” You saw how he looked irritated while giving you a murderous stare. You avoided the question. Souji knew but wanted you to be honest. Did you like Tatsunosuke? Were you seeing him as if you two were dating? What pissed him off more was the unknown wakizashi you were holding. It looked oddly familiar as if Souji hadn’t studied the boy you liked hanging out with.

“No need to give me that look, Souji-san. You know where I was at. Besides, where are those fan girls that normally come around here?” You weren’t making the situation better.

“They don’t mean anything to me unlike what he means to you,” he muttered while his gaze met with the ground. You wanted to say something else. You always found comfort with Souji more but Tatsunosuke was dying and didn’t have many friends close to him. He tried to move past you to go back inside the dojo and probably avoid you for the rest of the week.

“Souji wait!” you called out to him. He stopped and waited for you to say something without turning his head to look at you.

“He… he doesn’t mean as much to me as you do. He’s dying and doesn’t have much time left to live.” You wanted to grab ahold of his sleeve but the wakizashi gift still irked him. He would have to give you something better for you to protect yourself. Was he acting jealous over this boy? He met him once or twice and beat him without trying in practice training.

Souji unexpectedly turned his head and smiled. “It’s fine, I would get you something better for you to protect yourself. Maybe me perhaps?” Was this his awful way of flirting with you? Huh? Him protect you? That doesn’t sound too bad.

Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around him accepting that offer. “How about we put a label on us?” It was about time you two would stop denying it around the others and are official and he’d be your only gift.

Sasaki

During the closing years of the Sengoku period, you had met some interesting people and one in particular caught your attention. Sasaki Kojiro. He was a bit skinny but his determination to keep fighting had made you curious about this young man.

You were just some odd woman training in the same dojo as him. It was Toda’s dojo and it was owned by Seigen. You saw him enter the dojo late like usual and took a smacking by the owner’s nephew like usual. “Sasaki-san, you should take this dojo seriously if you want to get stronger,” you light-heartedly sighed.

You and him sparred a bit but he normally gave up and said you were stronger than him. It made you wonder if you were strong or if he was just weak. You saw how he sparred with Kagekatsu numerous of times and forfeits the matches normally. “Sasaki-san, why don’t you actually try and put in your all?” You pouted but he awkwardly laughed and said there was no point because if he were to fight you a hundred times you would still beat him. Huh?!

Sasaki was always one to follow you around like a lost puppy in the dojo which was cute and you admired that side of him. He wanted to get better but his confidence wasn’t there. His training lacked so you were certain he was either going to be kicked from the dojo or he would train elsewhere. You wanted him to stay and not slack off. You would help him if he would take your help but he doesn’t want it. He said it numerous of times.

After a few weeks had gone by of not seeing Sasaki you were growing more and more upset. Did he already quit? Give up with the sword? One of the members of the dojo gave you a kimono robe and said it was a gift for your hard work. The kimono was patterned and made with silk and not cloth. You had no idea whether to accept it but it was better than what you normally wore. Short baggy pants and shirts with no sleeves.

You had left the dojo to see if you could find Sasaki. You were worried someone could’ve killed him with the time he was gone. Yet after some time wandering the woods, you heard ruffling from a few leaves and saw a rabbit. Then what surprised you was Sasaki jumping to catch it from behind. “Wh—what the hell?! What are you doing?” You were furious how he was turning into some animal.

“Haha, what are you doing here? I was training,” he scratched the back of his head. You sighed and sat down on a fallen log.

“Sasaki-san, I was worried you were killed from the missing weeks you stopped coming back.” You mumbled and the truth was you didn’t want him to disappear from your life.

“I would… eventually return when I feel like it. Besides what is this? I have never seen you wear something like this before,” he walked up to you and touched the sleeve of the robe.

“Someone from the dojo gave it to me for my hard work. I don’t feel like I deserve it though, and you look like you need new clothes eventually.” You scolded him for always getting dirty.

“Oh well, I actually wanted to get you something… nicer. I guess someone else beat me to it.” Sasaki was giving up already? Your left eye twitched.

“There’s no limit to who can give me things. How about I take you somewhere to eat properly that isn’t raw bunnies and snakes?” You stood up and grabbed the front of his kimono. Sasaki admired how you were persistent and wanted to check up on him when no one else has.

“I don’t eat them raw… I still cook the meat.” He raised his hands up in defence.

“Agh, never mind. Let’s go somewhere and this time I’ll watch over you.” He didn’t say anything after that but a part of him was happy and he would prove to you one day that he would take care of you better than anyone else.

Loki

You were incredibly close to Loki and had long accepted him for who he was. His tricks never worked on you and you can easily tell if he shape-shifts into someone else. He wasn’t that unpredictable. You could tell he had a troubled past that he wouldn’t tell anyone, not even you.

As the two of you resided in the same Asgard palace, Loki liked to follow you around even if he was disguised as small animals that would not be in your peripheral sight. He couldn’t help but grow irritated by how some of the guards would joke with you and talk so freely around you.

One of the guards gave you a ring and this made Loki snap on the inside. This guard— was he proposing to you?! He didn’t want to out himself that he was spying on you or else this could strain your friendship. He wanted to kill the guard for trying to steal you from him.

He found you alone in the library reading and this was the time to ask you if you feel the same way as he did for you. Love? He couldn’t deny how utterly in love he was with you even if it was obnoxious or just infatuation.

You heard him enter the room and turned your head. “Loki? What are you doing?” Your calm voice eased his anger from what he saw earlier. Confusion was written on his face. You weren’t wearing the ring?

“Ya I— I was bored and wanted to see you!” He tried to give you one of his not-so-innocent smiles. He was hiding something and you knew it.

“What is it?” Your expression grew more serious and Loki grabbed your shoulders.

“It’s just— I want us to be more than what we are now." you couldn’t deny how you had never seen this desperate side of him. Was he playing with you?

“Don’t play with my feelings, Loki. Whatever this trick is—"

“I’m not playing any trick! I swear— I swear I wanted to kill that guard from earlier who tried to propose to you.” What?!

“You admitted to spying on me? And Balder wasn’t proposing to me, you idiot. It was one of those rings that can open portals for fast transportation.” You had no idea why Loki was so upset but he looked a bit more at ease. So he might’ve been telling the truth.

“So— sorry, I assumed too quick…” he was embarrassed but now you know how he feels when he’s around you.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “You shouldn’t have hidden your feelings from me like how you hide yourself in different forms,” you smiled genuinely. Loki was frozen in place but reciprocated your comfort by keeping you in his arms. It was better than feeling as he did before assuming others wanted you just as badly as he did.

“How about I make you mine completely?” he tilted your chin up and gave you a smug look as if he was hinting at something else.

“We can take it slow, no need to rush things." you lifted the palm of your hand to touch his cheek. Even though he frowned at your words, he still had you at the end of the day.

Anubis

You were his, and he made sure everyone knew that. As you resided in the Aaru, the heavenly paradise for the Egyptian pantheon. Some of the other Egyptian gods didn’t like messing with the hyper-energetic god of funerals. He was strong and devoted to being your loyal guardian and companion.

He expresses his feelings a lot and doesn’t hide things from you. Something about him made you more drawn to the god. He saw something in you that even you couldn’t see yourself. Were you as perfect as he always tells you?

You didn’t believe it. As some moments passed, you found Bastet and Hathor whispering to each other in the main hall. They stopped and saw you staring at them. Bastet snickered and called you a pet. “I uhm… was looking for lord Ra—" you were interrupted.

“He’s not looking for you nor cares what you want. Tell me what it is and if it’s important I’ll relay the message to him.” Hathor stared down at you as she had her arms crossed. Bastet smirked and you knew in the back of your head that these two never liked you.

“Sorry.. it’s not important.” You lied as it wasn’t any use to talk to them. You needed to tell Ra that Osiris left the Aaru without permission. You went to leave but Bastet spoke up.

“What does my nephew see in you? Is it your pretty eyes? Face? Hair? Hmm… maybe something else? Are you two fu—"

“No—! It’s none of that. I— I don’t know exactly. We’re good friends! That’s all… I think.” You raised your hands up but Bastet wasn’t done interrogating you. Hathor pulled her back and told her there was no reason to start a fight.

Good friends? Bastet heard Anubis call you his consort on numerous occasions. Even Osiris and Set disapprove of his behaviours and obsession with you. Yet you called him a close friend? Or were you embarrassed?

“Here take this and think of it as a small courtesy thing, and go level your head a bit. Sorry about my sister.” Hathor passed you a bottle of red wine, but the worst thing was, that you had never drank before. Only higher authority gods were allowed to. You were just a simple deity of the pantheon. It was no wonder no one approves of you around here.

You walked back to your corridors with a frown on your face. Were the other gods right? You were unworthy of Anubis’s attention? It brought you discomfort for some reason and the fact he says he loves you a lot without thinking made you believe that he knew what the emotion was. Yet you wondered if you feel the same back? Some of the women and maids would try to get his attention but he acts oblivious to their advances.

You decided you wouldn’t drink since it wasn’t your thing. Anubis was lying on the bed in your room. “Why are you in my room?” You put the bottle on one of the stands in the corner. You didn’t expect him to be waiting for you, well it’s not the first time.

“I really really wanted to wait for you. I couldn’t find you so I decided to wait here instead.” He jumped off the bed like an excited animal. You couldn’t help but blush a bit at his excitement.

“Well, I ran into your aunts in the hall and Hathor gifted me this.” You picked up the bottle to show him and he stuck out his tongue in disgust. He was exaggerating. You quickly chuckled. You can tell he hated the taste of alcohol.

“Yuck yuck yuck! I should tell them to not give you this stuff!” He pouted but you sat on the bed and had already decided that you weren’t going to drink— at least not try it in front of him. Anubis looked unhappy and you had walked over to him and asked him if he was upset that they tried to get you drunk. He looked a bit flustered but he wasn’t entirely stupid. Part of the reason was that he doesn’t like others giving things to you. The wine could’ve had poison in it.

“It’s nothing! It’s nothing, let’s just cuddle!” He pulled you down on the mattress and was suffocating you with his arms squeezing around your body.

He soon forgotten why he was mad since you were with him in his arms. His soon-to-be wife for sure.

Note: this is the end of part 3! I saw a request in my box for Valkyries and it intrigued me that if I do a part 4, I’ll probably do side characters and Valkyries but they’ll probably be shorter than normal.

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 4)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: so much time has passed since you last saw each other. will old feelings come up again once you two find each other again?

warnings: HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, this is so against canon its insane, NSFW (we did it guys we're finally here), switch!reader and switch!miguel, blood mention, fang and claws play, p in v unprotected, cumplay, angsty (i couldnt help it), it goes, angst, smut, and then angsty fluff at the end youre welcome

word count: 3.2k

notes: for some reason, it didn't let me tag as many people who wanted to be on the taglist, so if i didn't end up tagging you for the final part, sorry idk what went wrong

also forgive me i was listening to boygenius while writing the parts leading up to the smut so it might get a little angsty there (i cant help it) (miguel and y/n are so bite the hand and cool about it core)

but then i balanced it out by listening to frank ocean (pyramids specifically) while writing the smut so you're welcome

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Three years had passed. Three years since you finally found Miles, defeated The Spot, and caused the collapse of the Spider Society. Everyone had gone back to their separate dimensions, but were able to still visit each other with their still working portal watches. Miles and Gwen specifically were very happy. Peter B. went back home to live with MJ and Mayday, sending you frequent pictures of Mayday to keep you updates. You were different. You didn’t return to your home world. You didn’t necessarily have anyone to return to per se. Instead, you decided to hop between dimensions, seeing what crime there was to fight in cities that didn’t have anyone to protect it. It was enough to keep you occupied, and as long as your watch still worked, you had the option to stop if you wanted to. Life was nice. You finally had found peace.

But something felt off. Something thudding in the back of your head. Because even though you had been at peace for three years, it had also been three years since you saw him. You had seen him during the final showdown between all of Spider Society, but your team had managed to keep you two apart, due to fear for your safety. After the fight was over, you two had made eye contact with each other a couple of times, but never approached each other. If you were being honest, you were still scared of him at that point, even seeing him tied up there on the floor waiting for someone to deal with him. 

It took a while for your gashes to heal, the ones on your back taking much longer to turn into scars than the ones on your tricep and thigh. The marks on your body were frequent reminders of him and the damage he’s caused to your life. Part of you hated him for it. But most of you just missed him. Unlike Jess, who sent you pictures of her baby every now and then, neither of you had reached out to the other. It was crazy how five years of shared history can be thrown to the ground so quickly.

Right now, you were sitting on the railing of your apartment balcony. For the past month or so, you decided to park it in Earth-3819. There wasn’t much crime going on there, so it was a nice place to stop when you needed a break. Your feet dangled off the edge of the railing, as you looked out to see the sunset on the skyline. The wind blew faintly at your face, causing strands of hair to fall out of your high bun. You had been thinking more about him recently, wondering if he was feeling the same way you were. 

Almost as if you manifested it, you heard the sliding glass door from your bedroom slide open. Startled, you quickly turned around, ready just in case it was an attacker.

It was much worse than an attacker. 

You mouth laid agape as his massive shadow covered your smaller body. Feelings that laid dormant for the past three years suddenly erupting in your stomach. You looked up to the roof of your building as a signal to meet you up there, as you attached a web to the top and swung up there.

Once you were both at the top, you faced your back to him to take time to catch your breath. Your emotions were all over the place right now. “You’re really hard to find, you know,” he said trying to break the silence. You wanted to throw up. As much as you hoped this moment would come, you never realized how unprepared you would be if it ever did. You couldn’t bare to look at him right now, knowing you would lose control of yourself if you did. “You look…good.” How would he know, he only saw your face for a second before you bolted off. You both stood there, the wind growing louder and louder with each second you both stayed silent. 

All of your senses came to a freeze once you felt his hand place itself on your shoulder, causing a flinch from you. “I wanted to find you again, mi vida,” he said in that rich, deep, smooth tone of his that drives you crazy. You could tell he was getting closer when you felt the hairs on your neck stand up from him breathing on them. “I missed you, and I was hoping we could pick up where we left off,” he said into the crook of your neck and began to plant kisses there. You broke free from his grasp by the third kiss he left. “No no no no no, no we can’t. It’s not that simple Miguel,” you said, pinching your bridge and sighing. There's no way he could've thought it would be this easy. He's not this stupid….is he?

“Listen amor, I’m sorry for everything that happened. But the past is the past.” He walked closer to you. “And I want my future with you.” He was up against you again. This time instead of your shoulder, he dragged his finger up and down your back in an almost hypnotic motion. God, you wanted him so bad, you wanted it to be this simple. That he can just apologize and everything could be okay. But you were reminded it couldn't be that way once his finger hit a pressure point in your scar. You swatted your hands in the air and walked away from him again. “No Miguel, that's not how this works. You can just do the things you've done to me and just say sorry and expect it to fix everything. You're not a child.” 

Once you turned around to face him, you saw him standing there like a lost puppy. You just wish he could see what you were talking about. “Don't act like you didn't do horrible things then too. I saw what you did to Jess.” “Don't turn this onto me Miguel. This is about you.” You walked up to him and pressed your finger into his chest. “This is about you, and the horrible things you've done to me! I can't even take a shower anymore without looking at myself in the mirror and seeing your damage!” You lifted up your shirt sleeve. “You did this! This was all you!” Miguel looks down at you with sympathetic eyes as your eyes began to well up. 

“And you can’t just barge in on this life I’ve made for myself and ask for me back because I won't go with you!” You were fully crying at this point, desperately trying to get your words out between sobs and lightly punching at Miguel's chest while he just stared at you. “Because I hate you Miguel! I hate you, okay!” You couldn't manage to talk anymore, overcome with the emotions he caused you to feel. You rested your head on his chest as you continued to sob. He wrapped his arms around you, causing you to do the same to him immediately. You sat there crying into his arms for about a minute, until he lifted up your chin with his finger.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you mi princesa. I’m so sorry. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Overtaken by emotion, you grab his face and crash your lips into his. Almost instinctively, his hands find a home onto your hips. You pull away for a second. “Just stop talking already,” you say breathlessly. He rushes to connect the two of your lips again, already going as far as to slip his tongue in between your lips. He’s so passionate about everything he does. His hands hold a tight grip on your body as his tongue explores your mouth. Almost like he’s hungry for you. No, not hungry. Starving. Famished. Three years apart was too much for him to stand without you by his side or in his bed. He needed you desperately. Like his life depended on if he was going to be able to fuck you into your bed tonight or not. 

He let out moans as your hands ran through and tugged on his hair. But as soon as his claws came out and dug into your hips, you pulled your mouth off of his, a string of saliva still connecting you two. “No claws Miguel. Bring them out again, and its over okay.” You still weren’t mentally over his attack against you. He nods. “Of course, baby.” With that said, you let go of him to walk over to the edge of the building. Once your at the edge, you signal him over. He follows, almost as if he’s under some spell. You attach one of your webs to your balcony railing below and use it as a guide to fall down to it. You land on your balcony, Miguel following close behind as you open the sliding door to your bedroom.

After you close the door and blinds, you turn to find Miguel almost hovering over you. He looked like some kind of lost dog the way he kept following you around, begging for more of you. You gently kiss him and guide him over to your bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and begins to pull your hoodie off your head as you help him take off his suit. Once your sweatpants are off as well, you gently push him onto his back on your bed. Goosebumps form all over your body, partially from exposure to the cold air in your room, and partially from seeing him like this underneath you again. Finally, you take his already hard cock, and slide it into your hole, causing a rough groan out of him as you begin to rock on his hips.

You take things nice and slow while you’re in control, knowing the moment you get sloppy he’ll start to take over for you. You kissed down his neck and collarbone as you rode him, with him gripping hard at your back and your hips. “Nng, m-missed you s-so much amor,” he groaned out. “Tan hermosa.” You begin to speed your thrusting, tugging at his hair to get strained noises out of him. His hands make their way up to your back, digging into your skin. But your quick to rip his hands out of your back and pin them above his head once his talons come out again, into your back this time. You also take your lips off of his and stop your thrusting.

Miguel searched your face for some kind of explanation to the sudden stop, to find you panting and nearly frozen still. You’re taken back to that fight, a result from his claws finding a way into your scars. You’re pulled back to reality by Miguel’s voice. “Amor, que paso?” he asks with concern. You quickly wipe the sweat off your face and look into his beautiful crimson eyes. You wanted to forget the pain he caused you all those years ago, but unfortunately you couldn’t. But, you were willing to forgive him though. “Nothing Miggy,” you say gently, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. He tries to move his hands back onto you, but finds his hands still trapped to the headboard. He looks at you confused. “What did I say about the claws, Miguel.” 

“Ay, baby you know its hard for me to control them around you,” he says, slightly annoyed, driven by the need to touch you again. “Well you’re going to need to try to okay? For now though, you’re going to stay like this.” His face drops, and he makes a sound almost like a whine. “Ay coño, lo siento péro you don’t need to punish me.” You felt powerful hearing him whine and beg like this. You were denying a starving man of his woman, his source of energy. 

Arms squirmed in your hand, as you began to rock on top of him again. You made sure to not kiss him either, moving away whenever he would try to place his mouth onto yours. He whined as you picked up your speed, desperate to feel you again. “P-please, let me go cariño.” You moved your mouth down and whispered in his ear, running your finger up and down his stomach, causing him to melt under you and whimper like a madman. “Not just yet,” you whispered seductively, sending extra chills down his spine and into his stomach when you bit into his ear lobe.

Overcome with your own urge to feel him, you accidentally let go of his hands and moved yours to grab hold of each of his pecs as you planted kisses over his sternum. Suddenly, you’re overswept as Miguel is freed and takes control over the situation. “I love you amor, but you have to let me touch your,” he says in that beautiful, rich tone of his before he goes at his own pace: slamming himself into you. 

He goes much faster than you did, and you almost come there on the spot as he nearly breaks your bed with his ferocity. You grip onto his enormous triceps for leverage as you let out a series of incoherent moans. “You like that, huh?” he pants out. You shove your lips onto his to get him to stop talking. “I-if you’re gonna do this, n-ngh, you’re gonna have to s-hh-ut up,” you manage to get out in between your almost inhumane sounds. He nods and shoves his tongue into your mouth, exploring the insides of your cheeks while his tip slams into your walls, causing that white heat to begin to build up in your stomach.

His hands swarm across your body, making up for lost time before, and eventually land on your breasts as he begins to palm at them. Just as you thought he couldn’t arouse you any more than he already has, he moves his mouth along your jawline, down to your neck, and begins to mark it with kisses and slight sucking. “I-I missed you too, Miggy.” 

That nickname you had for him drove him crazy. So crazy in fact, his next move was to drive his fangs into your neck, making sure to not let his poison seep into your neck. He presses his lips and sucks on the skin on your neck while sinking his fangs deeper into you. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, as you held onto his broad shoulders while he basically slammed you into the bed. “Oh Miguel,” you moaned out. He nodded, not able to speak, due to his fangs still being attached to your neck. You could tell he was getting close too with how sloppy his pace was getting. 

You’re washed over with bliss when the heat in your stomach finally takes over the rest of your body, almost clawing at Miguel while you come. His hands put more pressure on your breasts as he comes as well, moaning into the softness of your neck. Once you two have both finished, he slowly pulls his teeth out of your neck, and licks up the metallic liquid with his warm, delicate tongue. He slowly pulls his cock out of the sweetness of your cunt and rolls over to lay next to you on the bed, dragging his fingers across your pussy, taking the cum his fingers picked up and putting it in his mouth.

He plants a kiss onto your forehead before saying, “One second, princesa, I’ll be right back,” as he got up to go to the bathroom. He must have been in there for about 10 minutes before coming back into your room and reaching out his hand for yours. You take his hand as he leads you out of bed, reminded of how naked you are when you reveal yourself from the sheets.

He leads you into the bathroom to see that hes drawn a bath for the two of you. You blush slightly at the gesture, as he gets in first and leads you in. The touch of the water numbs your body slightly with the mixture of the cold room to the hot bath water. You almost melt as you sink in, laying your back against Miguel’s chest as he wraps his arms around your body. You could fall asleep right here, mixed between the comfort of the bath water, and Miguel’s body finally against yours again. The bathtub was kind of small, so his body was taking up most of the space, causing him to basically engulf you. 

You were surrounded in him, his lips almost attached to the nape of your nack, his arms consuming your upper half, and his legs intwining with your lower half. He wiggles slightly to reach the soap, puts it in the water to wet it, and lathers it onto your body. First, he washes your arms, rubbing the soap back and forth over your arm hairs, and even under your armpits. Next, he moves to wash your chest. He takes the soap and moves it over your breasts and your underboob, causing you to move in closer to him. His response is to peck kisses into the crook of your neck, getting little giggles out of you. You stop giggling though after he stops kissing you and stays still for a second. 

You wait in silence for him to do something. “...Miggy…you okay?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything. You turn your head slightly to see him. Out of your peripherals, you see him staring solemnly at your back. He’s finally seen them. The four almost perfectly placed scars warping across your back. They were huge. And he knows they’re from him. You turned your head back to the front and dug it in between your knees, pushing out your back even more. Miguel delicately traced his fingers over them, as you waited curled up for him to say something. “I’m sorry,” is all he can manage to weakly push out. 

You decide to turn your body around to face him, splashing water around in the cramped bathtub while doing so. His eyes are down with sadness creeping over his face. You cup his cheek with your hand and press a loving, gentle kiss onto his lips. You bring his arms over your shoulders and wrap your legs around his hips. You wanted to be engulfed by him. You were so pressed on staying mad at him for so many years that you forgot how much you loved being this close to him. You could hear his heart softly beating as you pressed your head against his chest. He soon wrapped his arms around your body, taking you into him, and dug his head into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was hiding. 

You stayed there for a moment before eventually turning back around. You laid your head in a position so you could still see his face if you looked up. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off in his arms. Your last thoughts before you slipped out of consciousness was of how perfect this was. 

You had found your home again. Moreso, he found his way to you. And this time, you were never going to let go.

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a/n: i just wanted to say thank you to everyone for sticking around during this series. i know it wasn't meant to be 4 parts and only 2 so i really appreciate everyone who stuck around for the whole thing. make sure to look out for my next thing cause i wanna start writing an enemies to lover oc x miguel thing so please go and support that once thats out. thanks guys!!!!

taglist: @jenniferdixon05207 @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @konniebon @hwanunjin @simp-nerd-16 @chucklefuvk @elwyn7 @haileybxxr @ilovemymomscooking @lansy-4 @maxi-ride @d4rno @callsign-blue @obamnas-soda @sophipet @violentlyneon @d1lf-loverrr @afro-hispwriter @kirke-is-my-name @ilovemiguelohara @lavnderluv @konniebon @msecho19 @kiamewrites

[noisydelusionlove]

Chapter 17: A Date With Soap

Pairings: poly141xOC

Warnings: military inaccuracies, Oral (F receiving, M receiving), Smut

A/N: Trying my hand at adding more of Soap’s Scottish into the fic. I’ve been reading a lot of Soap fics and realized I wasn’t really adding how his Scottish actually sounds. I don’t know if it works, so we shall see! Please put your age on your blog if you’re going to interact. I love you! Also i’m still sick AF and my son has walking pneumonia, so my house is a hot mess right now. I’m also going through hella personal shit (i.e toxic/messy divorce) so thank you to everyone who loves my story so far, it’s honestly helping my mental health so much to get back into writing <3

Aurora laughs as Johnny practically drags her outside and to a car he had snagged the keys to. The pair are silent as Johnny drives towards the mountain area of the base. After a bit, he stops on the side of the road and smiles. “We’re walkin' the rest o’ the way Bonnie.” He says as they climb out of the vehicle. Aurora follows Johnny curiously. After a while, they stop at an old watch tower. “Up ye go Lass,” Johnny says as he points up. Aurora rolls her eyes as she ascends the ladder. “Quit looking at my ass Johnny.” She teases, earning a small growl from the man climbing below her. When she reaches the top she stands up and looks around. The inside of the watchtower has been transformed it seems. There is what appears to be a sniper’s nest set up, two riffles lying side by side. There’s also a basket and a cooler sitting off to the side. Aurora turns to look at Johnny curiously. 

“I know ye used to be a sniper, and ye loved it. So I went ahead and set up some targets. Thought we’d have a wee shoot, have a chat, then dig into the lunch I packed, aye?” He says, a small blush on his cheeks. 

“Right here, Lass,” he says, patting the edge of the sniper’s nest he’s set up. The rifle lies in wait, resting against the sturdy wooden railing. Aurora raises an eyebrow, catching her breath. "You brought me up here just to shoot things, Johnny?" She says, but a smile is hinting at the corners of her lips. He flashes a grin, clearly enjoying the moment. "Aye, but it’s not just any kind o' shooting, is it? It’s your kind. Thought ye might fancy a bit o' a challenge again." He says, although there is a pink tint to his cheeks. Aurora rolls her eyes, but there's a soft smile tugging at her lips. "A challenge, huh?" She glances at the scattered targets Johnny’s set up, a mix of distant silhouettes, hanging plates, and some more difficult, smaller targets in the distance. "I haven’t picked up a rifle in a few years, Johnny. I’m a medic now." She says, a sad tone to her voice. He shrugs, his grin widening. “Ach, Lass, ye can’t forget how to shoot that well. I’ve seen ye in action in the videos in ye file. Ye’ve got the eye of an eagle.” He steps a little closer, voice dropping just low enough for her to catch the flirty edge. “And let’s be honest… ye miss this, don’t ye? The focus. The quiet before the shot.” He says as Aurora looks up, meeting his eyes.

Aurora doesn’t respond immediately, feeling the familiar pull of Johnny’s charm. His energy is contagious, his teasing playful, and if she’s being honest, she’s starting to notice how easy it is to fall into his banter. But there’s something else too, something she’s trying to ignore, but as her heat approaches it makes it so much harder to ignore. Still, the memory of being behind a sniper’s scope, that calm, focused state of mind, it’s tempting. It’s something she hasn’t experienced in years, and there’s a part of her that misses it, even if she won’t admit it out loud.“Alright, let’s see if I can still hit anything,” she says, grabbing the rifle. Her tone is light, but underneath it is a quiet determination. Johnny watches her with a smile as she sets up the rifle, her posture already perfect, the way she positions herself at the edge of the nest. He leans against the railing, his voice softening. “Ye never lost it, Lass. I’ve seen enough to know that.” His voice is low, an almost purr. 

Aurora looks down the scope, adjusting the settings with a practiced hand. She picks her first target, a metal plate about a hundred yards away. Without hesitation, she pulls the trigger. The thunk of the bullet hitting the target is quick and clean. Johnny claps. “Och, ye’re still a bonnie shot, Lass. I knew it.”Aurora lowers the rifle, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “One shot, Johnny. Don’t get too excited.”But Johnny, of course, is already beaming. “Aye, one shot, and it’s better than most folk could do in ten tries. Now go on, show me what else ye’ve got.”She takes another shot, and another, hitting each target perfectly. There’s a rhythm to it, a sense of ease and precision that comes with years of experience. Johnny watches, leaning in slightly, his gaze focused on her. He’s genuinely impressed, though he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s enjoying watching her in action.“You’re makin’ it look easy, Lass,” he says, his voice full of admiration. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about ye.”Aurora finally lowers the rifle, casting him a glance. “You think I’m that good, Johnny?”

He steps closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Aye. And ye know it too, don’t ye?” His voice dips into something softer, more intimate. “I can see it in the way ye focus. It’s like ye’re in a world o’ yer own, just ye and the target., ” He pauses, taking a half, step closer. “It’s a sight worth seein’.”Aurora chuckles, though there’s a warmth in her gaze. “You just like watching people do what they’re good at, don’t you?”Johnny grins. “Oh, Lass, don’t flatter me. I’m just watchin’ someone who’s got it all. Precision. Grace. A little fire, too.” He winks, his tone playful. “And aye, maybe I do like watchin’ ye.”She narrows her eyes, but there’s something else beneath her teasing, an acknowledgment, perhaps, of the connection they’re forming. “You’re insufferable, Johnny. But… I don’t mind it.”

Johnny’s grin widens, but he doesn’t press further. Not yet. He knows the ground he’s treading, how hesitant she’s been about the idea of diving into anything serious with him, or anyone in the team, for that matter. The pack is close, knit, and it’s clear they all share an unspoken bond, one that isn’t just about teamwork. There’s an undercurrent of something more, something that’s grown since they all started working together. He knows Aurora feels it too, but she’s been keeping her distance, unsure if she wants to jump in with both feet. Johnny’s voice softens. “Go on, Lass. Let’s see if I can keep up with ye now.”Aurora glances at him, the challenge in her eyes. “You sure about that?”He picks up the rifle with a confident grin. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

Johnny lines up his shot, adjusting his stance as he focuses on the first target, a steel plate not far from where Aurora hit hers. He breathes in, steadies his aim, and fires. The shot rings out, landing just a hair off, center from the target. Aurora watches him, a small smile curling her lips. “Not bad, Johnny.”Johnny’s eyes gleam with a playful challenge as he shoots her a glance. He takes another shot. This one’s much closer to the bullseye. “Alright, alright,” she says, teasing. “Maybe you do have some talent, Johnny.”Johnny grins, his confidence unwavering. “Don’t worry, Lass. I’m just gettin’ warmed up.”

They continue trading shots, their playful banter filling the space between the cracks of the gunfire. Aurora finds herself drawn into the rhythm of it, her heart a little lighter each time Johnny flirts or cracks a joke. He’s easy to be around, even when he’s pushing her buttons, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard to fight. The day draws on, the sky turning from the bright morning sun to the afternoon glow. At some point, the banter quiets, and there’s a moment where Johnny’s gaze lingers on her a bit longer than normal. 

Aurora’s pulse quickens, not from the shots, but from something else, something she hasn’t fully admitted to herself. She’s starting to feel it, that pull toward Johnny, and, truthfully, toward the others in the pack too. There’s a warmth, a sense of connection she hadn’t expected when she first joined. She wants to chalk it up to her heat hormones, but she wonders if it’ll still be there when her heat ends. She feels a pull to Ghost that she can’t explain. With Kyle, it’s easy, like long-lost friends. With Price, there's an edge of comfort and trust there, But with Johnny, there’s something else. Something sharper. Something she’s afraid of diving too deep into.

Johnny’s voice breaks the silence. “Ye know, Lass, ye don’t need to hold back with me. I’ve seen the way ye look at me. And I’m not the only one in the team who’s feelin’ that pull outside of just the bedroom stuff.” He says lowly. Aurora freezes for a moment, her heart skipping. She glances at him, her voice quiet. “I’m not sure what I want yet, Johnny. You know that, right?”His expression softens, but there’s no frustration, only understanding. “I know, Lass. No rush. Just… don’t think ye need to run from it.”She looks away, her breath catching in her throat. “I just want to get through my heat, and then reassess Johnny. I want to be able to think without my hormones clouding everything.” She sighs. Johnny gives a small nod before nodding towards the cooler and basket. “Fancy a bite and a wee chat about it?” He says with a smile. Aurora nods as she follows Johnny to the basket. Johnny opens the basket and takes out a blanket, sitting it on the ground before motioning for her to sit.

Aurora takes a seat on the blanket and watches as Johnny follows suit. He opens the cooler and begins pulling out sandwiches, sodas, fresh fruit, and a small cheesecake and from the basket, he pulls out potato chips. 

He hands Aurora her food before beginning to eat his own. After a few moments of silence, Johnny clears his throat. “So, have ye given any more thought to who ye're gonna pick for yer first time, then?" He says, causing Aurora to almost choke on her drink at his blunt question. She clears her throat as she looks over at him. “I am not sure honestly. Kyle thinks I should pick Ghost because he thinks that’s the most logical pick if I ever decide to take an Alpha from this pack.” She says as she stares at her drink. Johnny can’t help the smile that springs to his lips at her words. “I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t love to see ye bonded to my Alpha. I think we both ken how much I want ye to be a part of our bond, Lass. I cannae hide how much I’m lookin’ forward to finally gettin’ a hold o’ ye during yer heat." His voice is almost a low growl as he looks at her, causing Aurora’s cheeks to tint pink as his scent begins to darken, as if his mind is already conjuring up images of her under him and Ghost, which, it probably is. Aurora tries to hide her embarrassment as she smells her scent and begins to sweeten with arousal. 

Aurora lets out a small squeak as Johnny suddenly leans in, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to pull her lips in for a rough kiss. She releases a whimper when she hears Johnny growl. In seconds he’s on top of her, pushing her back to lie on the picnic blanket spread underneath them. The kiss is desperate, a clash of teeth and tongues before Johnny breaks from her lips to kiss a trail down her neck. Aurora releases a whine as Johnny sucks on her neck, surely leaving marks as he slots his hips between hers, his obvious erection grinding against her through the thin fabric of her leggings. “Ye ken what Ghost’ll do to ye, Bonnie? Ye ken how fierce he can be? Aye, he’s nae the sort to hold back, that’s for sure.” Johnny growls into her ear causing Aurora to let out a small whine. Johnny continues kissing and nipping at her neck as he grinds himself against her, his clothed erection managing to rub perfectly against her clit, causing pleasure to well up inside of her. Aurora releases a whine as her hips begin to move, grinding herself more against Johnny.

”O ye’re prolly soaked right now aren’t ye Kitten.” He growls out as he bites a little more roughly on her neck, she’s sure he’s left a mark as she releases a small moan. “Just want to cum don’t you Bonnie?” He chuckles as one hand grabs a handful of her hair forcing her to look at him. “it’s all about consent. Do ye want me to make ye cum Kitten?” He says, staring directly into her eyes. Aurora lets out a small mewl and Johnny chuckles darkly. “Nae, I need words.” He says with a playful smirk as Aurora feels tears welling up in her eyes with the need to cum. “Please, Johnny.” She whimpers. “Please what Kitten?” He purrs as she whines again. “Make me cum.” She gasps out and Johnny releases another chuckle as he lets go of her hair to move down her body. “Thought ye’d never ask.” He mumbles as he quickly pulls her leggings down, flinging them across the watchtower.

In an instant Johnny has her legs over his shoulders, his large hands engulfing her thighs as he holds them tight, pulling her pussy down until he’s face first. He licks a long stripe up the center of her folds causing her to gasp out. “O ye taste just as good as I imagined, and I was right ye’re soaked.” He hums before giving small kitten licks to her clit. Aurora’s hand flies to find purchase in his hair, eliciting a growl from Johnny as she slightly tugs, moving her hips to grind on his face. Johnny is merciless as he alternates licking and sucking on her clit, eliciting loud moans and whines as Aurora feels her pleasure building. Johnny moves one hand down to run a finger over her entrance, making her gasp slightly before he slowly pushes inside. 

“I almost forgot how tight ye are.” Johnny growls as he begins to curl, searching for that one spot, when he finds it Aurora lets out a loud moan and Johnny can’t help but growl. He continues licking at her clit as her thrusts his finger, hitting that spot every single time that has her seeing stars. When he adds a second finger Aurora is biting back a scream at the feeling. “How’s that feel Kitten?” Johnny growls. When Aurora doesn't respond he moves his mouth to deliver a sharp bite to her thigh. “Feels good, full.” She whimpers and Johnny chuckles. “If ye feel full now I don’t know how you’ll take Ghost. He might split ye in two.” Johnny growls, the image of Ghost impaling Aurora on his large cock almost enough to make him cum in his pants.

Johnny continues to suck at her clit as he thrusts his fingers at a rapid pace as Aurora’s moans grow into almost screams. “Almost there huh Kitten? I can feel it. Let’s have it, cum for me pretty girl.” He growls and with one last hard suck to her clit Aurora is screaming as she cums all over his fingers and face. Johnny slows his movements as she rides out her orgasm, smirking as he sits up and makes a show of licking his fingers clean. 

. Her cheeks are bright pink as Johnny begins pulling her leggings back up her legs. She lifts her hips to allow him to pull them up all the way. Aurora watches in shock as Johnny moves to finish eating his sandwich, his erection obvious. “You don’t expect anything?” She says quietly as Johnny shakes his head. “I know you’re going at your own pace Bonnie, it’s not the first time I've had a hard-on. It’ll go down.” He says with a smile as Aurora laughs and nods. 

She scoots closer to Johnny, leaning slightly against him as she finishes eating. “I have a question, Johnny.” She says quietly as he looks at her. “If I do decide I want Ghost to be my first. How do I even approach that with him?” She sighs as she takes a bite of her sandwich. Johnny smiles. "How 'bout ye decide, let me ken, an' I’ll handle tellin’ him." Aurora looks at him for a moment before nodding. “If I do decide. I need you to make sure he knows I don't want him to mark me, at all, not during that, not during my heat, nothing.” She says quickly and Johnny nods. "He wouldn’t do that without yer express consent anyways, Bonnie. Aye, he’s an Apex Alpha, rough around the edges, but he believes in consent. Trust me, it took months before he’d even kiss me without my express permission." He says with a smile and Aurora nods.

”I have another question.” She says as she pops a chip in her mouth. Johnny nods as he takes a bite of fruit. “So, so far, you and Kyle have both done stuff for me without expecting anything in return. Why?” She says with an eyebrow raised. Johnny chuckles as he smirks. "Honestly, Bonnie? Some o' us just enjoy seein' the other person enjoy themselves wi' what we’re doin'. It's a braw feelin' kenning ye've caused that." He says as Aurora nods.

Once they’ve finished eating Johnny smiles as he packs everything back in the basket and cooler. "Well, let’s head back. I’ll take ye back, an’ I’ll get a recruit tae come clean this up." He offers his hand and Aurora takes it as he pulls her off the ground. They climb down the ladder and head back to the car before heading back to the task force building. Johnny bids her goodbye with a kiss before heading off promising to see her at dinner.

Aurora sits on her bed as she contemplates. She was intrigued by Johnny's explanation of him and Kyle giving her pleasure without wanting anything in return. She wonders if she would feel the same way if giving one of the pack members pleasure would make her feel that sense of pride. With a bite to her lip, Aurora grabs her phone to send a text to Kyle.

Feral: Hey are you busy?

Kyle’s response is almost instant.

Gaz: Nope whats up?

Aurora sighs as she lays back on her bed as she contemplates the question she wants to ask.

Feral: At the risk of being blunt do you think John (Price) not Johnny would let me give him a blowjob?

Aurora practically throws her phone as she hits send, regretting it almost immediately. Her phone begins to ding in rapid succession. She picks it up to see Kyle’s response

Gaz: OH

Gaz: EXCUSE ME

Gaz: Do you think any man on this team would turn down getting their dick sucked by you?

Gaz: Have you lost your fucking mind

Gaz: Of course he would let you

Aurora laughs as she looks at the messages, shaking her head.

Feral: I’ve never done it before….so im nervous…but I feel like if i’m giving my virginity to Ghost (not decided) then the other Alpha deserves something

Gaz: Of course, I get that, but you dont need to feel like you have to Princess

Feral: No, I want to…I think it would be interesting to see an Alpha enjoy the pleasure I give him

Gaz: but you're nervous?

Feral: duh

Gaz: What if I’m there?

Gaz: I could talk you through it

Gaz: It is MY Alpha afterall

Feral: You just want to watch

Gaz: well, yeah

Gaz: What do you say? After dinner he always goes to his office for a cigar. We can do like the kneeling thing and ill help you ask

Feral: yes, okay, yeah

Gaz: I’m excited ;p

Feral: Dont make me regret this

Gaz: See you at dinner Princess

Aurora sighs as she sets her phone down and glances at the clock, one hour until dinner and two hours until she gives her first blowjob, no pressure right? With a sigh, she begins looking up articles on her phone, blushing as she types in ‘how to give a good blow job’, before she knows it there is a knock at her door and she stands up, opening it to a smiling Kyle. “Ready for dinner Princess?” He smirks and Aurora just shoots him a small glare. “Don’t enjoy my awkwardness too much. I still kicked your ass today.” She growls and Kyle smiles as he holds his hands up in defeat. The two head off to the mess and fill their trays, sitting with the others.

As they are eating Ghost, John, and Johnny notice that Aurora is a little fidgety. Johnny assumes it’s what happened between them earlier and shrugs it off until he sees the wide smile Kyle has on his face. Ghost looks from Aurora to Johnny, not missing the fact that he can smell Aurora all over Johnny, it doesn’t take a genius to realize something happened between the two of them. When John finishes he bids the group goodbye and heads off to his office. Once he’s gone Johnny turns to whisper to Kyle. “What's got ye smilin' so big?” And Aurora shoots Kyle a glare as he smirks.

”Our dear Omega is going to bless my Alpha with a new first tongue.” He says as Aurora growls at him. “Kyle!” She whisper yells as he starts laughing. Johnny and Kyle look at Aurora curiously and then look at Kyle. “She’s going to suck his dick, relax. I’m pretty sure we all know who’s in the running for her virginity.” He says as Aurora groans and goes to slam her head into the table, but Johnny moves quickly to place his hand on her head preventing that. “It’s alright Kitten.” He whispers, but it’s obvious he’s trying not to laugh. Once Aurora’s tray is empty Kyle smiles as he grabs her hand. They throw their trash away and head off. Once they leave Ghost turns to Johnny. “Who’s in the running for the Omega’s virginity?” He asks Johnny, apparently clueless. Johnny blinks as he stares at his mate. “O boy, be glad ye’re handsome Simon because sometimes I wonder bout ye.” He laughs as he heads off too, leaving a confused Ghost.

Aurora wrings her hands together nervously as she walks down the hall with Kyle. When he notices Kyle places a comforting hand on her back. “Calm down Princess. I can promise you Price won’t embarrass you or make you feel bad or anything okay?” He smiles, and Aurora calms slightly at his reassurance. When they arrive at John’s door Kyle knocks and waits for the gruff “come in.” from his Alpha before opening the door. When John sees Aurora and Kyle standing there together he smiles as he sits the file he had in his hands down to give them his attention. Kyle shuts the door behind them and John raises an eyebrow as he twists the lock.

”Alpha” Kyle purrs, causing John to sit up straighter as he eyes the two in front of him. “Yes, Kyle?” He says, trying to hide the growl in his voice, a natural reaction to being called by his title. Kyle smirks as he walks behind John, draping his arms across his shoulders as he leans in to whisper in his Alpha’s ear. “Our little Omega wants to do something for you it seems.” He purrs, and John’s eyes glance at Aurora as she watches the scene unfold. Her scent is unmistakably sweeter, a sign she is aroused by watching the display Kyle is putting on. “And what would our little Omega want to do for me?” John says, looking at Aurora but speaking to Kyle. “She wants yours to be the first cock she sucks, isn’t that nice of her.” Kyle purrs, smirking as a growl releases from John’s chest at his words.

”but she’s nervous, so I’m here to walk her through it. I’m going to teach her.” Kyle says as he places a small kiss on John’s neck. “Why don’t you come over here and sit on our Alpha’s lap Princess? No need to rush right into it, let’s share a few kisses first.” Kyle smiles as he reaches over John to hold a hand out to Aurora. After a moment Aurora slowly begins to move, coming to a stop in front of John nervously. “Come on sweetheart. I won’t bite.” John growls as he taps his lap, indicating for Aurora to sit on his lap. Aurora bites her lip as she slowly swings a leg over and settles down, straddling John’s lap in his desk chair. John growls as he feels Aurora slightly grinding against his already hard length, held captive by his cargo pants.

Kyle hums in approval as he looks between his Alpha and the much smaller Omega. “Be gentle with her.” Kyle purrs as he watches John reach a hand up to tangle in Aurora’s hair to pull her into a slow and sensual kiss. Aurora releases a whimper at the intensity of the kiss, her hips moving naturally to grind against the bulge she feels under her hips. John groans as he grabs her hips, stilling her movements as he continues to kiss her. Kyle smiles as he leans against John’s shoulder watching the two makeout up close. John’s other hand slowly moves p to grasp Aurora’s breast through her t-shirt and sports bra. Aurora lets out a gasp and John takes that moment to slip his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. He releases a growl as his tongue touches hers. After a moment John pulls back, staring at Aurora with an intense look she’s never seen in his eyes before.

”Alright Princess slide off his lap and onto your knees on the floor and let's get started.” Kyle growls slightly, smiling as Aurora slowly moves to sit on her knees on the floor between John’s spread legs. Kyle reaches across John’s chest to undo John’s belt and fly, slowly sliding the zipper down before John lifts his hips a bit so Kyle can slide the pants to his thighs before he does the same to his underwear. Aurora stares in surprise as she comes face to face with John’s hard cock. She has never really seen one in person so she’s shocked at how large he is. Kyle chuckles when he sees her wide eyes. “That’s an Alpha cock, Princess. They’re typically much larger than others.” Kyle smirks as Aurora’s cheeks turn a dark red.

”Go ahead, you can touch him. it’s your chance to explore, see what makes him feel good.” Kyle purrs as he watches Aurora lift her hand to slowly wrap it around John’s hard length. Her small hand barely wraps around it, and when her hand encloses around the middle of it John lets out a groan of pleasure, his eyes closing slightly before they open again, not wanting to miss a moment of the sight of the small Omega enjoying him. Aurora slowly begins to move her hand up and down the length of him, feeling every vein under her palm with excitement. Whenever John releases a groan of pleasure he’s confidence soars a bit. After a moment Aurora notices the beads of precum leaking from his tip. She eyes in curiously as Kyle chuckles. 

“You can go ahead and taste him, Princess, do whatever feels right.” He encourages, and immediately Aurora leans forward to lick at his tip, tasting the salty precum there. John lets out a growl at the feeling of her tongue on him, his head leaning back slightly as his hands open and close on the arms of his desk chair, restraining himself from touching her in case he rushes her. After a moment Aurora slowly leans forward again to lick a stripe up the side of his cock, her eyes on his face as she watches it contort in pleasure, a satisfied hum leaving her throat before she takes his tip inside her mouth, giving it a small suck before twirling her tongue around it and letting go. “Sure it’s your first time sweetheart?” John grunts out and Aurora smiles up at him, enjoying his praise as she repeats her action, going down a little further each time until half of him is in her mouth.

Kyle leans forward and places his hand on the back of Aurora’s head to slow her down, resulting in her slowly bobbing her head along half of John’s length as John groans and growls in pleasure. “Use your hand for what you can’t fit in your mouth just yet.” Kyle purrs as he threads his hand into Aurora’s hair, controlling the speed of her bobbing on John’s cock. Aurora lifts her hand to wrap around the other half of John that she can’t fit in her mouth, moving it in tandem as she bobs on his length. “That’s a good girl, now see if you can go a little deeper, breathe out of your nose.” Kyle coos as Aurora slowly begins to take more of John in her mouth. “Ooh, do you not have a gag reflex?” Kyle says excitedly as he notices Aurora can almost fit John’s entire length inside her mouth and down her throat.

John lets out a throaty groan as he feels himself hit the back of her throat. “Swallow,” Kyle says quickly and Aurora swallows around John’s length causing him to growl and dig his fingers into the arms of his desk chair, almost teating holes into it. “If you want to let him enjoy it, you can let him just fuck your throat Princess. Think you can?” Kyle coos as Aurora looks at him and blinks before humming her approval. Kyle smiles as he removes his hand from the back of her head, crouching down so he's at eye level with her mouth and John’s cock. “You heard her Alpha. Just tap his thigh twice if you want him to stop.” Kyle says as he smiles. Aurora hums as John moves one hand from the desk chair to grab her ponytail.

Aurora stops moving as John begins to thrust into her throat, slowly at first, but when he sees she’s comfortable he begins to let go, thrusting more roughly and faster as he chases his orgasm. Loud growls and groans leave his lips as he throws his head back. “If you don’t want me to cum in your mouth you need to tap me Love.” He growls looking down. He’s shocked when he sees Aurora staring back at him, tears lining her eyes as she doesn’t move to tap him. In moments John’s shoving her head as far as it can go, and with a loud growl, he’s cumming down her throat. He holds her there as he finishes before slowly letting go. Aurora sits back and looks up at him as John reaches a hand out to wipe the tears from her face.

”You okay sweetheart?” John asks, his voice filled with concern. Aurora smiles as she nods and gives a content purr, which John chuckles at as he shakes his head. Kyle smiles as he leans over, placing his lips on Aurora’s and darting his tongue into her mouth, kissing her as he practically shoves his tongue down her throat before pulling away with a purr. “Tastes like my Alpha.” Kyle smiles and Aurora laughs as she shakes her head. John gently rubs his hand over Auroa’s face before petting her cheek and neck. “Go get some rest Love.” He says sweetly and Aurora nods as she heads back to her room leaving the Beta and Alpha in his office.

When Aurora gets in her room she grabs her things heads to the shower and thinks about the day and everything that happened, before she goes to sleep she sends a text to Johnny.

Feral: I decided. Tell Ghost I want it to be him…but no marking…and ask if he can try to not break me I guess…goodnight 

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[shadowmaat]

Shatterpoint Shuffle, pt. 2

Here's more of the Padawan Mace & Initiate Kenobi AU. Part 1 can be read here. Credit for the original idea once again goes to @bitter-chocolate-stars and @krazykupidspoems.

-

Padawan Mace Windu did not stomp down the corridors; he had far too much control for that. It wasn't that he was mad about his test score, no matter what others might say. His issue was with the fact that Master Radorm refused to accept two of the sources on his paper the Last Battle of Ruusan even though the Master of the Archives herself had found and approved them.

A small, muffled sob broke his concentration. He stopped, head canted as he listened. There were several sniffles, the quality giving the impression of a small, enclosed space.

"I don't care! I don't wanna see him!"

The voice was high-pitched but came out in a hiss, as if the speaker didn't want to be heard.

Expecting to see a pair of younger Padawans, perhaps, Mace stepped around the corner and regarded the empty hallway. There was an access panel of some kind near the floor, looking slightly off-kilter.

"Hello?" He took a step closer. "Does someone need help?"

Silence, broken by the sound of hitched breathing and smothered snuffles. Could two younglings even fit in that vent, or had one of them abandoned the other?

He considered his options, but really, what choice was there? Someone- and they had to be small, judging by the side of the panel- was hurting. Misery, shame, anger, and resentment hung thick in the air.

He'd be late to his next class, but that was fine. He sat, leaning back against the wall next to the panel.

"Perhaps I'll just stop here to meditate," he announced.

He closed his eyes, centering himself before stretching his senses in the Force. It twisted around him, spinning him in circles.

He clapped a hand over his mouth and reached into his pouch for one of the anti-nausea pills he always kept with him.

As it dissolved under his tongue, he took deep breaths, waiting for his stomach to settle. At least now he knew the likely identity of the person hiding in the vents.

He'd crossed paths with the human Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi several times over the past few years. Part of that, he was sure, was due to his Master's machinations, but sometimes, like now, it happened more… organically.

Obi-Wan was still an absolute mess of shatterpoints, but he'd come to terms with the fact that it wasn't the boy's fault, it was simply how he was. As unsettling as he could be to look at directly (and even worse in the Force), he still shone with a clear warmth to Mace's senses. A warmth that had dimmed since their last encounter.

"It's strange that this hall isn't as bright as it should be," he said. "Almost as if there was someone very sad nearby."

The vent huffed.

"If only I had some way of finding who it was, I might be able to help. It is, after all, one of the duties of a Jedi to help those in need."

Another huff.

"I know what you're doing," Obi-Wan said.

The vent cover rattled and Mace helped set it aside and extracted a dusty, disheveled Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His eyes were red and tear tracks cut through the dirt on his face.

"I don't need your help," he continued with a sniff. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his Initiate tunic, smearing more dirt. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your day, Gen- Padawan Windu."

Prickly. Very prickly.

"It's a welcome interruption, if I'm honest," Mace said. "What about you? What brings you to this conveniently broken vent at this time of day?"

"It was already like that!" Obi-Wan snapped. His glare turned to one side and he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I just needed to get away from people for a while."

He shifted, turning his back on whatever was in the hall that Mace couldn't see.

"I understand," he said. "People can be overwhelming even at the best of times, and when the Force has blessed you with a particular gift it can be even harder."

Obi-Wan gave him a narrow-eyed look. "A gift?"

"Sometimes gifts can feel like a burden," Mace said, rubbing his thumb against the base of his wrist. "Like psychometry. Or shatterpoints. Or whatever ability it is that you are developing."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Or maybe I'm just crazy, like Bruck 'n them keep saying."

Shock, followed by an all-consuming rage that threatened to swallow him. Mace closed his eyes and breathed deep, acknowledging the anger while recognizing that it wasn't helpful in his current situation. Calmness replaced the rage, but it was the calm of purpose. Banking the fire, as his Master called it.

"No," he said, looking Obi-Wan in the eye. "You are not crazy. The Masters may not have found a reference for your ability yet, but it's clear the Force has gifted you with an important tool. You may not have learned how to use it yet, but-"

"Gossip seems like a stupid tool," Obi-Wan said, glaring at a point past Mace's shoulder.

"Gossip?" He resisted the urge to glance back. "Gossip can provide a lot of unexpected information. Spies in particular covet it."

"Whatever." Obi-Wan shrugged and began trying to straighten his hair and clothes. "Not like I'll ever get to use it anyway. Everyone says I'm too angry to be a real Jedi."

Mace's eyebrows shot up. "Everyone?"

Obi-Wan stood, shaking out the wrinkles in his tunic. "Master Tlah, my teachers, the training Masters, Bruck."

Mace joined him in standing, banking another wave of anger.

"If anger disqualified you from becoming a Jedi, I wouldn't be here right now," he said.

"What?" Obi-Wan stared at him, wide-eyed. "You? But you're perfect!"

It startled a laugh out of him.

"Please be sure to tell my Master that. She'll be very surprised." Waving off Obi-Wan's attempted defense of him, he continued. "No, but I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with having negative emotions, it's even healthy to experience them."

He checked over the Initiate, smoothing down a tuft of hair and unkinking the hood of his robe. The shatterpoints seem to have stilled. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"What's important is how you handle those emotions. Has anyone shown you how to channel your anger into something more productive?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, and Mace began to mentally compose a letter to the Master of the Crèches for their lack of oversight into the management and teaching of the Clans.

"Well, then. How would you feel about some private lessons from a lowly Padawan Learner about how to use your anger for good rather than letting it control you?"

"What, really?"

"Really."

The Force didn't express emotions, but if it did, he was sure it would be laughing at him. Cyslin would definitely laugh when he told her about it later. She could tease him as much as she liked, but this was less about picking a future Padawan and more about giving a struggling child the tools he should have already been given to help him.

"Yes! Thank you, Padawan Windu!"

Mace watched, distracted, as some of the shatterpoints around Obi-Wan actually healed. He'd never seen that before.

Then Obi-Wan grabbed his fingers to walk with him, and for half a heartbeat he thought he saw figures in the hallway with him, gone before he could fully register their presence. A possible future, an echo of a different present, or just a sign he needed more sleep? Whatever, as Obi-Wan liked to say. Best to focus on the now and leave the rest to be Future Mace's problem. He gave the boy's hand a companionable squeeze and set off for their first lesson.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: september 2024

I'm turning in the reading roundup a little later than usual, but booooy not for lack of enthusiasm! September was such an interesting month for books, not least of all because you'll notice that things take a spooky turn towards the end of the month. in the name of whimsy I decided that October would be the perfect time to go on a themed reading kick and read through everything vaguely spooky, scary, or horror-related on my TBR, and then I thought, hey, why wait? Halloween is a state of mind, and I want to get spooked.

(have I been spooked yet? well... eh. but there's still time!)

my point being, if you want some creepy recs, hang tight because the October reading roundup is going to be great for you. in the meantime, here's what I read in September:

My Nemesis (Charmaine Craig, 2023) - cannot recommend this brief novel enough if you like very stylized prose about very insufferable people. Craig's protagonist is a memoirist who narrates her tale of woe exactly like she's writing a personal essay that's going to do numbers on twitter, intimate from a detached and analytical distance and giving the strong impression of a person who's made a living being intensely self-obsessed and can't quite manage to turn it off. it's a fascinating approach to a story about an emotionally overwhelming friendship destroying two marriages and ending in a woman's death, all without any actual adultery ever occurring. the narrator is consciously self-conscious, unreliable in the subtle and shifty way of someone trying to take exactly enough culpability to avoid being assigned more. it's a heavily interior novel, but Craig managed to keep me gasping with surprise here and there - the stomach-twisting reveal of why the narrator is actually telling her story, for one, as well as the revelation of the work within the novel that shares its name. if you like a tightly crafted character exercise, you're going to eat this up.

Raiders of the Lost Heart (Jo Segura, 2023) - this was the romance novel picked out via poll over on my patreon for September, and if I may be honest I was NOT excited! to my mind it was the dud of the group, the one amongst the four possibilities that I was most dreading. the garish cover, improbable plot summary, and blatant Indiana Jones of it all (the male love interest is literally named Ford) was a tremendous turn off, and you know what? I was wrong for that. Raiders ended up being one of the better romance novels I've read this year, and not JUST because I've been reading an endless parade of stinkers. the characters are largely free of manufactured drama and are instead believably and sympathetically rendered, with the female lead Corrie being a particular knockout; I would love to be her friend. the plot isn't nearly as cartoonish as the synopsis on the back of the book would have you believe, or at least most of it isn't; the silliness doesn't arrive until almost the very end, when Segura decides she needs some action movie stakes in here ASAP. and while the prose wasn't totally free of the genre's worst bullshit (stop reminding me that Ford's eyes are emerald, I beg), it was for the most part refreshingly no-nonsense. I wasn't even a chapter into this book when I found myself realizing I might really like it, and as of right now it's looking to claim the title of my favorite romance of 2024 in a landslide victory. having said that someone should be in thought crime prison for titling the sequel "Temple of Swoon."

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 11 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2022) - man you guys Dungeon Meshi is so fucking good. what the fuck. what the hell. it's so genuinely insane that Kui is still able to weave in elements of humor that feel so organic and natural to the characters at this absolutely dire point of the game, when all of my faves are actively in so much danger - largely FROM EACH OTHER - that I'm eating my fingers. christ. some of my students who are in an LGBT book club did Legends and Lattes last month and I just kept wanting to ask if anyone had read Dungeon Meshi for, you know, a very D&D-flavored story that's actually intensely interested in dissecting the tropes of the genre alongside race and class and xenophobia and the social rules of an adventurer heavy world but god. I couldn't. because it's not gay. like Senshi I just want to nourish the youngsters but I can't because it's not gay. please everyone for the love of god just read Dungeon Meshi.

The Most (Jessica Anthony, 2024) - I'm a simple man, and I added this tiny novel to my TBR based on a blurb that really gave me nothing but "a 60s housewife gets in the apartment complex's pool and refuses to get out and it freaks her husband right out." god forbid women do anything, right? anyway, at risk of showing my whole ass I think this is exactly the kind of "disaffected adultery and divorce" book that a lot of tumblr users claim to hate, and I fucking loved it. Anthony is a brilliantly sharp writer who paces her microcosmic drama perfectly, revealing everything at just the right moment like a practiced tour guide showing us around the shadowy corners of an aggressively ordinary marriage. I love adultery and I think this book in particular should be taught in writing courses. sue me.

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir (Akwaeke Emezi, 2021) - I think this year I've reread more books than I have any other year of my adult life, and I'm so glad that I took time to revisit Emezi's memoir. it's genuinely like nothing else I've ever read, one of the boldest and bravest things I've ever read. Emezi's account of godhood, of coming to understand themself as a deity trapped in flesh, is absolutely unwavering, completely grounded in their certainty of their truth and proceeding from there without ever worrying about persuading others to believe them. Emezi is a storyteller's storyteller, and their story doesn't need anyone's approval. but while it can be challenging, I wouldn't call the book confrontational. quite the opposite; in many places it's achingly vulnerable, as Emezi guides you through an unabashed tour of the very worst of their heartbreak, trauma, and alienation, and the times they've nearly succeeded in taking their own life. but god, please don't think this memoir is unrelenting misery. Emezi also speaks so, SO powerfully of opulence, of love, of the dedication to their artistry ad unabashed acknowledgement that they are a peerless talent. Emezi talks about magic of writing in a way that makes me feel like I'm being engulfed in golden-white flames; they make me want to transform myself into the artist I want to be. once again: I am an Emezi stan first and a person second forever.

The Beginning and End of Rape: Confronting Sexual Violence in Native America (Sarah Deer, 2015) - listen, I'll be straight up with you: unless you're exorbitantly interested in rape law, alternatives to carceral "justice," and legalese, this is going to be a very dry read, and there are not enough narrative segments to make up for that. for my money, Deer provides a thorough overview of the difficulties faced by American tribal nations in exercising legal power to prosecute and punish cases of sexual violence, despite the staggering levels of violence experienced by women in many Native communities. I really admired the intensely tempered view that Deer (a member of the Mvskokoe nation) brings to her work, discussing the history of Native approaches to sexual violence without pretending precolonial North America was a feminist utopia and offering thoughtful criticism of proposed substitutions to imprisonment. while the rape laws of any one of the 574 federally recognized tribes in the occupied lands of the United States could be a book on its own and Deer is constrained by the need to cover as much territory as she can in the broadest strokes possible, this is a solid primer to an ongoing social, spiritual, and legal issue that too rarely receives attention outside of Native communities.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and Other Misfortunes (Erica LaRocca, 2022) - straight up I was only trying to read Things Have Gotten worse, LaRocca's somewhat infamous story of a lesbian relationship that goes extremely wrong extremely fast, but the only copy available through my library system came with two more of his short stories (the aforementioned Other Misfortunes). I'm going to save time on the two extra stories: one is an incomprehensible exercise in religious trauma and I did not like it, and the other one was silly because I, personally, simply would not get so trapped in a sense of social obligation that I let my neighbor do stupid riddles to be until I was in a guillotine. rip to that guy but I'm different. anyway, back to the star of the show. I made the mistake of browsing some other people's thoughts on Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and encountered a truly dizzying number of people whose takeaway seems to be that it's bad not for any stylistic reason but because it depicts two lesbians being in a relationship that's deranged and unhealthy, to which I say you should probably go watch Stephen Universe or something instead of looking for #goodrep in the horror short stories. christ. for my money, Things Have Gotten Worse is messy in the most delicious way, absolutely bonkers from start to finish. escalates pretty much instantly and refuses to let up for truly even a second. cannot believe the predatory mommy dom turns out to be the reasonable one in this dynamic, that one threw me for a loop. it's not incredible but god was I entertained.

Fledgling (Octavia E. Butler, 2005) - another reread, revisiting some of my favorite little freak vampires for the spooky season! although, honestly, the most spooky scary thing about Butler's vampires is probably that vampires look like an Aryan cult and some of them are turbo racist while the other ones insist that it's totally 100% impossible for vampires to be racist and the fact that this gets quite a lot of people killed, something that I'm sure is just a weird coincidence and not any kind of commentary that Butler was making on anything at all. what else is there to say? this is one of Butler's most elaborate explorations of inverted power dynamics, dropping codependent symbiotic sexy vampire polycule cults smack in the middle of the 21st century United States instead of on an alien planet or an apocalyptic wasteland just to really drive home how crazy this shit it. and it's delicious! I love it! what a deliciously different interpretation of vampirism. imagine the utopia we'd be living in if this was the vampire novel that had gotten big in 2005 instead of Twilight.

The Low, Low Woods (Carmen Maria Machado, Dani, and Tamra Bonvillain, 2020) - first I remembered that there are horror comics that I can include in my Octoberish reading, and then I remembered that creepy queen Carmen Maria Machado has published one with DC Comics' Black Label. The Low, Low Woods follows dirtbag teen lesbians Octavia and El in the burnt out coal mining town of Shudder to Think, a town where everyone knows that something's not quite right but no one can seem to leave. the story begins with El and Octavia waking up in a movie theater with no memory of a movie, realizing that they've lost time. the ensuing investigation takes them deep into the town's troubled history, and forces them to realize it's not just the supernatural preying on the town. I love creepy Appalachia and would definitely recommend this for any Old Gods of Appalachia fans, and I will say that so far this is the only one of the spooky reads to really get under my skin and give me a full-body shiver due to the sheer overwhelming awfulness of the implications Machado raises with the revelations in her story. I'm not usually one for trigger warnings in my little roundups, but I cannot emphasize enough that if you have a hard time reading about sexual violence, you'll probably want to skip this one.

The Icarus Girl (Helen Oyeyemi, 2005) - I've been meaning to get into Oyeyemi's large body of work (in part because Akwaeke Emezi speaks quite highly of her) and where better to start than with her debut novel? and why not now, since it was tagged as horror? ultimately I'd concede that the book is creepy but don't know if I'd quite consider myself horrified, and that's completely fine since it's an astonishing piece of prose regardless. writing a believable eight year old narrator of an adult novel is a tricky thing, but Oyeyemi pulls it off beautifully with protagonist Jessamy, effortlessly selling her as an insightful, anxious, and intelligent girl who's still utterly believable as a child. the Icarus Girl revels in the same kind of "powerless child" horror as Gaiman's Ocean at the End of the Lane, following the lonely Jessamy as she initially is befriended and then tormented by a mysterious and powerful little girl that she meets while visiting her mother's family in Nigeria. as her new friends gets increasingly malevolent and out of control, Jess struggles to account for the damage and to be taken seriously by her parents when she tries to explain what's wrong. Oyeyemi apparently wrote this book when she was only a teenager, and if she's been leveling up her craft with each subsequent novel then I have a lot of look forward to.

[osleeplessflowero]

Concert Night

For lore context, see the previous part: "Back To You"!

Well, this was an unexpected surprise. One minute you're smooching one of your favorite skeletons and the next..you're greeting the ones you'd met in another life like they're new neighbors. Things just keep getting weirder..

Hand in hand, you and Sans walk behind a very enthusiastic Papyrus, rambling on about this and that as he approaches the new red and black home next door to yours. Was..was that always there? And that shade? You hadn't really thought about it before. Something tells you it wasn't..

He knocks on the door in a rhythmic pattern, waiting patiently for a reply. You and Sans both share a look as you hear commotion inside, before turning around to make a huddle.

"..you know these guys." He says it moreso as a statement than a question.

"Yeah." You reply immediately.

"you've met them somewhere else before." Another obvious statement.

"Pretty sure." You shrug.

"..do you think they'll remember?" He gestures his thumb towards the door, where Papyrus is waiting with his hands on his hips. You shrug at him again, holding a hand up to your chin to think.

"I don't..really know. I kinda doubt it, if this is meant to happen in this universe..they might not be the same. But I wouldn't mind getting to know them again to be honest..even if they might not know the "true" me formally." You smile a bit, Sans gives you a nod as you both turn back upon hearing the door open.

In the doorway stands a familiar looking skeleton, wearing his signature black fur coat, dark red sweater, basketball shorts and sneakers to match. His gold tooth shines when the light from the sun hits it, his single eyelight drifting over the three of you as he studies you. Lo and behold, it's Red. His eyesockets narrow as he looks over you in particular, a hint of recognition flashing his features..but he's unsure as to where it's from. You give him a little wave, he gives you a nod in return.

Sans looks over, earning a look of surprise from him. He holds up a hand and Sans mimics the action with a grin, mirroring his actions and holding back a laugh. You shake your head at the action as Papyrus clears his nonexistent throat.

"uh..so..who are you? whaddya want?" He looks over you all again, deciding to lean against the doorway. Papyrus perks up with a shining smile, pressing a hand against his ribcage.

"Hello! It's Truly A Pleasure To Meet You! You See, We Are Your Next-Door Neighbors," He points to your shared house. "And We Wanted To Stop By To Greet You! I Am The Great Papyrus, This Is My Brother Sans," Sans waves lazily. "And this is our partner in crime!" He gestures to you with a grin. You let out a little laugh at that, telling him your name.

Something about it sounds familiar to Red, but he isn't quite sure why..

The idea of two other skeletons having the same name as him and his brother was certainly..strange. He opens his mouth to say something, but a paper ball is thrown against his head from out of no where. Looking up to find the perpetrator, he sees no one, and glares up to where it came from before opening it.

Hey! So, little heads up. Those two are doubles of you from this timeline you've been dropped into! To help differentiate, you guys are being given nicknames. You can still use your names with your brothers though, of course. Around others, you'll go by Red. Don't worry, the others are getting these too. - A Friend

Okay. Weird. But it makes sense. He just wishes whoever sent them to this universe would stop throwing notes at him and get straight to the point.

"uh..i'm.."red", apparently. my brother.." He narrows his eyes when he reads the other nickname. "edge is inside unpackin' stuff. so he's not gonna be able to come out for a while. i wouldn't bother 'im while he's in the zone." He closes the door behind himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets shortly after. You can hear various cartoony sound effects inside the house, including the meow of a cat..for some reason.

"It's nice to..meet you, Red." You smile at him, resting your arms at your sides. Sans watches you both curiously, lazy smile never faltering.

"..likewise." He averts his eyelights for a moment until Papyrus picks up the conversation, talking about various positive aspects of the neighborhood and the city in general. He nods along as he speaks, before rolling up his sleeve to check the time.

"yeah, uh..i know a few people in the neighborhood over. we're actually plannin' a show tonight, so i can't stay home for too long."

You perk up at that. "A show? What kind?"

"well, uh..i can play guitar. so that's usually what i do. my brother plays the drums. and the piano, but it doesn't usually fit the vibe of my music.." He mutters that last part. You clap your hands together.

"Would it be okay if we go to watch you play? I'm super curious." You smile kindly at him, watching as he seems a little taken aback by the question. He hadn't..really heard this question from someone new before. Sure, a small crowd would usually show up to their concerts, but those were full of people who already knew the members well. For someone new to take an interest in him so quickly..it surprises him quite a bit.

"uh- i mean, shit, yeah. if you want to. you into rock? metal? along the lines?" He holds out one of his hands as he talks. You nod quickly in reply, and the tension in his shoulders eases a bit.

"Yeah, I'm totally down to listen to that. It's great."

"well, then..hold up." He feels around in his jacket pockets for something, before pulling out a small notepad and a pen with red ink. He writes something down before passing it over to you, and upon further inspection it seems to be the location of the concert.

"Awesome! I'll definitely be there. What about you guys?" You turn to the pair of skeleton brothers you're most familiar with, tilting your head slightly at them as they look between one another. Sans shrugs, and Papyrus nods eagerly.

"I'd Be Delighted To Attend! I Quite Enjoy Rock Music, Metal As Well! You See, I'm A Rather Brutal Kind Of Guy Myself." He winks, holding a hand beneath his chin. Red lets out a chuckle, as does Sans.

"if he's cool with it, i don't see why not. it's not my usual genre, but who knows? might like it." He smiles lazily, earning a nod from his double.

"well, uh..i'll tell my bro. i think he should be comin' out any minu-"

"SANS!"

"minute. now." He sighs, opening the front door and popping his skull into the entrance room. "yeah, bro?" He calls out to him, before sighing again and going inside. Finding his brother messing around with various boxes, organizing them in different locations.

"Where Is The Box Of Doomfanger's Things? I Cannot Find It Anywhere, And She's Restless Without Her Toys To Sleep With." Edge puts a hand on one of his hips, moving the other as he speaks. Red shrugs, looking at the box labels.

"uh..i think you might'a left that box in the basement with some of those other ones you've gotta unpack. might be why ya can't find it." He offers, and Edge seems to have a "Eureka!" moment, going downstairs to go check. Red lets out a sigh as he follows him down.

"AHA! I KNEW I Would Find It Sooner Or Later. Slippery Snake Of A Box.. Thank You For Your Assistance, Brother. Now Who On Earth Are You Speaking To Out There?" He turns to look at him while their fluffy cat wanders into the room with a meow.

"well, we're livin' next to some doubles of us. and they wanna come to the show tonight. don't seem too bad, so i figured 'why not' and gave 'em the location. they're still outside, by the way." He points to the front door with his thumb. Edge gasps, dusting himself off and making sure he looks suitable.

"You Could Have Told Me We Have Guests Sooner!" He scoffs. Red lets out a chuckle before walking back outside, opening the door. Doomfanger immediately rushes out, looking over the three of you. She stares long and hard at you before pouncing onto you, jumping into your arms abruptly with dilated eyes. Seems she recognizes you, at least..

"Hi, kitty! Oh my god, you're so fluffy, I could squeeze you to death-" You smile wide as you pet her head while the two homeowners walk back out.

Red says your name, "sans, papyrus, this is my brother, edge."

"A Pleasure To Meet You!" Papyrus greets him with an enthusiastic smile. Edge nods in reply, seeming to study the three of you carefully. You shrink a little bit under his gaze as he seems to stare at you far longer than the others, before adjusting his posture.

"Likewise, Neighbors. I Am Sure Our Holiday Decoration Battles Will Be Legendary." He huffs amusedly, putting his hands on his hips. "Be Careful With Doomfanger, She Is A Very Delicate Soul."

"Don't worry, I'll take the utmost care of her." You reassure him, happily playing with the suddenly over-affectionate kitty. Red huffs amusedly at that. Well, if Doomfanger likes you, that's certainly a good sign.

A few hours passed by. You and Papyrus made sure to get your best outfits for the occasion, and Sans..well, he looks exactly the same. But hey, at least he's coming along!

Looking over the location again, Papyrus sets it to his GPS and hops into his car. You slide across the hood for dramatic effect, before getting into the passenger side. Sans sits in the back, his preferred spot to relax in on trips. You and Papyrus both slide on some shades at the same time, and he takes off. You briefly take the opportunity to look at the other houses in this neighborhood, mainly seeming to be pretty blank and bland at the moment with the exception of yours and the Fell bros' house. A part of you wonders if you'll see other universes begin to turn up, filling in those bland spots and giving them the splashes of original color they truly deserve..

Papyrus happily sings along to the tune playing on the radio, Sans even chiming in from time to time. You smile as the wind hits your body, cooling you off as you make your way there. Papyrus parks after a short while, exiting his car and locking it before picking Sans up and sitting him on his feet. You exit as well, looking around. It's a pretty nice little setup they've got going on, the stage looks pretty great and there's quite a few different faces attending. You can't help but wonder what their concerts will look like once they become a bit bigger.

Some of the band members happily chat amongst themselves on the stage, the skeletal pair you happen to be looking for noticeably absent for the time being..likely backstage preparing. You decide to stay towards the back so you can stay beside Papyrus, since he wouldn't want his height to ruin the experience for anybody behind him. Sans relaxes beside you, taking in your surroundings with a hum.

Briefly checking the time on your phone, you perk up when the stage lights turn on, and the rest of the members walk out. Red walks to the front holding a red electric guitar, making sure everything's working properly and giving a thumbs up to his bandmates. Edge sits in the back, waiting for his cue to play the drums. You can't help but smile as you see them both about to do something they enjoy.

The music starts, and the crowd begins cheering and clapping along to the beat. Edge starts playing the drums quickly, joined in by Red's guitar alongside a few others. You find yourself bopping your head to the beat, focusing particularly closely on Red's movements. How he starts off a bit awkwardly, but slowly melts into the confidence you've come to know him for. A smile makes its way onto his skull as he walks with his guitar, putting his soul into playing. The lead singer gives their all as they focus on putting emotion into their lyrics, walking around the stage and leaning on their bandmates.

Red continues playing his guitar with confident strides, waiting until a solo section comes up for him to really show off his skills. You cheer as you hear him, clapping your hands in support. His eyelight meets your eyes, and everything..seems to stop.

The music muffles, as does the crowd. Your surroundings seem to blur as his focus lies only on you, and yours is only on him. For some strange reason..he feels like..he knows that look. Your face. The way you act. You in general. There's something so familiar, and yet..you've never met before today, have you? Surely you must have. ..Why else would this feeling be so strong? You smile brightly at him. The feeling makes him jolt, like something had struck his very Soul.

..Focus returns. He prioritizes playing through the song until the end, listening as everyone cheers. And yet..his eyelight doesn't leave you. Not for a good long while, until someone else calls for him so they can start up the next song in their list.

You hold Sans' hand, running your thumb over it as you bop your head to the music. He smiles over at you, before focusing on the show before you. ..Even if he just so happens to want to watch you a little bit more.

Something tells him this is only the start of a series of strange phenomena. Something he's not quite sure how to feel about..especially so quickly.

..But he'll manage. He always finds a way to.

[fategoflatass]

I used to be so against the slow burn trope. Not because I thought it was shit; it's just, I usually don't have the patience to wait whatever-amount-superior-to-three damn chapters for my dear ship to finally be able to look at each other without blushing and/or hold hands. Thus why you often times see me reading oneshots or fics with the "Established Relationship" tag on them.

So you can imagine just how surprised—or maybe not, maybe I just didn't think enough about it—I was when I realized my newest fixation's main pairing is—canonically—the embodiment of slow burn. Because holy shit they're taking their time.

Nothing against how Kusuriya develops its love story—quite the opposite, actually. The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao, two characters that are written as beautifully as their romance, is a rather realistic approach as to how the same or a similar dynamic would developed in real life. In such a complicated situation, with such complex feelings about emotions—both external and their own—and attachment, makes sense that it takes so long for the relationship to finally sail.

The problem is, I didn't know I was signing with the Devil the moment I decided to pick up the light novel. Ten volumes and nothing has happened. Nothing.

And you can say that technically things have happened, because they have. I mean, Jinshi is just so desperate for Maomao to give him the time of day, you know what I mean? And even that isn't enough anymore and thus he has committed some of the craziest shit I've seen in any romance. Which okay, I don't usually read these type of romances but still.

What I mean by "nothing" is just, their relationship hasn't changed status. I could also say that it seems to go nowhere, but that'd be lying. Since, you know, it has changed quite a lot—just not in the way my impatient ass wanted it to. Because he can be as honest with his feelings as he pleases, and those around them might be heavely conscious of the tension and thus constantly tease those lovebirds (as they should), but babygirl's not helping, you know?

And I get it, Maomao's not the best at expressing and understanding herself, and she's also way too busy worrying about going as unnoticed as possible (she should give up on that one already, tbh) while keeping her head where it should be. But like, I can't help feeling frustrated over it like ‼‼

GIRL, FUCK THE RULES. TAKE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A MAN AND RUNAWAY SOMEWHERE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU. YOU THEN CARRY THAT BITCH BRIDESTYLE TO THE CLOSEST CHURCH AND MAKE HIM YOUR WIFE. PROCEED TO FROG AROUND, EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR UTERUS AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND THEN TEACH THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR PRACTICES AS YOUR OWN GUINEA PIG THE WAYS OF HERBAL MEDICINE. AS EASY AS THAT.

But she won't. She'll take her sweet ass time being in denial about both Jinshi's and her own feelings, then maybe she'll proceed to analize herself and find out that maybe, just maybe, that affection that she'd been feeling for that loser became something else. Did said affection also become something more complicated? Absolutely. Does she know how to deal with it? Hell no, but fuck it. If I learned something from school is that you always leave the hardest parts for later.

Now you see why I was so against reading slow burn?

And you wanna know the worst part? I loved it—I loved every second of it, every word, every page. Every scene that seemed to help the relationship advance, only for Maomao to say nope and leave like she owns the place, which at this point she fucking might.

It feels like I, as the reader, am in the middle of a heatwave and some sadistic bastard won't stop teasing me with ice cream—they put it in front of my face, close enough that I can smell the cold. Then take a spoon and eat little by little while staring directly to my eyes. At times they seem to show mercy and feed me a spoon, only for it to be a rather small quantity of serving—serving that tastes so damn good at first, only for it to have such a bitter aftertaste. But if I gotta have something in common with Jinshi is that I'll never be able to beat the masochist allegations, so I'll wait patiently for the next spoon and its corresponding and seemingly enless teasing from that faceless being.

So yeah, I'm still against it, only that now I understand the appeal—even if I have yet to find out about the whereabouts of my sanity while still mananing with the little I've left.

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 6

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Dr. Crane wants to make some changes to your previous arrangement.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, hickeys, grinding, riding, praise, degradation, crying (but in a hot way), consensual sex, cockwarming?, he’s a simp lowkey, but he’s doing his best to hide it.

Words | 3k

Notes | I hope y’all enjoy! I’m doing my best to keep it consistent with how his character would act but it’s definitely a challenge lol

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 5

True to his word, he did return the next day with a few things. He stopped by your cell, rather than having someone bring you to him. When he handed you the bag, you eagerly took it and sat down on your bed to look through it. A sketch pad, multiple pencils- some colored- and two books that you haven’t heard of. 

“I hope it is satisfactory.” He said, emotionless as ever. 

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You beamed at him and he gave you a stiff nod, awkwardly looking everywhere but your eyes. 

“Would you like anything else?” 

“This is plenty.” You lied, not wanting to abuse his kindness. 

“Okay. Bring that whenever you come to my office just in case you need something to do.” He gestured to the bag in your lap and you nodded. “Shall we?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, but even with the items he gave you, having only a little decent human interaction is not enough so you agreed eagerly. 

“Do you have something planned?” You asked as you walked next to him, bag in hand. 

“Not exactly. I just have some questions.” That’s all? He’s just going to ask you things? When you arrived, you sat down across from him, waiting for his questions. 

“Are you eating?” He asked suddenly. 

“Uh- yes? It’s hard to, though. The food is… not what I’m used to.” You did your best to say ‘the food here tastes like shit’ without actually saying that. 

“And that is preventing you from eating even though you must be hungry?” His tone was clinical… neutral. 

“I’ve gotten used to the feeling by now.” You shrugged and he hummed in acknowledgment. 

“From now on I think it would be best if you ate lunch with me, in my office.” 

“What?” You choked out, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You are of no use to me this malnourished.” Is it really that obvious? You’ve only been here a couple weeks… “So I will bring you something and you will eat with me.” He said simply, as if his words didn’t have the impact that they do. He wants to not only bring you food, but eat with you every day too? 

“You can refuse, though I would highly frown upon that, given your current state of health.” 

“No, I- I’ll eat in here. Please.” The thought of actual food was already making your stomach roar to life. 

“Good. Starting tomorrow then.”

“Okay. Was there anything else?”

“When you offered your assistance, was that to satiate boredom or were you being genuine?” He asked casually. 

“Both. Why?”

“It might be nice to have someone to help with all of the paperwork so I can spend my time on more important tasks.” It wasn’t lost on you the way he phrased it as a statement, rather than him just asking for your help. 

“What would you have me do?”

“To start? Copying my notes onto forms, scheduling appointments, things like that.” While it didn’t sound like the most exciting job in the world, it seemed better than your current routine. 

“Sure.” He almost seemed caught off guard by your answer. “During lunch? Or would I do it another time?”

“You need to eat so, no, not during lunch. It will vary each day so I do not have a specific answer.”

“Okay.” 

 “Have you thought about my other offer at all?” You completely forgot about that to be honest. Which he seemed to be able to read from your expression. “That’s alright. You can think about it now if you want and I can answer any questions you have.” 

“Okay… I do have questions.” He motioned for you to continue so you did. “What exactly would I be doing?”

“Sometimes administering the toxin yourself, sometimes writing down my thoughts. Depends on the day.” He shrugged. 

“Why do you want me to do this?” 

“There’s no catch, if that’s what you’re asking.” He said coyly— trying to deflect.  

“If there’s no catch, then why?” He let out a heavy sigh and looked away from you as he thought. 

“Normally when a patient outgrows their… usefulness… Well, you saw the state of some of them down stairs. And as of right now, your fears are trivial. Phobias of a person or an object are common, it’s not something I need to use you for.” 

“So instead of giving me enough toxin to drive me mad, you’d rather I help you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why can’t you let me go? If I’m not useful to you anymore.” 

“Do you want me to?” That made you falter. 

“I… I don’t want to leave you, I just want to leave here. I miss my bed, I miss real food and comfortable clothes.”

“You miss that… more than you would miss me. Is what you’re saying.” He almost sounded offended. 

“No, I just- I want to help you, but I can’t stay here forever. I’m miserable.” He looked down to the desk at your words. 

“And how do I know this isn’t just some plot to get out of here?” He said, looking at you again. 

“You’re the one with the psych degree, you tell me.” He narrowed his eyes as he examined you and you waited patiently for him to find that you’re telling the truth. He hummed in acknowledgment, seemingly not finding the right words. 

“Why do you want me to stay so bad? You said it yourself, I’m not useful to you anymore.” You asked softly, hesitantly. 

“Just because I don’t need to study you in my experiments, doesn’t mean you can’t help me with them.” 

“That’s the only reason?” You could already feel yourself deflating from his words. 

“What other reason would there be?��� You bit your lip and looked at your lap. 

“Nothing.” You smiled dryly, looking back up at him. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, whatever I do is up to you. You’re not going to let me go and you don’t want to use me in your experiments so there aren’t many options.” You shrugged, not wanting to draw this conversation out so you can avoid any other tactless remarks. 

“Fine. Regarding your… treatment, that will be up to you.” Did he not want to do that anymore? You don’t want to say you want to keep doing it if he doesn’t actually want to. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” You tried to sound normal and not desperate or sad. 

“Do I want to keep raping you? No, I don’t.” 

“Oh,” You didn’t mean it like that. Honestly it’s hard to think of it as that now. “Okay, then… we can stop.” You said quietly. 

“Is that what you want? Or are you just saying that because of what I said.”

“It doesn't matter what I want if you don’t want to. That defeats the whole purpose of discontinuing the rape.” He eyed you curiously before responding. 

“If it wasn’t rape, would you want to continue?” He asked, looking at you through slightly narrowed eyes. 

“I mean… it’s- I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. 

“It’s a yes or no question.” He said teasingly with a glint in his eyes. 

“You answer first then!” You said defensively. 

“Would I want to keep fucking you consensually? Yes.”  He said lowly, making your breath hitch. 

“Okay well maybe I want that too.” You said, once again, defensively. When he didn’t respond and let you stew in your answer, you rambled out more. “And by maybe, I mean more than maybe.” You watched his lips turn up into a smirk at your rambling. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like- like that!” You exclaimed, pointing at the growing smirk on his lips. 

“Would you want me to consensually fuck you right now?” He asked casually, making your eyes widen. You tried to stammer out a response, but he granted you mercy by continuing. “Come here.” As he took off his glasses and set them on the desk, you stood and slowly walked over to him, waiting awkwardly once you were by his side. He grabbed your hips and rolled his chair back a little, giving you room to straddle his thighs. Once you were settled, he placed his hands on the arms on the chair, making you frown. 

“It’s only consensual if you actually give consent. So far you haven’t.” He explained, raising his brows as he waited for your response. 

“Yes. Fine- I want it.” You muttered, embarrassed. 

“What was that?” 

“I want you to fuck me. Please.” You weren’t able to maintain eye contact as you spoke. His hands grasped your hips, pulling you forward to grind against his bulge, making your breath hitch. You lifted your hands to place on his shoulders, but froze, not sure if it’s okay. He seemed to sense your hesitation because he gave you a nod to your silent question. As your hips maintained the movement without him needing to guide you, your gaze drifted down to his lips. You’ve never seen a man with such pink, soft looking lips. You watched them curl up into a small smile, making your eyes snap up to his. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked, eyes fluttering down to your lips. 

“Yes please.” You whispered, subconsciously leaning closer. It hasn’t even been very long but you already miss the feeling of his lips pressed to yours— the way he eagerly swallowed down your sounds. 

He leaned up a little and captured your lips in a kiss, making your hips stutter. This kiss was less desperate and hungry than the previous one you shared. Instead, it was slower, more gentle. He removed one hand from your hip and placed it over your covered heat, rubbing your clit through the layers of clothing, making you gasp into the kiss. 

“Please.” You whined against his lips as he continued to tease you. That seemed to be enough for him though and he pulled away from the kiss to free his cock before pulling your pants and underwear down just enough to free your drooling cunt. 

“Tell me what you want.” He prompted, stroking his length to full hardness. 

“Please fuck me.” You whined, hips squirming, trying to maneuver yourself onto him. He relented, lifting your hips enough to line his cock up with your entrance, then pulling you all the way down. You let out a choked moan, brows furrowing and eyes slightly watering from the stretch— maybe I should’ve let him tease me a little more, you thought, trying not to wince. He seemed to pick up on that though and he let you remain buried on his cock, not moving yet. 

“Relax.” He said softly as his hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles. 

“I- I’m sorry.” You whispered, willing your body to just hurry up and adjust. “I’m okay… You can move.” You said, holding your breath, preparing yourself for the stinging pain to worsen. Instead, his hand moved to your clit, rubbing slowly to build your arousal. When your walls fluttered around his length, the only indication he gave that he was affected was a slight hitch of his breath. 

His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you into another kiss. Your hips started rocking slowly and he pulled back from the brief kiss to remove your shirt. He leaned down, sucking your nipple into his mouth, not even teasing you first, and you gasped as your hands found their way to his hair again. The hand that wasn’t on your clit, moved to your other nipple, lightly pinching and rolling it between his fingers. After another few seconds, he pulled back with a wet pop, then switched to the other one. The stinging in your core was replaced with a dull ache by the time he had finished. 

“Fuck me.” You whispered, hips rocking greedily. He had to look in your eyes to be sure, but once he was satisfied with your honesty, he moved both hands to your hips again and slowly lifted you before letting you drop back down with a startled moan. He continued the slow, teasing pace, you started to whine impatiently as you pulled on his hair. You could tell that he was having an internal battle of whether or not he should fuck you like you wanted or punish you for being greedy and you did your best to hide your smirk when he chose the former. 

He grabbed your hips tighter and planted his feet to start thrusting up into you, but he only lasted a few seconds before his chair started rolling back. He cursed under his breath and stood up, making you grab onto his shoulders as you let out a startled sound. Holding you up by your thighs, he walked you over to the couch, then sat down and almost immediately started bucking up into you. 

“Shit-“ You said through a breath at the suddenness of his thrusts, but he paid no mind to it. He just held you still and fucked you with an intensity you didn’t know he had. 

“That’s it- just take it. Just be a good girl, sit nice and still, and fucking take it.” He growled, making you whimper. 

“Please.” You cried, holding onto his shoulders so tight that your fingers ached. 

“Tell me what you’re begging for.” He said lowly, but his voice was starting to get breathier. 

“I- I don’t know… please!” 

“Poor thing. I fuck you for just a few minutes and already you’re too cock drunk to even know what you’re begging for.” He cooed mockingly, making you whine and clench around him. 

“Dr. Crane,” You whimpered, eyes filling with tears of desperation. 

“I wonder how long I’ll have to fuck you for until you’re permanently cock drunk.” You sobbed out a moan at that, feeling the knot of arousal in your stomach grow even tighter. 

“Please!”

“You want that? You want me to turn you into a cock drunk whore? Just a little sleeve for my dick?” You let out an embarrassed whine, feeling your cheeks heat up as you nodded. 

“I bet you do.” He chuckled breathlessly. “I bet you just want to be turned into a proper fuck toy— you don’t need to think, you just need to be fucked and bred.” You let out a choked sob, his words feeding into your kink enough that the fear was at the back of your mind. You nodded again with a whimper. 

“If you want something, you need to ask for it. And quickly too, otherwise I’ll have to pull out. You don’t want it to go to waste do you?” He frowned, making you mirror the expression. 

“No… Want your- I want your come, please…” You whimpered, eyes burning with tears of humiliation. 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up? Say it.”

“I- I want you to- to fill me up... Please, Dr. Crane.” When the tears started falling, he removed one hand from your hip to wipe them away as he shushed you. 

“There’s no need to cry. I’ll give you what you want.” He said softly and you sniffled in response.  

“Thank you.” You whimpered. 

“Ready?” You couldn’t respond, not as his grip became painfully tight on your hips and he fucked even rougher. All you could do was nod. “Rub your clit.” He said through a breath. You moved a shaky hand between your legs, rubbing fast circles over your clit as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching. He let out a low groan as your walls spasmed around his length from the pleasure, then forced you all the way down, the tip bulging your stomach a little. You let out a choked moan, feeling his cock twitching inside as hot come painted your walls. Through your moans you could hear him groaning and panting, eyes squeezed shut as he rode out his orgasm. When he stilled, you whimpered painfully, feeling close to your own orgasm. 

“Please.” You cried, hips trying to rock against him even though he was mostly holding you still. “Please, I wanna come.” You whined, eyes filling with tears once again. 

“Go ahead.” He said simply, removing his hands from your body and settling into the couch with a small smirk. 

“But I want your help.” You frowned. 

“I’m giving you my cock. Would you rather I let you hump my leg instead?” You let out a long, needy whine as you pouted. 

“…No.” You muttered. 

“Then go ahead.” You whined, but started rocking your hips faster, continuing to rub your clit. “That’s it. Put on a good show for me.” The emotion in his voice was new to you— even if it was just smug amusement. You moved your hips faster, rubbed your clit harder, eagerly chasing your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” He was teasing you, mocking you, but you still let out a strangled moan from the praise. Your orgasm crashed over you suddenly, making your whole body tremble as you rode it out, sobbing out moans from the pleasure. When your sounds died down and your body stopped shaking, you sagged in exhaustion, hissing as his cock went even deeper in your now sensitive cunt. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked up at him through your lashes, sleepiness clear in your features. 

“Good girl. Did that feel good?” He said softly and you nodded, not even attempting to talk. You wanted to lean forward against his body, lay your head on his chest and let your heavy eyes fall shut. But you knew there wasn’t even a slight chance that he would react any way other than negatively. So you placed your hand on his chest, forcing yourself to stay up and not give in to the sleepiness. 

“Are you tired?” He asked and your eyes fluttered open again, not even realizing you closed them. 

“Yeah.” You did your best not to slur the word. 

“You can rest here before returning to your room. I have quite a bit of work that needs done so I’ll be here a while.” 

“Mhm.” You nodded, giving him a small smile that you swore he almost returned. When he grabbed your hips and started lifting you off his cock, you whined. 

“I know.” He said quietly. Once you were sitting normally on his lap, he pulled your underwear and pants back up, then gently set you on the couch. When he stood up and walked away, you frowned, but he quickly returned, holding your shirt. He slipped it on over your arms and head, then let you lay down, resting your head on your hand as you curled up on your side. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled, not able to keep your eyes open long enough to wait for a response. 

Part 7

[skipper1331]

Obsessed // Alessia Russo

Alessia and you were lying on the couch watching modern family. Well, that was the original plan, however Alessia had a different one. The TV shouldn’t have your attention. Alessia should have your attention.

"Lessi, what are you doing?" you giggled.

The striker had her hands on your sides, pulling you into her while peppering kisses all over your face.

"I‘m so obsessed with you, baby." Her eyes were nothing but full of love. Still, all these years later she made you feel like a lovestruck teenager.

Alessia often used that phrase. Because it‘s true. That girl was head over heels for you and has been since the moment she met you.

Many years ago

Alessia and her friends were playing football in the park.

And then there was you walking around with your little brother. Normally, you would be studying but your mother was still working so you had to take care of your brother. You enjoyed it though. Your brother was a little sunshine. Smiley, goofy, laughing. A boy who enjoyed his life.

"I want a dog, missy. You know? It would be so cool! I could play with him all the time. While I throw him his toy I would train my arm. So I can be like gramps." Your grandpa was an absolute legend in handball. The same passion he had, your brother has now. And to be honest your brother was quite good at it.

So the reason why you were at the park was to let him play. You knew there was a little goal which he could use. Nobody used it. You have never seen someone besides your brother use it.

As soon as he saw the goal he ran to it and threw the ball. "MISSY! HURRY UP!!!" he shouted while you walked (slowly in his eyes) to him. His shouting got Alessias attention. She and her friends a bit away. But not only Alessias attention, everyones attention. They all shared a look before they looked towards the both of you. When Alessia saw you her world stopped. You might think of it as a cliche but Alessia Russo had never seen a girl prettier than you. She watched the way you played with your brother, the way you would jump in the wrong way so the ball would go in, the way you played catch and throw.

The whole time while playing with her friends she couldn‘t focus. She was too focused on you. Too obsessed with you.

Her touch was sloppy. Her passes were sloppy. Eventually her friends gave up on having a good game. When they started their journey home Alessia thought about doing it too but she couldn‘t go home without knowing your name. She would regret it. Being bold in that moment she walked over to the two of you. "Wrong choice of sport, mate" she joked. "Hi, i‘m Al-" she couldn‘t even finish her sentence because your brother was so offended. "Excuse you! My gramps is a H-E-R-O in this sport." She didn‘t think that her choice of words would lead to this. She just wanted to get know you. "Scotty, be nice. She was joking." In that moment she could‘ve sworn that she was about to faint. Your voice was music to her ears. "I‘m Y/N"

And that‘s how your relationship started.

some years ago

Alessia and you have been a couple for about 2 years and you both couldn‘t be happier. But what Alessia was feeling right now was anything but happiness. Her day already started shitty and it only got worse. Last night she forgot to charge her phone so this morning it didn‘t have any battery. As a result she couldn‘t read your daily morning messages. In school she found out that she left her homework at home which were due today and training in general was just not it. The worst part of all was that she missed you. She wanted to be in your arms. They would make anything better. Immediately after training was finished Alessia made her way home. She knew you were at her house waiting.

You and her mom were sitting in the living room talking about the new recipe she tried a few days ago when a moody Alessia came home. She didn‘t even say hello. She just walked up to you, grabbed your hand and pulled you along with her. In her bedroom, she wordlessly laid you down on her bed and flopped onto you. Instantly your arms went around her. Her face was hidden in the crook of your neck while she inhaled your scent. "Hard day today, baby?" you asked quietly. You could feel her nod. You pressed a kiss to her temple and started tracing patterns on her back, so she would calm down. You didn’t know how long you‘ve been doing it but when you heard her sleepy voice say "I‘m obsessed with you" you knew she was about to fall asleep.

a few years ago

It was family trip time.

Alessias family had invited you to come with them to Italy. Of course you agreed. You have never been in Italy before and with all the stories Alessia told you about her nonna you were excited to meet her. Alessia loved Italy. How couldn‘t she? She loved everything about it. The food, the people, the weather, everything. And now the person she loved most came to the place she loved. She was excited. On the whole journey (the flight and car rides) to her nonnas she couldn‘t shut up about the things she wanted to show you. She was so enthusiastic and full of joy that you couldn‘t stop smiling (at her).

In the first week Alessia showed you around, took you on romatic dates and you, her and her family had almost every night a game night. It was perfect.

One night her nonna made dinner (she always did but this time it was different) she asked you if you wanted to learn how to make a real italian lasagna. You didn’t let that opportunity slip through your fingers. Her nonna showed you how to make the perfect lasagna and while she taught you it she also taught you some italian words and phrases.

Alessia was head over heels. She loved that her nonna liked you, she loved that you and her nonna connected so well. She felt special because you were special. Her nonna had never asked someone who was not blood related to help her make her lasagna. Not one of her brothers girlfriends, nobody. The only thing Alessia could do was watch. She watched you the whole time with big heart eyes. "You really love her, don‘t you?“ her brother asked, snapping her halfway out of her trance but not completely. “Yeah. I‘m so obsessed with her.“ she answered honestly, still with her eyes fixed on you. What she didn’t realize though was that her answer was in fact loud spoken. Not in a whisper like she thought. "I always knew you‘re obsessed with me“ giggling you pressed a kiss on her cheek. Her face turning a deep shade of red. "Look at the lasagna we made!“ you stated with so much pride in your voice. You were really proud of that lasagna, hoping it would taste good. "It looks almost as amazing as you“ your lover replied whilst smacking her arm around your waist. "smooth“ the other Russo brother laughed.

The rest of the night was filled with a delicious meal, laughing and enjoying each others presence. That night was one of the happiest Alessia ever had. She was in the country she loved, around the people she loved most. She was at peace.

present

"Still? Years later?“ you whispered against her lips, an inch away. ”Yeah“ she breathed.

With that being said she kissed you. She kissed you like there was no tomorrow. She kissed you like you were the only girl in the world (because for her you were). She kissed you like she would do it for the rest of your lives.

After all those years Alessia was still obsessed with you and neither of you wanted it any other way.

—————————

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 1|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: So this is the fandom that won the poll! I'll try and keep these and Break Me Slowly regular, but still feel free to give me requests for both in my inbox, I do oneshots and headcanons as well as I'll answer your questions and comments! (Please just read the rules first) I think I have a general timeline and idea of the lore [It's FNAF lore it's complicated as fuck] so I'm going with my best guess on things. Hope you guys enjoy!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William's a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

Who knew that a bit of twisted words and cash made all of your problems go away? William had struggled to stay open with Henry Emily's company showing such strides in mechanical technology. He was still wearing homemade cloth suits while his rival had dancing puppets that children adored. His dreams and ideas were being stolen right out from under him in his eyes, rolling in mountains of debt and the threat of closing down looming over his head. They were his characters, his dream, his business idea, and the bastard had to steal it and make it better. Even though he had bought William out of debt all those years back, it didn't change the sting of defeat when the two businesses merged.

Now he didn't regret it, Fredbear's Family Diner was just starting out but it was already projected to be a success. His characters took centre stage and had never been more alive, delighting young and old alike, his legacy started now.

Which is when he noticed the girl sitting at a table with her friend, they were giggling and laughing together over some inside joke. William had always had a soft spot for pretty girls, his more reckless years spent taking what women offered him freely, now he didn't have the time.

However for this girl he might just be able to make the time.

Casually he walks over, pretending to just be passing by, when he spies the job application she's filling out on the table and catching snippets of their conversation.

"I'm just saying, you're not going to have time for school while getting even a part time job." The friend was saying this, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "And now offence, you're not the brightest bulb, you need all the time to study that you can get."

"Well thanks." She mutters, giggling slightly. "But I can't afford college with my situation now. Mom and Dad agreed to pay for most of it, but-" She hesitates with a blush. "I want the full college experience."

"Ooh~" Her friend seems intrigued. "My best friend finally loosing her innocence? Scandalous."

She scoffs. "Look I just haven't found the right guy yet, it'll happen when it happens."

At this William can't help but interject. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but glance over your shoulder and see you're applying for a job here."

She meets his eyes, and man was he a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah I am, are you a manager here?"

He chuckles a little. "No actually, I'm the owner." While co-owner was technically true he liked to tell people he owned it solely to give himself an ego boost. "If you wanted, I could do the interview right here."

"Wait really?"

"Actually, she's fine, thanks, she's going to get a job with my mom or something. Come on let's go-" Her friend slides out of the booth, trying to drag the woman with her.

"Well I'm going to be brutally honest with you here ma'am, for a girl your age your options are going to be extremely limited. And even though the pay isn't great it's a great experience."

She stops, considering his words before waving off her friend. "Go ahead, I think I'll still fill it out, never hurts."

"If you'd like I can interview you right now, save some time."

"Oh wow that would be awesome-"

"Seriously? Listen, this guy gives me a weird feeling, let's just go okay? And I'll find you something better." The friend again reaches for her to come along, but the girl refuses.

"I'm serious, go on and I'll tell you how it went later."

With a huff her friend leaves, a clearly annoyed expression evident on her face.

William regains his composure before sitting across from her. "So, a job. Tell me what you can do." He crosses his hands on the table in front of her, a smile easily coming to his face.

"Well, I was thinking I would be a good server, I'm good with people, especially kids, and I love to clean. I can cook pretty well too but I think something at this scale would be too much for me." She laughs a little, clearly trying to ease a little nervousness.

He joins in on her laughter, hoping to make her comfortable around him, since that's what he wanted. "I suppose that's fair. Out of curiosity, why is it you want this job?" She was hired already, that he knew, a pretty face with a nice ass? What more could you want from an employee?

"Well I'm in college, and I want to be able to afford just some extras to really experience that life before it's too late."

"College?" He feigns interest, in his opinion all she was doing was wasting her most fertile years and her money. If she's halfway decent at any of her qualifications then she'd easily find a rich enough man like him, pop out a few kids and have a truly fulfilling life. "Can I ask what for?"

"Psychology, the human mind has always fascinated me."

"Oh yes definitely." He suppresses an eye roll, even more of a useless degree, maybe he could help this girl from throwing her life away because she thinks deep thoughts will make her money. "Then I should ask for your class schedule for hours."

"Right, I always keep it with me because I'm always forgetting." She giggles again, pulling it out of her purse and handing it to him. "I cannot work these times but anything else I'm there."

Wanting these hours to know when not to schedule this girl was the last thing on William's mind. "Well I'll do what I can, but it's not that easy, you have to be flexible in the real world."

"Of course, I understand that sir."

"William, call me William. My grandfather was sir and my father was Mr. Afton, so I'm just William." He flashes another smile, coaxing one from her lips as well.

"Alright, William." She tests his name out on her tongue with a soft smile and a subtle blush, the poor girl clearly hasn't been within five feet of a man before.

"Now Miss, have you had any work experience prior to this?"

"No, I haven't, this sounds entitled but I've never really had the need to up until now?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, although I'll need to teach you the proper dynamic between employee and employer. But I trust that won't be a problem, right?"

"Not at all sir-er-William. I'm more than happy to learn."

"Good, all you need to know is that I'm your friend, but I have authority over you so you need to follow what I say without question."

"Why without question?"

Oh she was so naive. "Insubordination, it's grounds with which you can be fired. So best not to stray too far towards that right?" He winks.

"Absolutely-" She shivers slightly.

"Then if that's it..." He draws the moment out for it to seem authentic. "Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner and we're happy to have you on the team." He extends a hand to shake, which she grasps eagerly, her rows of white teeth on full display.

"Oh thank you so much! When do I start?"

"We'll have you start next week, let's say, Monday."

"That's perfect, that's so perfect-" She glances at the door. "I really should go, I think I've pissed her off enough as it is, thank you for your time." She shakes his hand and hurries out the door.

"Oh trust me, don't worry about it." He watches her go, a small smile coming to his face.

This was just the beginning.

[misshoneyimhome]

Hey! How do you see Maple Leafs health intern/worker and William finally having sex for the first time? How does he reacts to her body? Idk why, from the descriptions, I see her having a couple sleek and simple and cheeky tattoos on her body—how would he react??

And I know it’s been a while, but are intern MLSE openly dating? Did she get a new job and they can be honest??

Well hey there bb! 🤗 Oh, the MLSE intern… I almost forgot about her! 🙈 So, just off the top of my head:

I imagine she ended up getting a new job after her internship wrapped up—probably something amazing that let her step out from under the MLSE umbrella and truly shine. Once that happened, I feel like the dynamic between her and William would’ve shifted. The sneaking around was exciting at first, but after a while, it became too much for both of them. They’d want to be honest and open about their relationship, especially with the people closest to them.

She’s so professional and mindful, though, that I could see her wanting to handle it properly. Like, she’d probably request a meeting with HR or whoever she needed to speak to, just to make sure everything was above board. It’d be important to her to do it the right way, so there were no misunderstandings or awkward situations (especially with social media activity). William would totally support her through it, even if he’s a little impatient to stop hiding.

Once they got the green light, I imagine they’d start by being open with their inner circle—teammates, close friends, and a few trusted colleagues. It’d be such a relief to finally share their happiness with the people who already had their suspicions but didn’t want to pry. 🥰 From there, I think they’d find their balance between keeping things private and living their lives openly. And honestly, knowing them, they’d do it in a way that felt so genuine and right.

➼｡ﾟ

Ahhh yes, the moment we’ve been waiting for—our physio intern and William finally giving in to everything they’ve been holding back! 🥰 It’s been a bit of a slow burn, and these two deserve this moment together. Things start off slow and tender, but as soon as William gets his hands on her… let’s just say he doesn’t want to hold back 😉 And those tattoos? William might not be the tattoo type himself, but he can’t help but be completely captivated by the art on his girl—he’s obsessed in the sweetest, most endearing way 😝 I know this chapter is on the shorter side, but I hope it still delivers heat, passion, and emotions you’ve been waiting for! ❤️🥰🔥 Happy reading, babes!

She’s got me Lovestoned - the first time I William Nylander

The buildup had been months in the making—months of stolen glances, lingering touches, and moments where professionalism blurred into something far more personal. Tonight, there were no boundaries, no hesitations, no excuses. It was just the two of you, finally giving in to everything you’d both been holding back.

William stood close, the heat of his body brushing against yours as his hands found your waist. His usual confidence was there, but it was softened by something deeper, something reverent. His fingers skimmed over the fabric of your shirt, his thumbs circling gently as his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low, filled with equal parts desire and care.

Your answer was immediate. “I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.

His lips met yours, soft at first, testing, as if he wanted to savour the moment. But restraint didn’t last long. The months of tension boiled over, and the kiss deepened. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch warm and sure as his fingers traced the lines of your body, lifting the fabric higher.

When the shirt slipped over your head and fell to the floor, William pulled back, his eyes dropping to your bare skin. His breath hitched, and he froze, his gaze honing in on the sleek lines of ink decorating your body. A smile tugged at his lips as his eyes widened in admiration.

“You have tattoos?” he asked, his voice huskier now, thick with curiosity and awe. “You never told me about these.”

You couldn’t help but grin, a playful spark in your eyes. “You never asked,” you teased, enjoying the way his expression shifted from surprise to pure hunger.

He chuckled, shaking his head as his hands found the curve of your waist. “God, you’ve been hiding these from me?” His fingers traced the design etched on your ribcage, his touch feather-light but electric. “This one…” he murmured, leaning in, his lips brushing the ink. “It’s beautiful.”

The reverence in his voice made your breath catch, and when his lips pressed against the tattoo, warm and deliberate, a shiver ran through you. “You’re full of surprises,” he said softly, his hands exploring further, tracing the outline of another design just above your hip.

As his kisses followed the path of your tattoos, he seemed completely captivated, his touch both possessive and tender. His hands roamed, exploring every curve, every line, as if committing you to memory. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips grazing your collarbone. “These tattoos… they’re just as stunning as you.”

You tugged at his shirt, your fingers curling into the fabric as you pulled it over his head. The moment it hit the floor, you ran your hands over his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you quipped, your voice breathless, earning a smirk from him.

His mouth was back on yours in an instant, his kiss fiercer now, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you closer. His fingers deftly worked at the button of your jeans, and when he slid them down, his knuckles brushed against your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He took his time, letting his eyes roam over every inch of you, his expression somewhere between awe and desire.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, almost a growl. “You’ve been hiding this body from me? That’s not fair.”

“Making up for it now,” you whispered, your hands moving to the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down until they joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

When you tumbled onto the bed together, the tension between you broke like a dam. His hands were everywhere—tracing the tattoos on your ribs, gripping your thighs, sliding up your spine. His lips followed, leaving a trail of fire down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower still. He paused at the tattoo near your hip, pressing a lingering kiss to the ink. “This one,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, “might be my favourite.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent another shiver coursing through you. “Why’s that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, glancing up at you with a heat in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. “Because it’s right here, and I plan to spend a lot of time getting to know it.”

His lips moved lower, and when his mouth finally met your most sensitive spot, you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. His tongue and fingers worked in perfect tandem, coaxing pleasure from you with a precision that left you breathless. He didn’t stop until you were crying out his name, your body trembling beneath him.

When he moved back up, his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, his hands cupping your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice thick with desire but edged with care.

“More than ready,” you whispered, your legs wrapping around his waist as he positioned himself. The first push was slow, deliberate, giving you time to adjust, but the stretch and fullness made you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing to yours as he buried himself fully. “You feel… perfect.”

He started slow, his movements controlled, but as you found your rhythm together, the pace quickened, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you as he drove deeper, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured your name like a prayer.

When the climax hit, it was like an explosion, leaving you both gasping for air, your bodies trembling from the intensity. He stayed there, his forehead resting against yours, his breaths mingling with yours in the quiet aftermath.

As you lay tangled together, his fingers found the tattoos again, tracing them lazily as a soft smile played on his lips. “So,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, “what other surprises are you hiding?”

You smirked, leaning up to kiss him. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around to find out.”

His arms tightened around you, his gaze filled with adoration. “Oh, trust me,” he murmured, his voice full of promise. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as you lay there, wrapped in his warmth, you knew he meant every word.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

No Distance Left to Run | Part 3 | S.R

Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary - With your secrets coming to light you decide to take some time off to get your life in order. And that includes putting some between you and Spencer.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

Warnings - spoilers for 14.05 Tall Man, break ups, abusive relationship, making out, bruises, scars, readers insecurities, tears, cheating, fingering, handjob, allusions to sex, swearing, brief mention of past drug addiction, brief mention of prison.

WC - 7.7k

Part 3 - Hide and Seek

Present Day 

Spencer caught up with Max in the reception hall, stopping her leaving with a hand around her wrist. 

When she turned to face him he saw the unshed tears behind her eyes. 

“I’m really sorry you had to hear that.” He swallowed. 

“Me too.” She nodded sadly. 

In his peripheral vision he noticed someone pass by, dressed in a caterer's uniform. He waited for them to leave before he spoke again. 

“I’ve been in love with her for so long it’s just become a part of who I am.” He confessed. “I never let myself get close to anyone on the off chance she might have one day decided she felt the same. Just before I met you we…we, uh, slept together and she just up and left while I was asleep and never mentioned it again. It told me everything I needed to know, and so I made the decision to finally move on. I opened myself up to being with someone else and there you were. 

I really like you Max, I think we could have had something really amazing. But I can’t lie to you and tell you that I’m not always going to have feelings for Y/N, because at this point I’m sure they will never go away. And that’s not fair on you.” 

“No, it's not.” She shook her head. 

“I got held hostage yesterday, Y/N and I did.” He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “The unsub liked to play truth or dare. He had a gun pointed at her and made her confess to a secret she would never admit outloud.” 

Max narrowed her eyes on him, despite not being a profiler she could easily read between the lines.

“She told you she has feelings for you?” 

“She did.” Spencer nodded. “I still don’t know if she meant it or not, or if she was just trying to shock the guy.”

“Spencer,” Max sighed deeply. “For a genius you are pretty dumb sometimes.” 

“Uh, I’m sorry?” Spencer’s brows furrowed at her.

“The first time you introduced me to your team, I could tell within five minutes that she had feelings for you. I’m no expert in reading human behaviour but I can read women. She barely said two words to me, she wouldn’t look me in the eyes. And every time I looked at her, she was staring longingly at you.” Max shrugged. 

“I’m not even sure any of that matters.” He shook his head. “She’s married, albeit not happily. She has two wonderful kids. It’s not my place to break up a family.” 

“It sounds like that family broke itself up.” 

“You heard a lot more of that conversation than I realised.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “I’m not gonna be the guy that swoops in when her husband has just been arrested for trying to kill her.” 

“I can’t tell you what to do.” Max shrugged. “But fifteen years is a really long time to carry a torch for someone. I think the two of you at least owe yourselves an honest conversation.” 

After all this time? Always.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, that was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“I’ll bounce back.” Her lip quipped into something close to a smile. “It sucks, but I’ll bounce back.” 

Spencer dared to step closer to her, placing his hand on her lower back and leaning in to gently kiss her cheek. When he stepped back the two of them looked at each other somewhat wistfully for a moment or two, silent goodbyes passing between them. Eventually Max took a few steps backwards, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Take care of yourself, Spencer.”

“You too.” He nodded and watched as she turned on her heels and continued towards the door. 

He fell back against the nearest wall, resting his head on it and looking up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how to begin processing everything. In the space of twenty four hours you’d told him you loved him, he’d broken up with Max and he’d discovered your husband was in prison for almost murdering you. 

How had you managed to keep that from him? He could usually read you so well, how he had not seen it? 

He thought back over the last five days since he’d returned from teaching. The first two you’d been lost in somewhat of a daze, as though you were sleepwalking with your eyes open. 

By the third day something shifted. You seemed happier, lighter even. He’d seen a smile on your face he hadn’t seen in years. 

Now he knew why that was. It was the smile of a woman who had finally gotten out of the clutches of her abuser. 

Another thought hit him then with startling clarity.

Five nights ago he’d had a missed call from you. He’d asked you about it the next day but you’d insisted it must have been a pocket dial. 

You’d called him the night Jared was arrested. Did you try to call him with your husband's hand around your throat? Was it after? Maybe even before? 

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. In all the years he’d known you he didn’t think he’d ever not answered a phone call from you. And the one time you’d needed him most, he’d been…indisposed. 

He kept his eyes screwed tightly shut, half hoping he may disappear into the wall his back was pressed up against. 

You’d needed him and he hadn’t been there. For the first time in fifteen years, Spencer had chosen someone else over you. 

***

Five Days Ago

Max had been insistent that she and Spencer take things slow. She’d been hurt in the past, disappointed when she hurried into something. 

And Spencer was happy to oblige. At least he had been for the most part. 

He was a gentleman, and it wasn’t as though he was used to getting regular sex and therefore it shouldn’t have made a difference whether or not they were sleeping together. 

Before his night spent with you in Varnville, it had been a painfully long time since he’d gotten laid, well before his arrest in Mexico. And even before then it wasn’t as though he’d been sleeping around or anything. 

Truthfully Spencer had only ever slept with a handful of women. Not even a handful really. He could count his sexual encounters on one hand and still have fingers left over. 

It was a combination of things. For one, Spencer didn’t relish the idea of having sex for the sake of it. Sure it would be nice to feel close to someone but if he didn’t have some kind of preexisting feelings for them then he wasn’t interested. Secondly, even if he did like the idea of casual sex, he was far too awkward to initiate such a thing.

And thirdly, Spencer never did like the thought of having sex with anyone who wasn’t you.

So it hadn’t bothered him that Max wanted to take it slow. At first. But after four months of nothing but heavy make out sessions, he was craving more. And thank god that Max seemed to be on the same page.

He’d taken her for dinner and afterwards he’d suggested going back to his place. He knew she saw through the innocent seeming offer for what it really was but he’d been delighted when she’d smiled and agreed. 

He’d been full of nervous anticipation on the cab ride to his apartment, thinking back to the state in which he might have left his home. Were there dishes in the sink? Books scattered around the place? Did he even make his bed?

Do I have any condoms?

They’d barely breached the threshold of his apartment before he was kissing her fiercely, letting her know his true intentions. And thank god she didn’t seem to mind. 

She’d led him to his bedroom by his tie and he followed like some kind of lost puppy. Once inside the room, gratefully he had at least made his bed, they started undressing each other. 

Down to their underwear he guided her back to the bed and laid down on top of her, kissing her while his hand wandered the planes of her body. 

She was moaning into his mouth, arching her back as his hand wandered lowered, wasting no time in dipping beneath the waistband of her panties. 

He was grinding against her thigh to relieve a little friction as his hand moved between her legs. As he did so, his phone rudely started bleating from across the room. 

He chose to ignore it, burying his face into the crook of Max’s neck whilst pressing two fingers against her entrance. 

“Don’t you need to get that?” She panted. 

“Right now? Absolutely not.” He spoke into her skin. 

“What if it’s the BAU?” 

“I’m not due back until tomorrow. If it’s urgent they’ll keep calling. For now, I have more pressing things to take care of.” 

“Spencer I really think you should-” Max’s sentence petered out to a moan when Spencer dove his fingers inside of her. 

Whoever was calling could wait. This was much more urgent. 

***

Present Day

“You know, don’t you?” You asked Penelope as the bubbly blonde hugged her god children. Penelope looked up at you over their heads. “You’re looking at me with that kind of pity we use on victims.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I was worried about you.” She gave Adeline and Finley another squeeze before she let them go. 

“Does anyone else know?” 

“Reid.” She rolled her lip between her teeth somewhat guiltily. 

“Please don’t tell anyone else. Not yet. I will tell them but not today.” You pleaded. 

“Of course.” She nodded. 

“Uncle Spencer!” Adie suddenly chirupped, dashing towards the dejected looking man who was quick to plaster a smile on his face.

“Adie!” He held his arms open for her as your daughter launched herself at him. “Gosh it’s been so long, you've gotten so big.” 

“I’m the third tallest in my class.” She grinned as she wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“No kidding.” He hugged her back. 

Finely sidled up to them, looking a little deflated he wasn’t getting the same treatment from his favourite uncle. 

Spencer patted Adie’s back and she let him go so her brother could say hello. 

“Hey there little man.” Spencer once again held his arms open and Finley responded by jumping up and Spencer just managed to catch the five year old as he wrapped his legs around his waist. 

Spencer made a small grunting sound of surprise, cradling the young boy against him. 

“Missed you uncle Spencer.” Fin buried his head against Spencer's shoulder. 

“I missed you too buddy.” Spencer held him tightly. 

“My daddy’s gone away.” He mumbled against Spencer’s suit jacket. 

Spencer’s eyes found yours and he smiled sadly at you. 

“Yeah, I heard about that. Are you ok?” He spoke softly. 

You both knew he wasn’t talking to Fin, even Garcia knew it. You nodded your head as your arms snaked around your body. 

“I miss him.” Fin sniffled. 

“I don’t.” Adie huffed unceremoniously. “He was mean to mom.” 

Your chest tightened. You hated the way your daughter knew what was going on. You’d only ever wanted to protect your children from the world and it had backfired. 

“Adie,” you whispered her name. “Please stop saying things like that in front of your brother. We talked about this.” 

“Fine.” She huffed again. “Can I go find Henry and Michael?” 

“Please,” you nodded. “Fin, sweetheart?”

He looked up from Spencer’s shoulder as you approached, placing a gentle hand on your son's back. 

“Yes mommy?” 

“You’re too big for uncle Spencer to carry you like that. Can you get down for me, please?” 

“He’s ok.” Spencer tried to insist even though he looked like he was struggling. 

“Yeah, I’m ok.” Fin agreed with him. 

Garcia sensed the looks passing between you and Spencer while she rolled her lip in her teeth. She tottered forward, closer to the three or you. 

“Hey, Fin? How do you want to help me with a top secret wedding day mission?” She tried to make it sound exciting. 

It must have worked as Finley’s eyes widened as they flicked between you and his Aunty Penelope. 

“Can I?’ He asked you tentatively.

“Of course.” You nodded. 

He wriggled in Spencer’s arms and Spencer placed him back on his feet, subtly trying to stretch his back once he was unburdened from your son. 

Fin took hold of Penelope’s hand and she shot you a smile as she headed off with him. 

Caterers still milled about on the patio, but for the most part you and Spencer were alone. For the first time he allowed himself to take you in. 

You wore a figure hugging, strapless purple dress that stopped just below your knees. Your make-up was flawless, your hair styled to perfection. 

You hugged your arms around your body again and that’s when he noticed it. The silver band on your wrist caught the light, the tiny golden snitch sparkling. 

His stomach coiled into knots. You hadn’t worn it in more years than he could count. 

Did it mean something? Did the fact you were wearing it now mean something for the two of you? Were you trying to tell him something? 

His eyes landed back on yours and you could see all the questions running through his mind. 

“I, uh…I really don’t want to talk about it. Not here. Please?” You shook your head. 

“What don’t you want to talk about?” He took a half step closer to you. “The fact that your husband was arrested for almost killing you or that you told me you loved me?” 

“Both. Neither. I know we have to talk but does it have to be now?” You begged him. 

“You almost died.” 

“Which time?” You offered him a meek smile. “We’re FBI Agents. Almost dying is kind of a regular occurance.”

“Not in your own home. Not at the hands of your own husband.” He took another half step forward. “You called me that night. I didn’t answer.”

“Please don’t beat yourself up over that. It was after the fact. The weight of it all hit me and I just needed to talk to someone. But it’s fine, please don’t feel bad.” 

“I was with Max.” He shrugged. “We were…it doesn’t matter what we were doing.” 

“You think I can’t read between those lines?” You chuckled dryly. 

“Right, of course.” He exhaled through his nose. “I should have answered. You are more important to me than anything Max and I were doing.” 

“It’s ok, really. I don’t need you protecting me all the time.”

“Well that’s too bad because I’m gonna do it anyway.” He shrugged lightly with a soft half-smile.

He took another step closer to you and raised his hand to your neck. You’d done a really good job covering the bruises with a combination of foundation and concealer, something you’d had to grow adept at. And maybe it was simply in Spencer’s imagination, but he swore he could see the purple marks peeking through the make-up. 

His fingers brushed lightly against your skin and you sucked in a breath at the sensation. Goosebumps erupted on your flesh at his featherlight touch. 

“I really wish you would have let me help you.” He whispered.

“I know. But if I’d left he would have come after us. It never would have ended. I needed proof, I needed to get him in a compromised position so that when they arrested him, the charges would stick.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and he dropped his hand to his side again. 

“You set him up? You purposefully put yourself in danger?” He looked incredulous.

“It was the only way.” You shrugged. “You put the idea in my head a year ago when you talked about the statistics of domestic abuse. A gun being present increases the chances of homicide by five hundred percent. I had to bide my time, pick the best moment. Before we left for the case in Lewiston, Adie said something interesting. And I decided to be frank with her…”

…“Daddy did that, didn’t he?” 

“Wh-what?” You were quick to pull your sleeve back up. “What makes you think that, sweet pea?” 

“I saw him. I saw him shove you. And it’s not the first time.”

“You’re too smart for your own good.” You smiled sadly at her. 

“I’m right though, aren’t I?” She pouted.

“Yes,” your eyes welled with tears, hating to involve her in this. “Sweetheart, can you do something for me?”

“Anything mommy.” She nodded. 

“If you ever see daddy hurting mommy again, I want you to call 9-1-1. Tell them I’m an FBI agent and they will get here faster. Can you do that for me?” You stroked her hair back off of her face while she nodded frantically…

“...I packed a bag, I knew he’d find it. I knew it would anger him, the thought of me taking his kids away. I deliberately didn’t put my firearm away in the safe that night in case I needed to use it. He wasn’t supposed to get hold of it, that wasn’t part of the plan. But I made sure to anger him enough for him to raise his voice. Adie is a light sleeper. He needed to be caught in the act. I hate that I used my daughter like that but it was never going to end. Not until I was dead or he was arrested.” 

Spencer took in your words, processing them all in his mind. He could tell how hard it must have been for you to put that responsibility on Adie but he’d worked enough cases of domestic violence to know what a vicious cycle it is. 

You were right, if Jared wasn’t arrested it could very well result in your being killed at the hands of your husband. And then it would be too late. 

His hand raised again, this time he cupped the back of your neck and used his grip to pull you closer to him. 

You fell against him, instantly wrapping your arms around his waist while he did the same. 

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo. The last time he’d been this close to you was seven months ago in a hotel room in Varnville. 

He got a little lost at the mere thought. 

***

Seven Months Ago

“I married the wrong man.” You whimpered, glancing at your left hand on Spencer’s shoulder and the silver wedding band on your finger. “I knew it when he proposed to me. I knew it when I was walking down that aisle. And you knew it too, you were just too polite to tell me the truth.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly. “You did marry the wrong man.” 

A silent understanding passed between the two of you, the kind of understanding that existed only between two people who knew each other inside and out. 

And when he leaned in closer and his lips brushed against yours, it felt right. It felt like the most normal thing in the whole world. 

It continued to feel that way when he deepened the kiss, nearly fifteen years worth of feelings coming out in a single kiss. As he held you close he whispered against your lips, “after all this time? Always.” 

And you finally understood what he meant. 

He held your face tenderly as though you might break if he wasn’t careful, crumble to dust in his hands. Perhaps you would. His lips were slightly rough against yours from copious chewing, the frantic nature in which he kissed you caused your teeth to knock together. 

His tongue hungrily explored your mouth with the desperation of a man who had thought of nothing but doing this since the first time he laid eyes on you. He started moving you towards the bed and you complied without a second thought. 

His hands ghosted down your neck and across your shoulders until he reached the top button of your blouse you’d thrown back on before hurriedly leaving your room earlier. He continued to kiss you whilst working on the buttons but he felt you tense up a little.

When he reached the last button, you tore your lips from his, gasping a little for air. When he opened his eyes he saw yours were full of unshed tears.

“Are you ok? Did I cross a line?” His puffy kiss-swollen lips were downturned as he looked at you. 

You swallowed thickly, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“I’m scared of what you’re going to say.” You whispered, your voice cracking as you spoke.

“What I’m going to say about what?” He frowned at you in confusion.

You took a breath, a small tear escaping your eyes as you took a step back and shrugged the open shirt off of your shoulders. 

Spencer’s eyes cast downwards to your torso, momentarily distracted by your bare breasts, which he had imagined so many times but in reality they were so much more incredible. But he didn’t have a chance to give them the attention they deserved.

His stomach lurched wildly as he took in your entire body. You saw the way his jaw clenched and he violently gnawed on his lip. 

He took in each and every scar adorned on your body at the hands of your husband. A splotchy healed burn similar to the one on your forearm only larger spread across the left side of your stomach, an old, healed scar nestled against the swell of your right breast, another slightly smaller one on your rib cage. There was a fresh purple bruise on the other side of your other rib cage.

He rubbed his hand across his stubbly jaw as he looked back to meet your eyes. A few more tears were rolling down your cheeks now. 

“I can go,” you shrugged. “I know they’re hideous. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” Spencer moved closer to you, cupping your face in his hands again. “There is not a single hideous thing about you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, Y/N.” 

“After all this time?” You smiled a shaky smile, partially quoting The Deathly Hallows.

“Always.” He finished, kissing you again with more passion than before. 

You allowed him to help you back to the bed where he didn’t take his lips off of yours for a second. Your hands ran down his sides, finding the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it upward.

He sat back so you could get the garment over his head and threw aside. He looked down on you, taking in your scars again. You tried to shy away, tried to hide them with your arms but he simply pulled them away.

“Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.” He mumbled, shuffling a little down the bed. 

His lips ghosted across your skin until they found the scar on the side of your breast. He gently pressed his lips to the old wound, placing delicate kisses along the length of it. His hand was on your side, fingertips brushing over the bruises lining your rib cage. You moaned a little, closing your eyes and giving over to the sensation. 

He moved his lips lower, towards the scar on your other side and treated that with as much caution as the first. And then they trailed lower and tenderly kiss every inch of the old burn across your stomach. 

He was so compassionate with you it forced a few more tears from your eyes. You weren’t sure anyone had ever treated you with this level of care before and you’d never realised how much you’d needed that. 

When he sat back again on his haunches, his face was a little flushed and it only took one glance downwards to see the tent pitching in his pants to understand why. You reached for him, gripping the waistband of the flannel pyjama pants and pulling him closer. You palmed him through the flimsy fabric and he bucked against your hand, hissing a little. 

He glanced down and you saw him tense a little. When he met your eye again he had an unsure expression on his features. 

“Could you…do you think you could…” He nodded his head towards your hand still palming him and the wedding band adorned on your finger. “Is it too much to ask for you to take it off?” 

You snatched your hand away suddenly, balling it into a fist and looking somewhat forlornly at the ring. 

“I…I’ve never taken it off before. Not once since I got married.” You swallowed. 

“I understand.” Spencer sighed. “But I don’t think I can do this and look at your wedding ring.” 

You looked between him and the ring. The band symbolised your marriage to a man who had caused the scars in which Spencer had so lovingly kissed. You uncurled your fingers, suddenly not caring about that stupid piece of metal. Not while Spencer was here, looking at you the way he was and making you feel safe and loved for the first time in years.

You tugged the ring off in one swift move and leant over to drop it on the nightstand. You drew Spencer back in for a kiss before you could dwell too much on what you were doing. 

You palmed him through his pants again while he kissed you, his own hands wandering to your slacks and popping the button. 

He sat back once more so he could help you out of your pants and then wriggled free of his own, leaving you both in just your underwear. 

He breathed you in again, trying to commit you to memory. He’d spent so many years imagining this moment and he didn’t want to miss a second of it. 

“Y/N I…” he trailed off, not allowing himself to finish that sentence that could destroy this before it had begun. 

He wanted to say it, he’d wanted to say it for nearly fifteen years. But somehow you knew what he wanted to say. 

“I know Spence,” you nodded. “I know.” 

He smiled a little sorrowfully at you before he laid on top of you and kissed you again. His fingers brushed over your scars but continued lower and when they dipped beneath the waistband of your panties you whined against his lips. 

He ran his fingers between your legs, hissing when he realised how wet you were. He gathered your slick on his fingers, feeling his cock throb at the sensation. 

He was careful when he pressed two fingers against your entrance, hesitating as though he thought you may change your mind. 

As encouragement, your hand wandered between your bodies and straight inside his boxers, taking his shaft in your hand. 

He growled against your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip as a way of thanking you. He cautiously pushed his fingers past your entrance until they were buried deep inside of you. 

Your thighs clenched around his hand when his fingertips brushed against your cervix. He moved his lips down to your neck while you started slowly stroking him. 

His hips moved of their own accord, gently thrusting back and forth into your hand. His fingers dove in and out of you, each time pounding slightly harder against your bundle of nerves. 

You were writhing beneath him on the bed, your walls fluttering around his fingers and your moans filling the room like the most beautiful song he’d ever heard. His head was already leaking on your hand, it had been so long since someone had touched him like this. 

You used your free hand to cup his jaw, moving his face so you could meet his gaze. 

“Spence, I need more.” You whimpered, still stroking him leisurely. 

“O-ok.” He nodded, plunging his fingers deep inside of you and scissoring the digits a little.

You mewled, you back arching off the bed and squeezing the base of his shaft tightly in your hand. 

“Do you have…?” You panted. 

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded, his cheeks flushing red. “Luke’s been trying to uh, get me laid for a while now. Insisted I keep some on me.” 

He cautiously withdrew his fingers and you whined a little as he did so. You removed your hand from him and sat up on your elbows.

“Trying?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“And failing. Miserably.” He inhaled deeply, cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “I haven’t had sex since long before I was arrested. And I have absolutely no idea why I’m telling you that.” 

“It’s been a long time since I…since I…” you trailed off, stifling a sob that wanted to wrack your body. “Since I’ve chosen to do this.”

“Oh Jesus,” Spencer frowned at you. “Y/N I-”

“Please don’t. Please don’t feel sorry for me. I want this Spencer, I need this. Please?” You insisted, your eyes frantically begging him. 

He inhaled shakily, nodding his head. He kissed you softly before pushing himself up from the bed and finding his satchel on the chair. He quickly located the stash of condoms Luke had forced upon him, thankful for that fact now. He plucked one out and turned back to you as you were wiggling your panties over your hips. 

He looked at you in awe, laid out naked for him like this. He didn’t feel as though he deserved you, perhaps no one did. You were too good for this world. 

“You’re sure about this?” He asked as he padded back over. “Because I won’t be offended if you want to stop.” 

“Spencer, let me be clear,” you looked him dead in the eyes. “I want this. I want you. I want this like I have never wanted anything else in my life. Please? Please make me feel good?” 

He nodded with a sad smile as he came closer to the bed. He couldn’t deny you that, not when you looked at him that way. 

He removed his underwear before climbing back on the bed, kneeling over you and taking one last opportunity to breathe you in. 

Somehow he already knew that this didn’t have a happy ending. 

***

Present Day

You listened to Emily’s tear jerking speech about twin flames, trying to hide your misty eyes behind the head of your son who was falling asleep on your lap. Adeline sat next to you, her hand in yours offering it a soft squeeze every now and then. 

“Sometimes it takes time, sometimes it takes a parallel universe or something. But the thing about twin flames is that nothing can keep them apart, they are a magic unto themselves. And together they light the way for all of us.” 

You felt Spencer’s eyes on you across the room but refused to meet his gaze. If you did you would surely crumble and now was not the time. There would be plenty of time to ruminate on the last few days later, but for now you had to hold it together a little while longer.

After the speech everyone took to the dancefloor and Finley was completely out by this point, snoring against your shoulder. And honestly you were pleased because it gave you an excuse to leave. 

You carried your sleeping son over towards the happy couple with Adie in tow, gripping your forearm. You said your goodbyes and congratulated them once more before taking your children home.

You tried to make a quick getaway but of course he found you, as you fought with trying to get your jacket on whilst cradling your son at the same time. 

“Let me help you.” Spencer hurried over, seeing you struggle.

“I’m fine, really.” You responded as you proceeded to drop your jacket on the floor. “Goddamn.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes and came closer, prying the young boy from your arms and holding him while you picked up your jacket. Being such a sound sleeper, Fin didn’t even notice the handoff. 

“Thank you.” You slid your jacket on. 

“No worries.” Spencer shrugged. “Need a ride?” 

“I have a car.” You found your hand being grabbed by your daughter and she held you tightly. 

When Adie grabbed your hand his stomach coiled as his attention was directed to your ring again. It wasn’t the first time today he noticed you still wore it. 

He supposed it was still fresh, but he hated to see it there as though nothing had happened. 

“Right, of course.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “Let me help you outside.” 

You wanted to resist but it was easier to just let him help. You and Adie led the way while Spencer carried Fin towards your car. Adie got herself situated in the front seat while Spencer cautiously lowered Fin into the back and got his belt buckled. 

He closed the door and looked back at you, a somewhat melancholy expression on his face. 

“You want any company?” He asked with a slight frown.

“I have two kids, I always have company.” You folded your arms over your chest.

“I meant like, adult company.” He spoke but quickly pulled a face. “Not in the way that sounds. Jeez, I swear that was not meant to sound like a come on.” 

“Spence,” you sighed wistfully. “I think you and I need some time apart right now. Or at the very least I need some time apart from you. I really need to focus myself on my kids right now, try and figure out what happens next. Quite frankly I don’t have the head space to deal with whatever is going on between us right now.” 

You saw the hurt spread to his features, hurt and a small hint of understanding. 

“Y/N?” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Truth or dare?” 

You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes for a fraction of a second before opening them and looking at him again.

“Truth.” You croaked. 

“Did you mean it?” 

Your eyes flit down to your bracelet, eyeing the inscription for a moment or two before you looked back at Spencer. There was a simple answer and a complicated one, neither of which you wanted to get into right now.

“Spencer I-”

“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Adie’s whiny tone pierced the closed windows of the car. 

You looked at her over your shoulder and nodded with a soft smile. 

“I should go.” You told Spencer. 

“Right,” Spencer nodded stiffly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Actually, you won’t.” You cleared your throat. “I told you, I need to focus on my kids right now. Emily’s given me a few weeks off. She doesn’t know why but thankfully she didn’t ask too many questions.”

“Are we going to be ok?” He frowned at you. 

“I…”

“Mom!” Adie whined again. 

“Two seconds, honey!” You called back. “I don’t know, Spencer. My husband of ten years just got arrested for trying to choke me to death, so excuse me if I don’t have an answer for you right now.” 

You turned your back on him and opened the driver’s side door, but before you could slide inside his hand was on your shoulder. Your back went rigid and you were clenching your jaw when you looked back at him. 

“What? What do you want now, Spencer?” Your eyes misted over with tears. 

“At the end of the day, despite everything that has happened, you are my best friend Y/N. You are my best friend above all else. If you need anything, anything at all, please call me. You’re not in this alone.” He reached out and briefly brushed his fingertips against your cheek before stepping back out of reach to stop him doing it again. 

You nodded but he saw in your eyes you had no intention of doing so. 

“I gotta go.” You said instead. You looked down at your bracelet again and with a sigh you fumbled with the clasp and got it undone. “I shouldn’t have…I don’t even know why I did.” 

Spencer dumbly let you place the bracelet in his hand and simply watched as you slid inside the car and closed the door. 

You started the engine and soon your vehicle was pulling away whilst he was left staring down at the gift he’d bestowed upon you on your wedding day. 

A single tear escaped his eyes as he curled his fingers around it. That one gesture told him everything you hadn’t said. 

Whether or not you’d meant what you said whilst being held hostage was irrelevant. The act of giving him back the bracelet meant no matter what you felt for him the two of you would never be together. 

You may as well have handed him back his barely beating, tattered heart. 

***

Six Months Ago 

“I get why JJ’s been on edge but this ain’t your hometown. Why the face?” Luke startled Spencer out of his stare down with the coffee machine. 

The Tall Man case had them in JJ’s hometown of East Allegheny where she’d been dragged down into a torrent of old memories surrounding her sisters suicide. 

Meanwhile, Spencer was stuck in his own tidal wave, he had been for weeks now. He was still reeling from the events in Varnville, the fact that you’d barely spoken to him since. 

“I’m just tired, I guess.” He shrugged it off but Luke wasn’t buying it. 

“You’ve been just tired every time I’ve asked you for the last month. What’s up? You seemed to be getting better after…”

“After I spent three months in prison?” Spencer fielded when Luke trailed off. 

“Yeah,” Luke smiled sadly. “What’s going on with you, man?” 

“It’s complicated.” Spencer let out a sigh. “I did something kinda dumb and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“You don’t know how to fix something?” Luke chuckled. “Impossible.” 

Spencer averted his gaze, rolling his lip between his teeth. Luke scrutinised him, reading his body language before a smile of understanding tugged at his lips. 

“You met someone.” Luke mused. 

Spencer’s eyes shot back up, wide like a guilty child. 

“Kind of?” Spencer huffed. “But I messed it up before it had a chance to begin.” 

“Did you at least get laid?” Luke tilted his head curiously.

“Seriously, Alvez?” Spencer groaned. 

“You so did.” Luke laughed, clapping a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “About time.” 

“Yeah well it’s not likely to ever happen again.” 

“What did you do?” Luke cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Why would you assume I did something?” 

“I don’t know. Did you?” 

“I…I don’t think so?” Spencer’s face scrunched up. 

“Are you bad in bed?” Luke shrugged. 

“How would I know?” Spencer huffed again in exasperation. 

“Trust me, there’s only so much a woman can fake.” 

“Oh jeez, I don’t wanna have this conversation with you.” Spencer shook his head. “But I don’t think I’m bad in bed. I at least thought she was enjoying herself. It wasn’t that. Don’t make me question my…performance.” 

“There’ll be other women, Reid.” Luke patted his shoulder again. 

Spencer sucked in a breath, his bottom lip pouting slightly. 

“I don’t want there to be other women.” He whispered. 

“Oh,” Luke looked a little taken aback. “You like her.” 

“Hmm.” Spencer answered noncommittally. 

“I wanted you to get laid, not fall in love. Jeez, Reid, are your dick and your heart somehow connected?” Luke shook his head. 

“That’s anatomically impossible.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “But thanks for the graphic image.” 

“Only you could sleep with a woman you barely know and fall for her. Your heart's too big, man.” 

“I do know her.” He spoke quietly, his eyes trailing off across the station as you entered with a tray of coffees in hand. 

He watched you move across the room, it was almost impossible to take his eyes off of you. Luke followed his gaze and when he saw you he groaned. 

“No, no you didn’t.” Luke slapped him on the back, forcing Spencer’s eyes back on him.

“Didn’t what?”

“Y/N?” Luke hissed. “She’s married!” 

“Would you keep your voice down!” Spencer scalded him. 

“So it’s true? Fuck, Reid, really?” 

“It was a momentary lapse in judgement, I agree.” Spencer sighed. “But I have been in love with her for well over a decade. An opportunity presented itself and I…I…oh man I fucked up.”

“No kidding.” Luke rubbed his chin. “I thought you were meant to be a genius?” 

“I’m a provable genius. But I’m still entitled to make mistakes every once in a while. Being a genius didn’t stop me from getting addicted to dilaudid, it didn’t stop me from going to Mexico and falling into Cat’s trap. And it didn’t stop me from sleeping with a married woman.” Spencer raked his fingers through his hair. 

“When you put it like that, I’m not sure I see an upside to having a high IQ.” 

“It’s incredibly frustrating, trust me. You still make dumb mistakes, and you have the added bonus of having to analyse them in great detail after.” 

“I’ll stick to living in ignorance.” Luke nodded just as a set of footsteps approached. 

They looked over just as a head of dark hair was heading their way. 

“Are you two ladies gonna stand around all day braiding each other's hair or you gonna help us catch an unsub?” Emily spoke, mildly frustrated, before she was leaving as quickly as she arrived. 

“Ladies?” Luke muttered.

“Hair braiding?” Spencer subconsciously touched his locks. 

“What is it about this town that is putting everyone in a bad mood?” Luke clucked. 

Spencer simply sighed and started following in Emily’s footsteps before his Unit Chief could get any more annoyed. 

***

The jet was eerily silent on its trip back to Quantico the following day. It was late and everyone was asleep, mostly everyone. 

From his position curled up on the couch he could see you down the back of the aircraft, staring out the window as you soared through the clouds.

Realistically, Spencer knew to leave you alone. But just knowing something didn��t mean he agreed with it. 

He couldn’t stay away no matter how he tried and eventually after fighting it for over half the flight, he swung his legs off the couch and stood up. 

He smoothed out his shirt which the top few buttons were now undone on, his tie long ago removed. He quietly padded down the small aisle in his mismatched socks, careful not to wake the rest of his team members although at a glance they mostly all wore headphones or earplugs. 

You didn’t look away from the window but he noticed the slight tensing in your shoulders as he got close. You still didn’t look at him when he sat opposite you, half wondering if you stayed perfectly still if he might leave you alone. 

You had no such luck. 

“Uh, hi.” He whispered quietly. 

You swallowed and tore your eyes off of the window and looked at him. You didn’t speak, simply folded your arms over your chest. 

“Is this just how things are gonna be between us now?” He huffed a little, barely able to contain his frustration. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Your voice was croaky. 

“Yes, you do.” He shook his head. “You’ve hardly spoken to me since…since…”

“Please don’t say it.” You sighed. 

“The thought of what we did is so disgusting to you, you can’t say it out loud?” His eyebrows furrowed heavily at you.

“I’m married, Spencer.” You hissed. “It shouldn’t have happened and that’s all there is to say. I thought you would know better than to…do what we did.” 

“Oh I’m to blame?” He looked incredulous. “You’re the one with the husband, Y/N. I’m very much single. I didn’t cheat on anyone.” 

“Stop it.” You spat. “Just stop it.” 

“I don’t know why you’re pretending it didn’t mean anything.” 

“I’m not pretending.” You scoffed. 

“So it wasn’t about me? You’d have cheated on your husband with anyone, is that what you’re saying?” He glared at you angrily.  

“I’m not talking about this.” You shook your head, turning your attention back out of the window. 

“Well I am. And if you don’t wanna talk you can listen.” He leaned forward on the little table separating you. “I know you and I know you wouldn’t have done that with just anyone. I think maybe you feel something for me and you don’t want to admit it because of Jared and your kids. I get it, I do. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though. And now it looks like I’m going to lose my best friend because you can’t even look me in the eye anymore. 

You know how I feel about you. We’ve never talked about it but you know, you always have. So if it was just about sex you could have chosen anyone. But you didn’t, you came to me. And to be honest I think that’s pretty cruel of you to use me that way when you know exactly how I feel about you.” 

“Are you done?” You looked back at him with a scowl. “Because I am done listening. I’m sorry if it meant more to you than it did to me, ok? I’m sorry if I hurt you or whatever. But I have too much going on in my life as it is. The last thing I need is an invite to the Spencer Reid pity party. Can you go and be all brooding somewhere else?” 

You saw the hurt wash over his face at your vicious words. For a fraction of a second you felt bad but honestly you couldn’t let yourself be swallowed into his sad, doe eyes. Maybe he needed a harsh dose of reality every now and again. 

“Goddamnit,” he hissed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry that you’ve found yourself trapped in a marriage where your husband treats you like a freaking punching bag, but not everyone is like that. There are people out there who might actually love you if you gave them half a chance.” 

After all this time? Always. 

“Leave me alone.” You spat. “Leave me alone, indefinitely.” 

You turned away from him again, signifying the conversation was over. He might have tried to talk some sense into you but a few moments later the pilot was announcing their imminent arrival in Virginia. 

As the rest of the team stirred back into consciousness, Spencer got to his feet and stormed away, not caring if the others sensed his anger. 

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